The group followed the river north, the water’s steady flow their only guide. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and decay. They moved slowly, burdened by exhaustion and a growing sense of unease.
By midday, they stopped momto rest in a narrow glade, the sun filtering weakly through the canopy above. Maria and David sat apart, whispering urgently to each other. Jas and Sam played by the water’s edge, their laughter a rare and fragile sound.
“What’s going on with them?” Ivy Mae asked Roman, nodding toward Maria and David.
“Probably deciding whether to tell us the bad news,” Roman replied grimly.
Sure enough, as the afternoon wore on, Maria and David approached the group, their faces set with quiet determination.
“We need to talk,” Maria began. “The pace we’re keeping… it’s too much for the kids. They need more rest, more time to recover. We can’t keep going like this.”
Ivy Mae frowned. “What are you saying?”
David stepped in. “We’re saying we need to part ways. You, Roman, and Jas can move faster. You have a better chance of reaching Haven. We’ll follow at our own pace, but we can’t slow you down anymore.”
“No,” Ivy Mae said firmly. “We stick together. That’s how we survive.”
Maria shook her head. “Surviving isn’t the same as living, Ivy. The kids need to live. They need to laugh, to rest, to feel safe—even for a little while. You’re chasing Haven, and I get that. But we can’t do it like this.”
The group argued long into the night, their voices low but tense. By the time the fire had burned to embers, the decision was made. They would part ways in the morning