Croft's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Croft woke to the sound of movement, not light. The fire had burned low. Across the drum, the girl was already up, rolling her blanket tight and stuffing it into a worn backpack. The sky through the broken wall was still black. But he knew what the black meant now. Dawn was close, and with it came the people she had warned him about. He had no food left to trade for another night. Leaving meant the cold again, and the cold had almost killed him twice. He sat up slow. His hands were stiff. He had no plan. He only knew he could not stay here, and he could not go out empty. He watched her cinch the pack shut and sling it over one shoulder. Her boots were laced tight, ready for miles. She moved like someone who had done this a hundred times. "You're leaving," he said. It wasn't a question. "Before they get here." She glanced at him. "You should be gone already." Croft stood. His legs shook. He had nothing to offer and nowhere to go, and she owed him nothing. He braced for her to send him out the door alone. Instead she crouched, dug in the side of her pack, and pulled out a knife in a leather sheath. She held it out to him, handle first. "Take it," she said. Croft stared at the blade. "Why?" "Because a soft city boy with no knife is a dead city boy." She pushed it closer. "You follow me today. I'll show you the ground. Where water is. Where to hide. You learn fast, or you don't, that's on you." He closed his fingers around the sheath. It was heavier than it looked. Warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the fire. For the first time in The Lost, someone had chosen to help him. "Two rules," she said. She held up one finger. "You don't slow me down." A second finger. "You make yourself useful. You can't do either, I leave you where you stand." "I can do that." His voice came out rough. "I will." "We'll see." She kicked dirt over the last of the fire. The coals hissed and died. "I'm Trin." "Croft." She was already moving toward the gap in the wall. Croft slid the knife into his belt and followed. Behind them, far off, he heard voices carry through the ruins. Men's voices, coming closer. Trin heard them too. She stopped and pressed a hand flat to his chest. "They're early," she whispered. "Move quiet. Stay behind me. If I run, you run." Croft nodded. His heart slammed. He no longer had a wall or a fire. But he had a blade in his belt and someone ahead of him who knew the way. He stepped out into the gray, and this time he was not alone.