Sasha’s Pov
The storm rolled in like a beast.
No rain. Just lightning that split the sky with bone-white claws. Thunder came in guttural bursts, shaking the ground like something beneath the earth wanted out.
We didn’t build a fire that night. We hadn’t in days. Not since we learned the scent of smoke could draw death faster than blood. One flicker of light... one stray ember... and they’d find us.
Alex crouched on the ridge above our camp, a dark silhouette against the bruised sky. The clouds churned low and thick, too fast, too wrong for any natural weather. He watched the valley like he could smell the shift coming, like he’d already decided it wasn’t the storm we had to fear. I still call him Alex because it felt intimate rather than calling him Alexander which felt intimidating.
