Kevin was already outside, likely checking the perimeter. Thaldor pushed himself upright, wincing as pain shot up his leg. The splint held, but it would be days before he could walk properly without assistance.

“Here,” Maren said, offering him a flask of water.

Thaldor took it without a word and drank. The boy sat across from him, folding his arms over his knees.

“Thanks for not leaving me behind,” Maren said.

Thaldor raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t slowed us down yet. That’s the real reason.”

Maren gave a weak smile. “Still. Most people wouldn’t have given me a chance.”

Before Thaldor could answer, Kevin returned, his expression unreadable.

“We need to move,” he said. “Tracks on the southern edge. Not Hollow. Could be scavengers. Maybe militia.”

“Think they’re hostile?” Thaldor asked.

Kevin gave a slow nod. “They’re watching the road. Armed. We’ll have to go around—or talk.”

Maren straightened. “Maybe I could—”

“No,” Kevin said flatly. “We move together.”

They packed up quickly and headed for the canal system Maren had mentioned—a cracked trench running beneath old service roads. By sundown, they reached a junction where crumbling concrete gave way to rusted fencing and shattered tile. Smoke drifted from a nearby camp.

Kevin crept forward and came back minutes later.

“Three of them,” he said. “Heavily armed. Watching the crossroads.”

Thaldor leaned on his staff. “If they’re enemies, better we find out now.”

Kevin gave a reluctant nod. “Then we talk.”

Together, they climbed from the trench and approached slowly, hands visible, weapons sheathed.

“Stay quiet,” Kevin muttered.

The camp snapped to alert as they approached. A man with a scrap-metal breastplate stood, hand on a long-barreled spear-gun. Two others flanked him—one twitchy, the other calm but sharp-eyed.

“We’re just passing through,” Kevin said.

“Then keep passing,” the leader snapped.

Thaldor stepped forward. “We’re not looking for trouble. Just a warm fire and a place to rest.”

The leader’s eyes flicked between them. “An orc, a cripple, and a kid?”

“We're not helpless,” Kevin said coldly.

The twitchy one laughed. “Looks like food to me.”

Without warning, he lunged—drawing a jagged blade and charging straight for Thaldor.

Maren moved.

Too fast. Too brave.

He stepped between Thaldor and the attacker—and caught the blade in his gut.

Time slowed.

Kevin roared, drawing steel in a flash and slamming into the attacker. Thaldor shouted something arcane, light bursting from his staff as the scavenger leader stumbled back.

But it was too late.

Maren crumpled.

Blood soaked through his tunic as he hit the ground, eyes wide in shock. Kevin dropped to one knee beside him, but it was already over.

The remaining two scavengers fled into the darkness, their leader dragging the wounded attacker behind him.

Silence returned. Thick. Heavy.

Thaldor stood frozen. “He—he tried to save me.”

Kevin stared at the boy’s still form, jaw clenched.

“He was just a kid,” he muttered.

And then he stood. No prayers. No eulogy. Just a moment of stillness before they buried Maren beneath a mound of broken stone.

They didn’t speak as they walked away. There was nothing left to say.

The alliance had never been more fragile.

But it was the only one they had.