The Long 7 Days

The fire crackled and popped as the cold wind howled through the trees, a constant reminder that the world outside was harsh and unforgiving. Alex sat across from the two strangers, the heat from the flames offering little comfort against the chill that gnawed at his bones. His eyes flicked between the man and the woman, trying to read them, to understand what they were thinking. There was an unspoken agreement in the air—an understanding that things were about to change, though no one was ready to speak the words aloud.

The woman, who had first spotted Alex from afar, was now cleaning her bow with practiced efficiency. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical, as though she had done this a thousand times before. Her long, dark hair was pulled back into a tight braid, and the sharp angles of her face seemed to cut through the shadows, giving her a hard, almost unapproachable appearance. But there was a glimmer in her eyes—a flicker of something, perhaps curiosity, perhaps something else. Alex couldn't tell, but he knew that it wasn't easy to gain her trust.

The man, on the other hand, was less difficult to read. He sat with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a wary, practiced caution. His face was weathered, scarred by years of survival in this brutal world. His eyes, however, were sharp, alert, and seemingly always calculating. Every muscle in his body seemed ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.

Alex knew that getting any information out of them would require patience. He had no illusions that they would simply open up to him, not after a brief exchange. The wilderness didn't work like that. Relationships were forged in the fire of shared struggle, not in the quiet of a conversation. But Alex wasn't deterred. He had faced worse odds before—after all, survival was something he understood better than anyone.

As the night dragged on, the woman finished cleaning her bow and looked up at Alex, her gaze steady, unwavering.

"You're not like the others," she said, her voice low and almost dismissive. "You've been alone out here for a long time, haven't you?"

Alex met her gaze, not flinching. "Long enough," he replied, his voice flat. "But that's not what matters right now. What matters is why you're out here—why you're hiding in the woods, away from everyone else."

The woman didn't respond immediately. Instead, she exchanged a brief glance with the man beside her. He remained silent, but the look they shared was loaded with meaning. It was a conversation without words, a silent agreement that only they understood.

Finally, the woman spoke again, her voice softer this time, though still guarded. "We're not hiding," she said. "We're surviving. There's a difference."

Alex raised an eyebrow, sensing that she was holding something back. "Surviving from what?" he pressed. "The wildlife? The elements? Or is there something else you're running from?"

She hesitated, and for a moment, Alex thought she might refuse to answer him altogether. But then she leaned back, her eyes narrowing as she seemed to weigh the decision in her mind.

"There's always something else," she said slowly, her tone colder now. "In this world, you can't just survive by hunting and foraging. You have to watch your back. Trust no one. Because there's always someone out there who wants to take what you've got. And we've learned that the hard way."

Her words hung in the air like a heavy fog, and Alex felt a shiver crawl up his spine. It wasn't the cold night air that made him uncomfortable—it was the underlying truth in her words. He had seen it before, in the eyes of the desperate and the violent. People out here were not just surviving—they were fighting for something. Power. Resources. Control.

But Alex wasn't here to join anyone's struggle. He was here for something else entirely. Answers.

"Who are you running from?" he asked quietly. "Who's out there?"

The man spoke up then, his gravelly voice cutting through the tension. "It's not who, kid. It's what. There's no name for it. Just people. Groups. People who've lost everything and are looking to take whatever they can. We've had our share of encounters. Some of them you can fight off, others... you just have to run."

Alex's mind raced as the pieces began to fall into place. He had always known the world had changed, that people had become more desperate. But he hadn't yet encountered the full scope of what this new world had to offer. This wasn't just about survival anymore—it was about power. And whoever controlled the land, controlled the resources, controlled everything. The wolves, the weather, the food—it was all secondary. The real battle was being fought among people.

"And that's why you're out here?" Alex asked, his voice laced with skepticism. "Because you're hiding from other people?"

The woman's expression hardened. "We're not hiding. We're just smarter than most. We don't trust anyone. And you'd be a fool to think you can go on out here without watching your back every second."

Alex nodded slowly, processing her words. "I've been alone for a while," he said, more to himself than to them. "I know what it's like to trust no one. But I'm not here to hide from anything."

The man snorted, a sound that might have been a laugh if it wasn't so devoid of humor. "That's the thing about out here, kid. You can say that all you want. But when it comes down to it, you'll see. You'll either adapt or you'll die. No in between."

For a moment, the fire was the only thing that spoke. The woman returned to her bow, and the man shifted his weight slightly, his eyes scanning the surrounding woods, as if waiting for something to jump out at them from the darkness. Alex could feel the tension in the air—these weren't just survivors. They were hunters. Soldiers, even. They had seen things. Done things.

And Alex, for all his self-sufficiency, knew that he was still an outsider in this new world.

As the night wore on, Alex sat in silence, the weight of their words settling heavily in his mind. He knew the wilderness had changed, but hearing it put so plainly made him realize just how much he had underestimated the new reality. It wasn't just about surviving animals or the weather anymore—it was about people. The worst predators were human.

Around midnight, when the air was thick with silence, the man stood up and stretched his legs. He seemed to be preparing for something. Alex watched him carefully, wondering if this was the moment they would either offer him something or chase him off.

"We're heading out in the morning," the man said, his voice flat. "If you want to tag along, you can. But don't think you're part of the crew. We don't trust people easily. And we don't need anyone slowing us down."

Alex didn't hesitate. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for, the chance to learn more, to see how these people survived. But he wasn't foolish enough to think they would offer him anything for free. This wasn't charity. It was business.

"I'll keep up," Alex said, his voice steady. "I don't need handouts. Just information. How you survive out here. How you fight. And how I can do the same."

The man eyed him for a moment, then grunted. "We'll see if you can keep your word."

As the fire burned down to embers, Alex lay down on the ground, his eyes on the sky, listening to the wind howl through the trees. He wasn't sure what lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain: the world had changed, and if he was going to survive it, he needed to be more than just a shadow in the wilderness. He needed to learn. Adapt. And that meant making alliances, however fleeting or dangerous they might be.

Tomorrow, the real journey would begin.