The camp was quiet, the tension of the previous night’s still lingering in the air. Ethan found Captain Ying sitting alone near the edge of the camp, his back to the jungle. The captain’s posture was rigid, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if searching for something unseen.
Ethan hesitated before approaching, his boots crunching softly against the dirt. “Captain?”
Ying glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “What is it, West?”
Ethan stepped closer, his tone careful. “I wanted to ask you about Azril.”
For a moment, Ying didn’t respond. His gaze returned to the horizon, and the silence stretched uncomfortably. Ethan was about to retreat when Ying finally spoke.
“Azril was... one of the best,” Ying said, his voice quiet but firm. “He wasn’t just a soldier. He was a friend. Loyal, fearless. Maybe too fearless.”
Ethan sat down nearby, sensing this wasn’t the kind of story that could be rushed.
“The mission was supposed to be routine,” Ying continued, his tone darkening. “Recon and containment. We didn’t expect to find a full nest of ghouls, let alone something as powerful as a Mother.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “Azril was our point man. He was the first to engage—and the first to fall.”
Ying’s voice grew heavier as he recounted the mission. “We were outnumbered, outmatched. I made the call to retreat, but Azril was cut off. We tried to get to him, but...” He trailed off, his fists clenching.
“I should have done more,” Ying said finally. “I should have seen the signs, prepared better, fought harder. His death was on me, and I’ll carry that weight until my last mission.”
Ethan leaned forward, his voice steady. “It wasn’t your fault, Captain. You did what you could.”
Ying shook his head. “That’s the problem, West. It wasn’t enough. And now, every mission I push this team harder because I can’t let it happen again. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
Ethan nodded, letting the words sink in. Ying’s guilt was palpable, but so was his determination. It wasn’t just about the mission—it was personal.
“I’ll do my part,” Ethan said. “For Azril. For the team.”
Ying looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “Good. Because out here, we don’t get second chances.”
Leaving Captain Ying alone, Ethan moved around patrolling the perimeter when he saw Anna crouching,sitting alone with her rifle on the rooftop of a dilapidated house near to the Battle Bus.
Ethan climbed up carefully onto the roof of the dilapidated house where Anna sat, her silhouette outlined by the faint glow of the moon. She didn’t acknowledge him immediately, her focus seemingly on the jungle that surrounded their camp. Her sniper rifle rested across her knees, her fingers idly tracing its edge as though it was an extension of herself.
“Mind if I join you?” Ethan asked, balancing himself as he settled a safe distance away.
Anna shrugged, not taking her eyes off the horizon. “Do what you want. Just don’t talk too loud.”
The silence between them stretched, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and distant calls of nocturnal creatures. Ethan, used to conversations during downtime in his SEAL days, found the quiet almost suffocating.
“You always keep watch like this?” he ventured after a while.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Anna’s eyes flicked toward him briefly. “It's a habit. The jungle doesn’t sleep, and neither should we. Not entirely.”
Her tone wasn’t hostile, but it carried the weight of someone who had seen too much to let their guard down easily.
Ethan leaned back, resting his arms on his knees. “I get that. But you seem... more prepared for this than most. Like you’ve been here before.”
Anna didn’t respond immediately. Her gaze drifted upward to the sky, where stars peeked through the thick canopy. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than usual.
“Not here, exactly. But I’ve been close enough.”
Ethan stayed quiet, sensing that she wasn’t brushing him off.
“I grew up in the Appalachian Mountains,” she said, her words deliberate. “Beautiful place, but it has its secrets. My family lived pretty far off the grid—tight-knit, self-sufficient. My grandmother raised me on stories of the things that lived in the woods.”
She paused, her fingers tightening on her rifle. “She said those stories weren’t just tales. They were warnings. Wendigos, Skinwalkers, and all sorts of things people dismissed as folklore. She said they were real, and they were dangerous. I didn’t believe her. Not until I met one.”
Ethan straightened slightly, his curiosity piqued. “You met one? A Wendigo?”
Anna nodded, her face shadowed but her eyes distant, as though the memory played vividly in her mind.
“When I was sixteen, my brother and I went camping. It was supposed to be fun—just us, some marshmallows, and a couple of flashlights. We set up our tent near an old logging trail that hadn’t been used in decades.”
Her voice grew quieter, and Ethan leaned closer to catch every word.
“We heard it first. A howl, long and mournful, cutting through the silence like a knife. My brother thought it was a coyote, maybe a wolf. I thought it was something else—something bigger. The air felt different, heavier, like the woods themselves were holding their breath.”
Ethan could almost picture the scene, the two of them alone in the vast, foreboding wilderness. “What happened next?” he asked.
“It started with the snapping of branches,” Anna said. “At first, it was faint, like something moving far away. Then it got closer. Whatever it was, it was big. Too big to be any animal I’d ever seen. My brother still thought it was a bear. I told him bears don’t make sounds like that.”
She inhaled sharply, as though bracing herself. “We stayed in the tent, hoping it would pass. But then the zipper moved. Slowly, deliberately, like someone—or something—was trying to get in.”
Ethan’s grip tightened on his knees, his pulse quickening as she continued.
“We bolted. Stupid, I know, but we were just kids. We ran as fast as we could through the woods, tripping over roots and branches. That’s when I saw it. Pale, gaunt, with eyes that glowed like fire. It wasn’t human, but it wasn’t an animal either. It was hungry, and it wanted us.”
Anna’s voice wavered slightly, the first sign of emotion breaking through her usual stoicism. “It chased us, tearing through trees and underbrush like they were nothing. I don’t know why it didn’t catch us right away. Maybe it was toying with us, or maybe it liked the hunt.”
“What did you do?” Ethan asked, his voice quiet.
Anna’s grip on her rifle relaxed slightly. “I remembered what my grandmother said: ‘Don’t run. Don’t act like prey.’ So I stopped. I turned around, picked up the nearest thing I could find—a large stick—and made myself as big and loud as I could.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “And that worked?”
Anna nodded. “It stopped. Just stood there, staring at me. Its eyes... they were full of rage, but there was something else. Curiosity, maybe. Like it wasn’t used to someone standing up to it.”
She sighed, her gaze dropping to the rifle in her hands. “It left after a while, disappeared into the trees like it was never there. My brother and I didn’t talk about it much after that, but it stayed with me. It changed the way I looked at the world. I realized there were things out there that didn’t fit into the boxes we like to put them in.”
Ethan leaned back, absorbing her words. “So that’s what brought you to The Division.”
Anna glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Partly. I wanted to understand it. Learn how to fight it. And now, I get to stop those things before they can hurt anyone else.”
They sat in silence for a while, the jungle’s nocturnal sounds filling the space between them. Ethan felt a newfound respect for Anna, not just for her skills, but for the resilience she carried beneath her calm exterior.
“Thanks for sharing that,” he said finally.
Anna shrugged. “Don’t get used to it, West. I don’t open up to just anyone.”
Ethan chuckled softly. “I’ll take what I can get.”
As the moonlight bathed the camp, the bond between them solidified, a quiet understanding forged in the face of the unknown.