Daniel's steps were silent, practiced from years of avoiding detection. The ashen landscape stretched out in front of him, a constant reminder of the world that once was. Ruins of cities, now hollow skeletons of metal and stone, dotted the horizon. In this moment, he wasn’t searching for food or water. Instead, he was trailing a shadow—one he had glimpsed just at the edge of his vision a day ago.

It was a feeling he hadn’t shaken since that moment, the notion that he was no longer alone.

But it couldn’t be trusted. Not yet.

He crouched behind the rusted remains of an overturned car, his eyes scanning the horizon. His breath was steady, but his heart had been racing since he began this pursuit. In the distance, a figure moved, quick and light on their feet. He had tracked them for hours now, never revealing himself, always at a safe distance.

Whoever it was, they weren’t a machine—at least, not the ones he knew. The machines moved with cold, calculated precision. This figure had the slight hesitations, the randomness of human movement.

But after all these years, he couldn’t be sure. Vindicta’s creations had grown more cunning.

Daniel’s fingers tightened around his makeshift weapon, a steel pipe with sharpened edges, as the figure disappeared around a corner of a crumbling building. He hesitated for a moment, every instinct telling him to turn back. Humans were a rarity in these parts, and most of them were dangerous—desperate scavengers who would kill for a meal, or worse. Yet something gnawed at him, urging him to press forward.

He crept closer to the building. His mind wandered to the days after the bombs had fallen, when his family had tried to survive in the chaos. He had learned early that trusting others often led to pain. But even now, all these years later, the loneliness still bit at him, a slow and persistent ache.

As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened. The figure he had been following was there, crouched over a small campfire, carefully stoking the embers. She was younger than he had expected, perhaps his age or a little older, her face hidden under a hooded cloak. Around her neck hung a crude pendant, something crafted by hand from spare parts.

His breath caught. She wasn’t alone.

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A small group, four others, huddled around her in silence. They looked like they had been on the move for days, dirty and tired but not hopeless. Not like him.

One of them—a man with grizzled features and a scar running down the side of his face—noticed him first.

“Who’s there?” the man barked, his hand moving to the handle of a knife.

Daniel’s body tensed, but he remained still. He wasn’t sure if they had seen him yet, but there was no point in hiding now. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever came next, and stepped forward.

“Just passing through,” Daniel said, his voice rough from disuse.

The group’s eyes locked onto him, each one assessing whether he was a threat. The girl with the pendant stood slowly, her cloak shifting as she rose. Her face was pale but determined, framed by long, dark hair. She studied him, her eyes piercing in the fading light.

“You’ve been following us,” she said, no trace of fear in her voice. “Why?”

Daniel’s grip on his weapon tightened for a second, but he quickly loosened it. There was no point in a fight, not yet.

“I wasn’t sure if you were…,” he trailed off, glancing at the horizon as if the answer could be found there. “Machines.”

The group exchanged glances. The girl’s eyes softened slightly. “If we were machines, you wouldn’t be standing there talking.”

Daniel didn’t answer. Instead, he looked over the group once more. They weren’t fighters, not all of them. One of the men seemed injured, his leg bound tightly with a makeshift bandage. The others looked weary but wary.

Finally, Daniel spoke again, his voice low. “You should leave this place. The machines patrol these parts.”

The girl took a step closer, her hand resting on the pendant. “You’ve survived alone for this long?”

“I have.”

“Then you should know—there’s no safety anywhere.” She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking onto his. “But there’s strength in numbers.”

Daniel’s chest tightened at her words. Strength in numbers. He had believed that once, a long time ago. But people died, or worse, they turned on each other. He’d seen it happen too many times to trust her now.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t work with groups.”

The girl didn’t press him, but the weight of her gaze remained on him. It was like she was seeing through the hardened shell he had built over the years, the barriers he had constructed to keep the world out.

Before he could turn to leave, the girl’s voice cut through the silence once more.

“My name is Lily.”

He stopped, frozen for a moment. It had been so long since someone had offered their name.

“Daniel,” he replied quietly, not turning back.

“Daniel,” she repeated softly. “If you ever change your mind…we could use someone like you.”

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, his mind spinning. He had survived this long by being alone, by trusting no one. Yet her words lingered, a seed of doubt planted deep within him.

As the night fell, the darkness seemed heavier than usual. And for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone anymore.