Hope
The outer ridge was colder than the rest of the territory.
Hope felt it the moment she crossed the tree line — not just in her skin, but in the way the land itself seemed to hold its breath. Snow lingered in the shadows. Smoke rose thinly from chimneys that struggled to stay lit.
She shouldn’t have been here.
Rowan had said it quietly, carefully:
Go at dawn. Take the service path. Don’t be seen.
He had pressed the bundle of blankets into her arms himself.
“This stays between us,” he’d said. “You know Janice has said you are not allowed in the outer ridge. If she finds out…”
Hope met his eyes. He looked tired. Older than his years.
“I’ll be careful,” she’d promised.
Now she moved from house to house, keeping her head low, delivering food, listening to stories she couldn’t fix
