The mist rolled across the road like a living thing, curling over guardrails and dipping into ditches. The world was quiet, too quiet, but Travis didn't seem fazed. He hummed a tune I didn't recognize, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the fading drizzle.
"Not exactly a normal Tuesday," I muttered, pressing my hands against the car window. My reflection was pale, damp, and sharp-eyed, and I didn't like it. Hunters were close. I could feel it in the air, like electricity before a storm.
He glanced at me, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Normal is overrated anyway. Besides, you're traveling with me. How boring could it possibly be?"
I rolled my eyes. "You call almost getting run off a cliff boring?"
"Ah, minor potholes, really. Just keeps life interesting."
The car slid slightly on wet leaves as we approached a narrow curve. I tensed. Hunters. There. Always lurking in the periphery. I could almost taste the danger.
"They're smart," I said. "They'll predict patterns eventually. We can't keep slipping away like this."
Travis grinned, adjusting the rearview mirror. "Then we change patterns. Make it unpredictable. Keep them guessing. Keeps me amused."
"Amused?" I asked sharply. "You're amused while people are trying to kill us?"
"Exactly." He gave me a sideways glance. "Humor is survival. Haven't you noticed?"
I shook my head, muttering something about him being insane. But the truth was, he was right. Humor kept the edge from becoming unbearable, and with him around, I hadn't quite reached that edge yet.
We passed an abandoned truck stop, windows dark, neon flickering like it was too tired to fight the night. Travis parked behind a rusted dumpster. "We check inside, grab supplies. Quick and quiet."
I nodded, knife hidden beneath my jacket. The mist seemed to swallow our footsteps, masking our approach. Inside, dust coated counters, and a broken vending machine rattled with a dull hum. I scanned the aisles while Travis rifled through shelves, humming that same tune.
"You realize if hunters knew where we were, they'd just wait for us to leave?" I whispered.
"Then we leave later," he replied, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Or never. Just camp here like two shadow ghosts. Sound cozy?"
I bit back a laugh. "We're not camping, you moron."
But then his elbow brushed mine, accidental or not, and I felt the familiar warmth. My pulse skipped. "Don't—" I trailed off, caught in the tiny intimacy of shared space.
Travis noticed the silence and leaned slightly closer. "Don't what? Trip over your own heart again?"
I scowled, though I couldn't stop the small smile. "Shut up."
Outside, the mist shifted. A shadow moved near the edge of the lot, deliberate, slow. Hunters.
"Time to go," I whispered, knife ready.
He nodded, eyes darkening with focus. "After you, dramatic princess."
We slipped into the car, doors clicking shut behind us. The engine roared to life, tires skidding slightly on wet asphalt. Hunters were close, but for now, we were one step ahead.
The drive was tense. We didn't speak much, just shared glances, brief touches when the other reached for the map, or adjusted a strap, or brushed rain from a cheek. Each tiny movement built trust. Each shared breath became a tether in the storm of danger.
Hours later, we found temporary shelter in a tiny, rundown motel at the edge of a fog-drenched town. We collapsed into the beds, soaked and exhausted, but alive.
Travis stretched lazily, guitar case at his feet. "You know," he said, voice low, "if surviving with me is this thrilling, I wonder how exciting other activities would be."
I glared, but heat crept into my cheeks. "Focus. We survived today. That's all that matters."
He grinned, eyes softening. "For now. Tomorrow, maybe more adventures. Or just more of me annoying you."
I sighed, letting the warmth of his proximity calm the storm inside me. Hunters were still out there. Danger hadn't left. But for a few stolen moments, we were alive. Together.