Evan - First Person Dawn slipped in cautious - faint, drawn out overhead, barely making up its mind. Light edged between branches while I stood there, seeing darkness slide back, twist itself loose, fade till woods felt less like danger, more like home. Yet knowing someone well didn’t mean you were safe. Lena stayed close by, hugging herself as the chill bit through. Wind tugged at her messy hair - slept-in, stressed-out - as it brushed her face slow. I didn't look away right then - the posture like she’d seen storms before, tension locked but calm underneath, air moving steady in and out without rush. She didn't need to get used to living like this. But she had. Just knowing it made my gut clench a little. “They’re gone,” she said softly, but deep down we knew one thing - it hadn’t ended yet. Just a break. A moment of stillness right before everything crashes back. “Yeah,” I said. “Gone for now. And that’s exactly why we move fast.” She looked my way, giving that qu

The sun just cleared the edge of the world, smearing soft slices of orange and dull gray across the sky, so I figured another loop around the edges wouldn’t hurt. It’d been a restless night, yet critters in those trees tend to stir before dawn even blinks. Lena walked behind me without saying anything, fingers touching my hand now and then, just being there like she was pushing back on how tense everything felt. She stayed quiet - didn’t matter. Her stillness helped me stay sharp, made it clear courage isn’t about ignoring fear. Near the top side of the land, I paused. Tracks there - two lines. Not new, though not old either. Tiny, sharp, made on purpose. "Cole's second shadow," I said quietly to myself. She squatted next to me, checking the tracks. "Quick," she whispered. Yet precise - no second guesses." “That’s the point,” I said. “They’re trained. They don’t stumble. They don’t panic. And they’re watching every step we take.” Lena's hand touched mine once more. "So we

Evan — First Person The sun rose reluctantly, pale and uncertain, casting a fragile light over the town and the edges of the forest. Yesterday’s shadows still lingered in my mind, in my body, as if the night itself had left its weight embedded in my bones. Every muscle, every nerve, every part of me screamed that we had survived, yes — but barely. The taste of adrenaline and fear still lingered on my tongue, a bitter reminder that the line we had drawn yesterday was temporary, fragile. Lena was already awake, as she always was, sitting on the edge of the bed with her knees drawn close to her chest, eyes tracing the morning light as it crept across the floor. She hadn’t slept well. Neither had I. But unlike me, she carried herself with an unnatural calm, almost serene — as if acknowledging the storm and choosing, deliberately, not to let it touch her entirely. I moved to her quietly, careful not to startle her. She didn’t look at me at first. She just exhaled slowly, a long, trembli

The dark started fading, almost like it didn’t want to let go just yet. I woke up earlier than Lena this time. The space felt hazy, filled with pale bluish light from the coming day, darkness gently blurring every outline it covered. She breathed slow, quiet - not rushed or tense - soothing in a way I kept needing to confirm, like peace could vanish unless someone made sure it stayed. I lay there, eyes on how her chest moved up and down, a wisp of hair bent softly by her face. Her sleep held a kind of faith that stirred something quiet in me. Not tense - no walls up or muscles tight - just letting go, just peace. I rolled over slow, trying not to stir her. The ache in my ribs flared up just a bit, that familiar pull from the scar acting like a distant echo, yet somehow it didn't hit as hard - more like static than danger. For a second, I let my mind picture these kinds of mornings sticking around. That idea felt cozy - yet kind of scary too. Routine was about sticking around

The town saw it earlier than me. It felt odd - change showing up on the outside well before you feel it within. Like a glance held just a beat past normal. Or saying hello like you actually meant it, not out of habit. How folks began seeing me, really seeing, after so long. I wasn't meaning to show up. Once things went down with Cole, I figured stuff would blow up - gossip spreading, awkward vibes, maybe even that old feeling of someone keeping an eye on me. But nope - it got real still… which somehow felt worse. Acceptance. Not for everyone. Yet genuine. Not blind faith - just honest truth. The next day, once it seemed over, I headed downtown with Lena. Sky hung light blue - washed clear from last night’s storm. Puddles showed pieces of shop windows, kind of cracked-like. Rain left a hint of damp tar, mixed with pine, floating around. “People are looking,” I murmured. Lena smiled. “They always have.” “No,” I said. “This is different.” She squeezed my hand. “That’s