Victoria's Journal

June 28th, 2020

I tested my ankle again this morning, walking slowly down the street.

Maddie stayed close this time. Not hovering, not crowding, but near enough that I could feel it. Eyes sharp. Bow slung across her back, one hand never too far from it. Watching the street. Watching me.

We hadn’t said much before stepping outside.

Didn’t need to.

The neighborhood was quiet. Too quiet. Broken cars, shattered windows, houses leaning into each other like tired old men. Nothing moved. Nothing alive.

Every step I took, I felt her attention shift with it. Not babysitting. Not quite. Just… making sure I didn’t fall somewhere I couldn’t get back up from.

Then I heard it.

A faint mew. High-pitched. Weak.

I froze.

Maddie did too.

The sound came again, thin and desperate, from a house a few doors down. Half-collapsed. Roof caved in. Porch leaning like it had given up holding itself together.

I moved toward it carefully, each step measured. My hand brushed the knife at my hip out of habit, more reassurance than readiness.

Maddie didn’t stop me.

She shifted with me instead, angling slightly to the side, giving herself a line of sight past the house, covering what I couldn’t see.

That was new.

I saw it then.

A tiny kitten. Fur matted. Eyes too big for its face. Alone.

It froze when I got close. Claws dug into splintered wood, body trembling like it might shake apart.

I crouched slowly, keeping my weight balanced. Careful not to push the ankle too far.

“Hey…” I said, quiet. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

My voice sounded wrong in the silence. Like it didn’t belong out here anymore.

The kitten hesitated.

Then took a step.

I stayed still, letting it come to me. Letting it decide.

Another step.

Then it pressed against my fingers, uncertain, searching.

Alive.

Fragile.

Fighting.

Maddie stepped up behind me, close enough now that I could hear her breathing, controlled and even.

“Do you think it’s safe?” she asked.

Still cautious.

Still thinking ahead.

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s alive. That’s enough for now.”

I slid one hand under it and lifted it gently, pulling it in close to my chest. I could feel its heartbeat—fast, frantic, real.

For a second, the world narrowed to that.

Maddie studied it. Not backing away. Not retreating.

Just watching.

“You sure we should—?” she started.

I shrugged slightly. “It’s a life. We can keep it alive. That’s what matters.”

She didn’t argue.

Didn’t agree either.

But she didn’t step away this time.

She just nodded once, small, like she’d made a decision she wasn’t going to say out loud.

“Then we don’t stay out long,” she said. “Noise carries.”

Practical.

Grounded.

I nodded.

We turned back toward the house together.

Back inside, I settled onto the couch, easing the weight off my ankle. It throbbed, but it held. That was enough.

The kitten curled into my lap like it had always belonged there. Small. Warm. Alive.

I ran a hand along its back, feeling the slight tremor under its skin.

Maddie lingered nearby.

Not across the room.

Not watching from a distance.

Closer.

She leaned against the wall for a second, eyes on the kitten, something unreadable flickering across her face.

She didn’t reach for it.

Didn’t name it.

But she didn’t look away either.

For now, it didn’t have a name.

Maddie didn’t claim it.

It was mine.

And for the first time in days, maybe longer—

I felt something shift.

Not safety.

Not peace.

But something close enough to pretend, if only for a minute.

Hope.