When she awoke, the other side of the bed was cold.

Her hand moved instinctively across the mattress, searching for her sister’s warmth, but her fingers met only the rough canvas cover. The absence told her everything she needed to know. Rose had likely woken from nightmares again and slipped into their mother’s arms before dawn.

Of course she had.

It was the day of the Fishing.

She pushed herself up on one elbow. Pale morning light filtered through the narrow window, just enough to make out the two figures on the other cot. Rose lay curled against their mother’s chest, their cheeks pressed together. In sleep, their mother looked younger, the tightness around her eyes softened, the strain of survival momentarily erased. But even in rest, there was a shadow beneath her expression, as though worry refused to loosen its grip completely.

Rose, by contrast, looked untouched by hardship—fresh as dew on a flower.

The girl swung her legs off the bed and slid her feet into her hunting boots. The leather was worn but supple, molded perfectly to her stride. She dressed quickly: trousers, a faded shirt, and then tucked her long dark braid beneath a cap. Her forage bag hung ready on the wall.

Outside, Sector 7—nicknamed the Onyx—should have been alive with the clatter of Carbonyx miners heading to their morning shifts. Usually the streets filled with men and women hunched from years underground, their knuckles swollen, coal dust permanently embedded beneath broken nails. Their faces carried the same gray cast as the cinder roads.

But today the streets were empty.

Shutters remained closed. Doors stayed barred.

Collection Day was approaching.

Their small house stood near the edge of the Onyx, only a short walk from the scruffy field locals called the Meadow. Beyond it rose the chain-link fence that sealed off the sector. Barbed wire coiled along its top, a constant reminder of containment. Officially, it was meant to protect residents from the predators roaming the forest—wild dogs, cougars, bears that once threatened the streets. Officially, it was electrified at all hours.

In reality, electricity came only two or three hours each evening.

Still, she paused beside the fence and listened carefully for the faint hum of live current.

Silence.

Flattening herself against the ground, she slid beneath a loosened stretch hidden by bushes. The gap had existed for years, unnoticed or ignored. There were other weak points along the perimeter, but this one was closest to home.

The moment she crossed into the woods, she felt the difference.

Here, the air carried the scent of damp earth and untamed growth. She retrieved her bow and quiver from a hollow log where she kept them concealed. Electrified or not, the fence had succeeded in keeping most predators out of Sector 7.

Inside the forest, however, danger moved freely.

Venomous snakes slithered beneath leaves. Rabid animals wandered without warning. There were no clear paths, only instinct and memory to guide her.

Trespassing was illegal. Poaching carried severe punishment. Most residents would never risk it, especially without proper weapons. Few dared venture beyond the fence armed with nothing more than a knife.

She had taught herself to hunt.

The bow had come from a hunter from the Capital who had "accidentally" left it behind during an inspection visit. An accident no one had tried very hard to correct.

Hunting was the only thing that felt like freedom.

Today she planned to check near the river. Animals often came to drink at dawn.

The forest thinned as she approached the water.

But instead of a rabbit or deer stepping cautiously toward the bank, she saw a figure drifting with the current.

Her breath caught.

A boy.

He was floating face down.

For a moment she thought he was already dead.

Then she saw it—

A faint movement.

A breath.

"Oh no... he’s still alive."

Without hesitation, she dropped her bow and plunged into the freezing river.

---

Tyler walked in the forest, studying the towering trees and the distant haze that marked human habitation. The air here was different— zero spiritual energy, heavy with mortal breath and earthbound struggle. Compared to the worlds he had walked before, this place felt restrained, almost starved of higher laws.

"This place is Sector 11?" he asked, glancing at the girl beside him.

She rolled her eyes faintly, though there was less wariness in her expression than before. Since he claimed to remember nothing except his name, she had relaxed slightly.

"Not this, silly," she said. "We’re in the woods near the sector. Sector 11 is past the fence."

Tyler nodded slowly, pretending to process unfamiliar knowledge.

"Huh. Can you bring me there?"

She hesitated, then shifted her bow over her shoulder. "It’s not impossible. But I need food first. I can’t go back empty-handed." She tapped the bow lightly. "I have to hunt."

Tyler looked at the weapon with interest. Though this body was mortal and weak, Tyler still has knows how to use Bow and Arrow.

"I can help you, if you want," he offered.

She tilted her head. "Oh? Are you good with a bow?"

"Yeah... I think so." He extended his hand. "Can you give me that?"

For a brief second, their fingers brushed as he reached toward the bow.

The contact made her flinch.

She stepped back quickly, shyness returning to her face. A faint redness crept up her neck. She took a steadying breath and shook her head.

"No. I’m not handing my weapon to a stranger boy. If you want to help, just follow me. After the hunt, I’ll take you to the sector."

Tyler raised both hands lightly in surrender and nodded.

They walked deeper into the forest, moving toward a river bend where animal tracks were etched into the mud. Tansy crouched low, scanning the underbrush with practiced eyes.

But time passed.

Ten minutes.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Not a single rabbit stirred. No deer approached the water.

She frowned. "Weird. Animals usually gather here at this hour."

Tyler glanced around subtly. He couldn’t even see any birds in the forest— perhaps the presence of a new predator had unsettled the balance, or perhaps this was simply a difficult day.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked. Since there is no prey, they should just try different methods.

She stood and brushed dirt from her knees. "Let’s try fishing at the lake downstream. If I can bring something decent home tonight, that’s enough." Then she glanced at him sideways. "Can you help me with fishing?"

"Do you have fishing gear?" Tyler asked.

She let out a short laugh. "Gear? Watch."

They reached a calmer stretch of river. Without hesitation, she drew an arrow and stood poised at the bank. Her eyes narrowed, tracking subtle ripples beneath the surface.

The arrow flew.

It pierced cleanly into the water.

A fish thrashed at the tip as she lifted it triumphantly, striking an exaggerated, proud pose that made Tyler almost smile.

"Impressive," he said.

She beamed, pleased.

Then Tyler pointed casually at the river. "The fish is drifting away."

Her eyes widened. She had forgotten about the current.

Without thinking, she dropped her bow and quiver on the ground and leapt straight into the river. Her movements were quick and efficient, cutting through the water with surprising speed for someone raised in a sector.

Tyler noticed that. Her physique was that of a mortal, yet she moved with unusual strength.

As she swam after the fish, realization struck her like cold water.

She had left her weapon behind.

With a stranger boy that she just met.

Her heart lurched.

What if he picked it up? What if he aimed it at her back? She had been foolish— careless.

Fear mixed with bitterness as she turned slightly, expecting betrayal.

She saw him standing at the bank.

Bow in hand.

An arrow drawn.

For a split second, sorrow pierced her chest.

So she had been right to distrust.

The arrow released.

It did not strike her.

It flew past her shoulder and plunged into the river behind.

Three splashes followed in rapid succession.

When she turned fully, she saw it— three fish skewered cleanly along a single shaft, struggling in the current.

Her jaw dropped.

Water rushed into her mouth as she stared.

She quickly snapped out of it and grabbed the fish before they could drift away.

When she returned to the bank, breathless and stunned, Tyler extended his hand.

She hesitated only a moment before taking it.

His grip was firm, steady.

He felt the roughness of her palm— the hardened calluses of someone who worked, climbed, hunted, survived.

It was Not soft, Nor delicate.

"That was a great shot," she said, genuine admiration in her eyes.

Tyler scratched the back of his head lightly. "I don’t know. Maybe I used to use a bow before."

That part, at least, was not entirely a lie.

He had wielded far deadlier weapons, heck even his body was a weapon too.

"By the way," he added casually, "you never told me your name."

She smiled this time without hesitation.

"Tansy," she said. "My name is Tansy."