"You'll live," Kevin grunted, rising to his feet.

"Your bedside manner is atrocious," Thaldor muttered, adjusting the splint.

The boy—Maren, he had finally given his name—watched from a few feet away, still skittish. Kevin couldn’t blame him. Finding an orc and a human mage working together wasn’t something anyone sane would expect in this broken world.

Kevin turned his attention to the horizon. Smoke still drifted from the ruins of the last settlement they had passed through, a grim reminder that the Hollow’s forces were never far behind. They needed to move—and soon.

"We head east," Kevin said, his voice low. "Follow the river until we find another village. Maybe pick up supplies."

"And if the Hollow finds us first?" Thaldor asked, arching an eyebrow.

Kevin flexed his fingers. "Then we fight."

Maren shifted uneasily. "You two... you're really going to fight them?"

Thaldor gave a weary laugh. "We don’t have much of a choice."

The boy hesitated, then squared his shoulders. "I want to help."

Kevin studied him. Maren was skinny, underfed, and barely armed. But there was a stubborn light in his eyes.

"You’ll slow us down," Kevin said bluntly.

"I can scout ahead. I’m quick," Maren insisted. "And I know some of the old service roads. Places the Hollow doesn't watch."

Thaldor glanced at Kevin, an unspoken question passing between them.

Kevin exhaled slowly. "Fine. You can tag along. But the first time you make noise, or run, or lead trouble back to us... you're on your own."

Maren nodded eagerly, relief flashing across his face.

Thaldor pushed himself to his feet, leaning heavily on a scavenged staff. "A fragile alliance indeed."

Kevin smirked. "Welcome to the new world."

They moved cautiously at first, sticking to the tree lines and broken roads where possible. Kevin kept his senses sharp, always scanning the horizon for movement. Maren proved useful—quick-footed, quiet, and surprisingly good at spotting abandoned caches along the way.

By nightfall, they had salvaged enough dried food and battered gear to keep moving for another few days. They made camp in the shell of an old commuter station, the walls half-collapsed and moss creeping over the cracked tile floors.

Kevin sat with his back to the wall, sharpening his blade, while Thaldor adjusted his bandages by the dim firelight. Maren perched nearby, fiddling with a small map stitched from scraps of old leather.

"You trust him?" Thaldor asked quietly, nodding toward the boy.

Kevin didn’t look up. "No. Not yet."

"But you let him come anyway."

Kevin shrugged. "Sometimes you don't get the allies you want. Just the ones that survive."

Thaldor chuckled dryly. "A philosophy fit for this world."

Kevin finished with the blade, setting it aside. He stared into the weak fire for a long moment. "The Hollow’s not going to stop. Not until there’s nothing left."

Maren glanced up from the map. "Then we stop them."

His voice didn’t waver. Kevin turned his gaze toward the boy, studying him carefully. Thin. Nervous. But not broken.

Maybe not yet, anyway.

"Sleep while you can," Kevin said, pulling his cloak tighter. "We move at first light."

Maren nodded, curling up against the far wall. Thaldor leaned back, closing his eyes but keeping his staff within arm’s reach.

Kevin stayed awake a little longer, listening to the night settle in.

A fragile alliance, Thaldor had called it.

Maybe.

But in a world like this, sometimes fragile was all you had.