Rissa’s POV

I woke to the sound of birds. Real birds, soft, uncertain calls threading through the early light. For a second, I thought I was dreaming. It had been so long since anything sounded that alive.

The fire had burned down to ash, faint smoke curling into the pale dawn. The air was cold but gentle, carrying the smell of wet leaves and distant rain. For the first time in days, the world did not feel like it was trying to kill us.

Mark was still awake, sitting on the same log from ...