Requiem of the Dead

The late afternoon sky wore a dull, steely gray when the patrol set out. With the constant threat of frostbiters and potential raiders, Darren had volunteered to lead a small group along the orchard's perimeter and into the fringe of the forest. The snowdrifts crunched beneath their boots, the cold air seeming to hush every other sound. Leila stood at the gate, watching them depart, an uneasy knot in her gut that had only tightened in recent days.

"What's the plan?" Kai asked quietly, stepping up to her side. She hesitated, feeling that familiar swirl of conflicting warmth at his nearness, but forced her posture to remain rigid.

"Darren's going to sweep the treeline," Leila said, voice steady. "We've had footprints before, rumored sightings… if there's a band out there hunting those newcomers, I won't let them blindside us."

Kai nodded, a faint crease in his brow. "I'll join the watchers along the east fence—keep an eye out." He paused, noticing the tension in her face. You all right? lingered in his gaze, but she looked away, dismissing the question that never fully formed.

Two hours later, the wind had picked up, blowing loose snow into swirling flurries. Leila had taken over the watch duty near the orchard fence, scanning the white expanse for any sign of movement. Her mind buzzed with rumors about a "ruthless band" possibly led by Jace or Ellie—old nightmares crowding her thoughts. She exhaled a frosty breath and forced herself to stay vigilant.

At first, the orchard seemed empty, just rows of skeletal trees half-buried in drifts. Then, at the far edge where the forest began, movement caught her eye. A flicker of dark shapes gliding between pines. She tensed, lifting binoculars. Are those animals? Undead? She saw at least three silhouettes, hunched and deliberate in their steps. They paused, as if sensing they were observed, and then vanished behind a grove of snow-laden firs before she could confirm details.

Her pulse hammered. Leila signaled to Mark, who was posted a few yards away. He hurried over, scanning the orchard. "See something?" he whispered.

She swallowed. "Yes. Three, maybe more, near the tree line. Didn't look like walkers—their movements were too coordinated. But they disappeared."

Mark frowned. "Could be a scouting party. Maybe the rumored band the newcomers fled. I'll tell Darren." Quickly, he signaled to a watcher who dashed off to inform Darren's patrol deeper in the woods.

While the watchers fanned out to lock down the perimeter, Darren returned from his patrol, breath fogging in the cold. He had found faint footprints in the forest's outskirts, spaced in a pattern suggesting stealthy human movement rather than shambling undead. He reported back to Leila in a low voice.

"Definitely not random wanderers," he said, flicking snow off his coat. "They're either skilled survivors or a small scouting party. The footprints lead away, so they must've vanished once they realized we were near."

Leila exhaled sharply. "Then the newcomers' story about being pursued by a vicious group might be real. We can't ignore this."

Darren nodded gravely. "We'll double watchers again tonight. If they come closer, we'll be ready." He paused, scanning her tense features. "You okay? This is—"

"I'm fine," she cut in, biting the words. She hated how raw her nerves felt whenever the conversation hinted at a band that might be Jace's. "Just keep everyone on alert. We can't have them slip in unawares."

Later, in the main hall, watchers recounted the orchard sightings to a cluster of survivors. Tamsin's faction clamored for stronger fences, Fiona worried about the new refugees becoming a target. The phrase "they're out for revenge" circulated among hushed voices, echoing the newcomers' warnings. Each time Leila overheard it, her stomach knotted. Revenge—the same vow Jace once hurled at her before they parted ways in the old timeline. Could it truly be him?

Kai, noticing her pale complexion, approached softly. "You look tense," he murmured. "Want to talk?"

She stiffened, remembering how she almost confessed her fears about Jace last time they were alone. Instead, she forced an even tone. "I'm fine. Just a headache. I'll help coordinate the watchers."

He gazed at her with quiet concern. "You sure it's not something else?" His voice was gentle, offering a chance to unburden herself.

Her heart wavered, but images of Jace's betrayal—**their college romance turned lethal—**blocked her from opening up. She forced a dismissive shrug. "Really, I'm fine. We have work to do." She stepped away, leaving him standing there, worry etched in his features. I can't let him see me unravel, she told herself.

Spurred by the orchard sightings, the entire shelter mobilized to reinforce weak points. Tamsin and Mark led efforts to lay extra boards against the fence corners. Fiona checked gear for watchers in case of injuries or sudden fights in the frigid darkness. Another supply run was considered, but the snow-laden roads made them think twice—not until we know more about the band.

Leila found relief in the hustle, burying her anxiety beneath tasks. She hammered nails into rotting planks, directed watchers on vantage rotations, and listened to the orchard sentinels' reports. Whenever mention of "ruthless leaders" or "revenge" surfaced, she swallowed her pounding heart, feigning calm. Her nightmares the previous nights had returned in full force, but she refused to look shaken in front of the community.

Kai hovered at times, offering assistance or quietly asking if she needed help with anything. She nodded curtly but maintained distance, not wanting to appear reliant. A war raged in her chest: wanting the solace of his unwavering loyalty but clinging to fear that letting him in could lead to heartbreak like Jace's betrayal. So she deflected, focusing on hammering boards or checking watchers' rosters.

By dusk, the orchard watchers reported no further sightings of silhouettes. Snow continued falling in gentle drifts, painting the compound in a lonely white hush. People retreated indoors, warming themselves at makeshift fires or bunking down early for the next day's chores. Tamsin's faction resumed ration discussions, Mark tallied guard schedules, and Fiona finished her medical checks on the refugees. The tension lingered, though, an undercurrent thrumming beneath daily life.

Leila stepped onto a small porch area just off the main hall, scanning the orchard one final time as a faint glow of lanterns dotted the fence line. Her breath plumed in the frosty air. She recalled Darren's suspicion that the rumored band might be creeping closer. If it truly is Jace… The thought gnawed at her soul, stirring old nightmares.

She glimpsed Kai across the courtyard, reviewing watch rotation logs with a few watchers. Even from a distance, she felt his presence anchoring the group, calm and capable. A pang of longing and fear struck her like lightning. He's unwavering—always there, yet she couldn't bring herself to accept the comfort he offered.

Clutching her arms against the chill, she retreated inside, mind swirling with dread. The watchers would remain vigilant through the night, but it was clear the tension-filled patrol and vanished silhouettes near the tree line had rattled everyone—especially Leila. She refused to confide in anyone about her fear that Jace might be behind these new threats, unwilling to confront the old betrayal head-on. Meanwhile, Kai sensed her growing anxiety, but each time he tried to bridge the gap, she deflected him, focusing instead on shoring up defenses against the looming unknown.