Lorna was still sitting on top of the cabin when she heard the echoing crack of gunfire in the distance. She paused cutting patterns into the soles of her boots. The tip of her switchblade hovered just above her toes as she listened for more noise.

Her heart sped in her chest. It could have been her uncle—Lorna hoped it was him—but Ean had taught her not to hope but to be cautious. If it was him, she would disappoint him if she let her guard down, and there was no one else in the world that Lorna wanted to impress.

After the echo of gunfire faded, the forest was silent again. Lorna tucked away her switchblade for her safety before she hopped off the roof. Then she ran inside, locking the door shut behind her. She looked through each of the windows, but there was nothing of note near the cabin.

It was rare for people to stumble upon their cabin, but it happened. Ean had taught her to stay quiet and hide if she was alone. Most people walked passed it without coming up to it, but some people would try opening the door. Once they realized it was locked, they would knock and shout for anyone who might be inside, but when no one answered, they would walk away and mutter about the door being jammed.

Hiding from strangers has kept her alive for a decade, and she was not going to question it until someone was brazen enough to bash their way into the cabin. Ean had taught her to shoot first and ask questions later, but Lorna was certain that was the one thing she disagreed with her uncle about.

Lorna shut the blinds, dimming the natural light inside the small space. Then she dashed to her uncle’s bed, and she pulled out a long metal box from beneath it. Inside the box, there was a rifle with a few cartridges of bullets. She pulled out the rifle and a cartridge before she kicked the box back under the bed, and she loaded the rifle.

Then, she ran to a window, and she peeked out of it just long enough to make sure there was no one out there. Once she was satisfied with what she saw, she pressed her back against the wall, and she waited, keeping her ears open for any sounds. With the animals and insects gone or dormant, it made it easier to listen for something out of the ordinary.

Lorna counted the seconds that passed as she waited for someone to come by. After five minutes, her mind flitted to thoughts of her uncle being stranded in the middle of the forest with deep wounds and broken bones. It had yet to happen that Ean would get injured be unable to make it home on his own, but it was a possibility she would never rule out.

Of course, if she left when she thought she might be in danger, Ean would be disappointed in her, but the idea of her uncle never returning home was far more terrifying than her being in danger.

Lorna took a peek out of each of the small windows in the cabin, but there was still nothing to see. She took a few deeps breaths, and then she left the cabin, making sure to grab the key and tuck it into her pocket so she could get back in.

Keeping the butt of her rifle pressed to her shoulder, Lorna ran East, the direction she believed the gunfire might have come from. She counted the seconds she took to run in one direction. Ten minutes had passed when she heard a second set of feet crunching through the snow.

The warmth of hope bloomed in her chest, but she did her best to tamp it down, reminding herself that she had no idea who else was with her in the forest.

Lorna ducked behind a tree, and she waited, listening to footsteps growing closer and closer. The sound was uneven, but considering the lack of a distorted animal sounds, it was clear that it was either a human sound or an un-Merged animal stumbling through the snow.

A human stepped from behind a few trees. The person had a mop of black curly hair, dark clothes, and a large traveling pack on his back—similar to the one Ean always took with him when he left.

Of course, there was no mistaking that it was not her uncle. His hair was different from them, and she had never seen him wear all-dark clothes like that. All she could do was wait and hope that they moved on.

After a minute of stumbling, Lorna was certain that the person was just moving on, but then they promptly fell flat on the ground, disappearing into the snow.

Lorna frowned. She waited, watching for them to get back to their feet, but when there was no movement for a full minute, she felt a weight drop into her stomach.

She could already hear Ean reprimanding her for even considering helping the stranger. He had lectured her so many times that she was always to look after her own life and never anyone else’s because it was so dangerous.

“People are more dangerous than Merged monsters,” Ean had said hundreds of times.

Those words echoed through her head as she walked closer to the stranger, keeping her eyes on her surroundings and ears open for anyone following him. The stranger was laying on their front in the snow, unmoving. A faint breeze tossed their curls around.

Lorna stooped next to the stranger, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. She fought the urge to touch their hair—she had never seen real curls before—and she pressed two fingers to the side of their neck. It took her a moment, but she found a faint and weak pulse from them.

Lorna could take them inside the cabin and out of the cold snow, but that big backpack was going to make it more difficult for her. She pushed the straps of the back off their shoulders—a man’s muscular shoulders, she realized—and she maneuvered his arms out of the straps. Once the stranger’s arms were free of the backpack, Lorna pushed it off him and into the snow, and then she shoved her arms under him and flopped him onto his back.

Blood stained the snow where he had been laying, and his sweater—a rather thin one for the winter—was darkened from the blood on his chest and his arm. His skin was ashen, and his lips were pale. She looked at her hands to find that they were stained red as well.

Lorna understood this man was bleeding out. It would be a miracle if she managed to get the man to the cabin in time to save him, and she knew that miracles only happened in comics that she read.

Ean had never said it aloud, but she knew he believed her a fool for wanting to believe in the miracles performed in those comics.

Lorna shoved her hands into the man’s armpits. He was heavy, but she could still pull him over the snow. She began the ten-minute journey back to her cabin.