After Lowell was taken to the camp, the old man’s son moves swiftly, his face set in quiet determination. He knows time is running out. Marco’s men will soon trace them if they leave loose ends. He tightens his grip on the knife in his hand, steps into the thick woods, and scans for prey. His mind is sharp. His heart heavy. He understands what is at stake — not just their lives, but the hope resting on Lowell’s survival.
A rustle in the bush draws his attention. Without hesitation, he throws the knife, pinning down a small deer. He moves in, ending its life cleanly. The animal’s warm blood stains his hands, but he does not flinch. He drags the body to a shallow part of the woods, stripping it quickly. He wraps it carefully with Lowell’s torn clothes, brushing Lowell’s hair strands around
