Darkness didn't fall.
It closed in.
The canopy swallowed the remaining light until the forest became layers of shadow and dull glow. The moss along the ground gave off just enough illumination to make movement visible—and just enough to make distance hard to judge.
Damien counted again.
Seven people.
They were crouched on a stone outcrop rising from the forest floor. It wasn't a cliff—more like a broken tooth of rock, steep on one side, cracked and uneven on the other. It stopped a charge, but it didn't seal them in safety.
Below them, something breathed.
The boar hadn't left.
Its weight shifted occasionally. Hooves scraped dirt. It was waiting.
Chris leaned closer. "It's still there."
"I know," Damien said.
"Why isn't it attacking?"
Damien watched the treeline. "Because it doesn't have to."
The forest wasn't quiet. It just wasn't loud. Small sounds layered over each other—branches flexing, insects chirring, something knocking against wood far away. None of it felt random.
Damien forced his breathing steady.
Every inhale pulled warmth into his chest. Not pain. Heat. Like standing too close to a fire that hadn't fully caught yet.
A whimper broke the tension.
Damien turned.
The injured man was pressed against the rock, sweat soaking his shirt. His leg was twisted at a wrong angle, swelling already visible.
"When did that happen?" Damien asked.
"During the run," the man said through clenched teeth. "I didn't want to slow anyone down."
Damien glanced at the rock again.
The man had been dragged up near a wide ledge—too low, too exposed. Cracks in the stone formed natural handholds. Something smaller could climb it.
That was a problem.
"We need to move him higher," Damien said.
Before anyone could respond, the forest shifted.
Light footsteps. Multiple. Fast.
Damien's jaw tightened. "There's more."
Shapes slipped between the trees. Lean. Low to the ground. Not wolves—but close enough to trigger the same instincts. They circled wide, staying out of reach.
They weren't focused on the group.
They were watching the boar.
The hierarchy clicked into place.
Predators didn't fight stronger predators.
They waited for scraps.
The injured man gasped as pain spiked. Blood soaked into the stone beneath him.
That was all it took.
One of the smaller creatures darted forward, scrambling up the cracked side of the rock with terrifying speed.
"LEFT!" Damien shouted.
Too late.
Teeth sank into the man's calf.
The scream tore through the clearing.
Chris moved without hesitation. He grabbed a stone and brought it down hard. The creature yelped and fell back, disappearing into the trees and leaving blood behind.
The boar surged forward.
Damien stepped to the edge of the outcrop.
The heat in his chest flared instantly—sharp, demanding. It rushed down his arms, his breath coming out hot and fast.
He exhaled.
The air in front of him warped violently.
Heat exploded outward—not flame, not light. Pressure.
Superheated air expanded all at once.
The boar hit it head-on.
It staggered back with a furious roar, tusks scraping stone as the smell of scorched hide cut through the clearing. It hadn't been burned badly—but it had been checked.
Damien stumbled, lungs burning. Sweat broke across his skin like he'd stood too close to an open furnace.
That cost him.
"GET HIM UP!" he barked.
Chris and another man dragged the injured survivor higher, hauling him past the ledge into a narrow notch in the rock where the smaller creatures couldn't reach.
The boar advanced again.
Damien didn't retreat.
He jumped down.
The impact jarred his legs. Pain flared up his spine, but he stayed upright and planted himself between the boar and the rock.
Heat coiled in his chest again—slower this time. Controlled.
The boar stopped.
It stared at him.
Not confused.
Not enraged.
Calculating.
The smaller predators kept their distance now, uneasy.
After a long moment, the boar snorted and stepped back. Once. Then again.
Finally, it turned and disappeared into the trees.
The forest slowly relaxed.
Damien dropped to one knee.
His hands shook. His arms felt heavy. The heat in his chest dimmed, settling into a low, steady burn instead of vanishing.
Chris crouched beside him. "You okay?"
"I will be," Damien said.
The injured man was alive. Barely. The bite was deep. The broken leg was worse.
Night pressed in around them.
They had survived the first night.
But not because the world was kind.
Because they had learned something important.
This place didn't reward strength alone.
It rewarded awareness.
And whatever Genesis had created…
…it was already adapting.