The sound came again. A soft, deliberate crunch of wet earth beneath weight.
Zola's breath stilled. Rami did not move,but something in him sharpened. The weakness in his body remained, but his mind… was suddenly alert, dangerous, alive.
"Someone's there," Zola whispered.
"I know."
The rain thickened, drumming against the roof, masking and revealing the sound in uneven rhythm. Whoever approached was not rushing. Not stumbling, walking, carefully.
Zola's eyes darted to the door, then to the small window, then back to Rami.
"What do we do?"
Rami's voice dropped, low and steady. "Is this place known?"
"No. I mean, no one comes here. Ever."
"Then whoever that is…" His gaze shifted toward the door. "…didn't come by accident."
A cold ripple passed through her.
Zola swallowed. "Bandits?"
"Maybe."
"Hunters?"
"Maybe."
She hesitated. "From… your war?"
That question lingered. Rami didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tried to push himself up. Pain hit him instantly. His breath tightened, but he forced himself higher, one arm braced against the bed.
Zola rushed to him. "No, don't move, you'll..."
"I won't lie here if someone walks through that door."
"You can barely stand!"
"I don't need to stand."
There was something in the way he said it that made her stop. He didn't sound reckless. He sounded certain.
The footsteps stopped. Right outside. Zola's heart pounded so loudly she was certain it could be heard through the walls. A shadow moved past the window. Then paused. A knock followed. Zola flinched. Rami's eyes never left the door.
"Don't open it," he said quietly.
Another knock. This time slower. More patient. Then, a voice.
"Is anyone inside?"
Zola froze. It was a man's voice. Calm. Almost polite. But something about it felt… wrong. Too controlled. Too measured. Rami's jaw tightened slightly.
"Say nothing," he murmured.
Zola nodded. The silence stretched. Rain filled the space between heartbeats. Then the voice again:
"I saw the horse."
Zola's eyes widened. Rami's expression darkened.
"He's watching," Rami said under his breath.
Outside, the man shifted. Zola could hear it now, the faint scrape of boots, the soft movement of fabric. Not one person. More than one. Her stomach tightened.
"They're not alone," she whispered.
Rami didn't look surprised.
"Of course they're not."
A hand brushed lightly against the door. Not pushing. Not forcing, but testing.
"I mean no harm," the voice called again. "But travelers in these woods are rare. Especially wounded ones."
Zola's blood ran cold. They knew. Rami leaned forward slightly, his voice barely audible. "How many entrances?"
"Just this door… and the back window."
"Too small for a man?"
"Yes."
"Good."
He exhaled slowly, thinking. Zola watched him. This was not the broken man she had dragged inside. This was something else. Something dangerous. Something that had survived. Another voice outside now, lower, rougher.
"We shouldn't waste time. Just break it."
"Wait," the first voice said calmly.
Footsteps again, circling. measuring.
"They're deciding," Zola whispered.
"No," Rami said. "They've already decided. They're just choosing how."
Zola stepped back instinctively.
"What do we do?"
Rami's eyes flicked toward the corner of the room.
"Is there a weapon?"
She hesitated. Then nodded.
"A small blade. For cutting herbs."
"Get it."
She rushed to the shelf, grabbed the knife, and returned. It looked… insignificant. Rami took it anyway. Turned it in his hand. Measured its weight.
"It'll do."
Zola stared at him. "You can't fight them."
"I don't need to fight them."
"Then what...?"
"Listen to me," he said, suddenly firm.
She stopped.
"Whatever happens, you stay behind me."
"You can't even..."
"Zola." Her name. Sharp. Grounding. She fell silent.
"Trust me."
Outside, the calm voice returned.
"This is your last chance," he said. "Open the door. No one gets hurt."
Rami almost smiled. But there was no warmth in it.
"They always say that."
Zola's fingers tightened around her dress.
"What if we just...talk to them?"
Rami looked at her. Really looked.
"You still believe in that?"
She hesitated.
"I… don't know."
His gaze softened, just slightly.
"That's not a bad thing."
Then,
CRACK.
The door shook violently under a heavy blow. Zola gasped. Another hit. Wood splintered.
"They're coming in!" she whispered.
Rami shifted off the bed. This time, he did not stop. Pain twisted through him, she could see it, but he forced himself upright, one hand gripping the edge of the table. Standing, barely, but standing.
Zola rushed to his side. "You're going to fall..."
"Then I fall after they do."
The third strike came. The door split. A jagged crack ran down its center. Rain burst through in thin streams. And then, ith one final blow, the door broke open.
Three men stood in the doorway. Shadows against the storm. Weapons in hand. Their cloaks dark with rain, their faces half-hidden beneath hoods. The one in front stepped forward slowly. The calm voice. Now closer, colder.
"Well," he said, eyes scanning the room. "That was disappointing. I had hoped for a more… welcoming reception."
His gaze landed on Rami. And stopped. Something changed. Recognition?
No. Something sharper. Interest.
"Well, well…" the man murmured. "What do we have here?"
Rami stood straight despite the blood, despite the weakness. Despite everything.
"Leave," he said. Simple, quiet, deadly.
The men laughed. Not loudly,but enough.
"You're in no position to give orders," one of them said.
The leader raised a hand slightly, silencing him. His eyes never left Rami.
"You're not just a traveler," he said.
Rami didn't respond. The man tilted his head, studying him.
"You carry yourself like someone who used to be obeyed."
A moment of silence. Then,
"A soldier?" the man guessed.
Another pause. Then softer,
"A commander?"
Zola felt the air tighten. Rami said nothing. That silence spoke louder than any answer. The man smiled faintly.
"Ah," he said. "So I was right."
His gaze flicked to Zola.
"And you…"
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
"…you found quite the guest."
Zola stepped back slightly. Rami shifted—subtly—but enough to place himself between her and them. The movement did not go unnoticed.
"Protective," the man observed.
Then, almost casually,
"Kill him."
Everything happened at once. One of the men lunged forward. Zola's breath caught, Rami moved. Faster than she thought possible. The small blade flashed. A sharp, brutal motion. The attacker staggered back with a cry, clutching his arm.
Blood.
The room exploded into chaos.
"Careful!" the leader snapped. "He's trained!"
The second man rushed in. Rami didn't meet him head-on. He stepped aside, just enough to let the man's momentum carry him forward,then struck. Precise. Efficient. Not wasted movement.
Zola stared. This was not desperation. This was skill. But Rami staggered. Just slightly. Just enough. The leader saw it.
"Now," he said.
And drew his weapon. Zola's heart stopped. Rami turned— Too slow— The blade came toward him— And then, Zola moved. She didn't think. Didn't hesitate. She grabbed the nearest thing she could find— A wooden pole— And swung it with everything she had. It struck. Not perfectly, but enough.
The leader stumbled. Just for a second. Just enough. Rami didn't waste it. He moved, closed the distance and everything went still.
The sound of rain returned. Heavy and endless. The leader froze. Rami stood inches from him. The blade at his throat. Silence. The man smiled, slowly and carefully. As if even now… He was not afraid.
"You're full of surprises," he said.
Rami's voice was low.
"Leave."
In silence, The man studied him. Then nodded slightly.
"Not tonight," he said.
He stepped back. Raised a hand. The others followed. Dragging the wounded with them.
At the doorway, the man paused. Turned slightly. And said:
"We'll meet again."
Then disappeared into the rain. The silence that followed was heavier than the fight. Zola's hands trembled. The pole slipped from her grip. Rami stood still for a moment longer. Then, he collapsed.
"Rami!" Zola rushed to him.
He hit the ground hard. Breathing, but barely. The strength that had carried him… was gone. Zola dropped beside him, panic rising.
"No...no, stay with me!"
His eyes flickered open. Just slightly.
"You shouldn't have…" he murmured.
"You would've died!"
A faint, tired breath escaped him.
"Still might."
"Not if I can help it."
Outside, the storm raged. Inside, the night had changed. They were no longer alone. And whatever had followed Rami… had found him.