The fire that razed their village had not yet faded from their nostrils.
For four days, the teens ran through forest, rock, and river. Their feet blistered, their hands raw, their hearts pounding with grief they hadn't yet had time to name. They carried one of their own—not because he was conscious, not because he gave orders, but because he was their chief's only son, and that had to mean something.
They didn't know it was Zion who slept within him now.
Day One: Blood Smoke and Shadows
The sun hadn't risen when the war horns died. Only screams remained. The elders were gone. The warriors—obliterated. What remained were a dozen teens, scattered in the woods.
Kael found him first, buried under ash, blood-streaked, breathing shallow.
"Chief's son," he muttered, pulling Zion's limp body onto his back. "You're not dying here. Not yet."
He didn't ask the others. He just moved. And they followed.
That night, they slept with their backs to the cold stone, and one ear open for the sounds of tracking drums.
Day Two: The River Test
Thalia, the quiet girl with the cruel eyes and sharper knife, killed their first meal—a wild bird—with a stone to the head. She said nothing as she plucked it beside the river. She only glanced once at Zion's motionless body, wrapped in bark cloth.
"He's heavy," muttered Rokar, a big-shouldered boy with more scars than sense.
"Then grow stronger," Kael snapped. "He's not getting left behind."
Behind them, smoke still rose from their homeland.
Day Three: Hunt Becomes Prey
The enemy scouts had found their trail. Footprints in soft soil. Crushed herbs. Kael cursed himself for every broken branch. That night, they split the watch in pairs, huddling around Zion like a stone circle. No one spoke of the dead. They only looked west, toward the ruins their old chief had once mentioned in hushed tones—"High ground, old bones, safer than open plain."
It became their only hope.
Day Four: Whisper in the Dark
That night, Zion stirred. For the first time since they began running.
His lips parted.
"Papa Legba," he murmured, a breathless whisper.
The name meant nothing to them.
Thalia was first to turn toward him, blade halfway out of its sheath. But Zion's face—no longer blank—wore a strange peace. Like he was listening to something no one else could hear.
Kael leaned in.
"Chief's son… can you hear me?"
No answer.
Just the sound of drums far in the distance.