The four of them crept through the darkened woods, flashlights low, weapons ready. The source of the eerie groaning noise came into view—it was him.
The Wild Man.
Rico had been right.
He was slumped against a tree trunk, blood seeping from a deep gash on his leg and another along his side. His shirt was torn and matted with dirt. Despite the grotesque injury, he hadn't turned. Not yet.
The four froze, watching him, breath held.
The Wild Man blinked groggily at them. "Why are you guys watching me in pain like you're waiting for me to grow fangs and bite you?" he croaked. "I fell from the high stone near the shore when I was exploring."
"Are you sure about that?" Marga asked, arms crossed and brow raised in pure suspicion.
"I'm in pain, and you're asking me if I'm sure that I fell?" he barked, his voice cracking. "You want me to draw you a map where my bones cracked?"
"We'll figure it out later. For now, let's treat him," Rafe said, already turning back. "Xenia knows first aid. I'll go get her."
Tenorio and Caleb stepped forward and helped the injured man to his feet, arms over their shoulders as he limped heavily between them.
---
Inside the cabin, the moment Xenia saw him, she flinched—not from fear of infection, but from sheer shock. His wild, tangled beard, the grime coating his skin, and the smell of week-old sweat made her stiffen.
But her instincts kicked in. She put Rhys down in a cradle-like basket and quickly gathered clean rags, boiled water, and what little alcohol and soap they had.
"Sit him down," she ordered. "And hold still."
She cleaned his wounds, washing away layers of dirt and blood. She checked for bites thoroughly—none. Still, the grime was so thick she nearly mistook a bruised patch of skin for rot.
"Once you feel a little better," Xenia said sternly while dabbing alcohol on a nasty cut, "you better trim that beard and scrub your entire body with soap. Honestly, you're scarier than any zombie I've seen in your state."
The Wild Man groaned. "I didn't expect I'd fall while chasing a dog," he muttered.
"A dog?" Rafe narrowed his eyes.
"Was it infected? Did it have any signs of bites?" Caleb asked seriously.
"No. It looked healthy. Black fur, bright eyes. It barked at me, then ran. I wanted to make it my pet but… I followed it too far, slipped off the cliff near the old docks."
"Why didn't you come back to your shack?" Rico asked, peeking in.
"I tried! I was waiting for someone to notice. I kept yelling, but nobody came. I thought… I thought maybe you all just gave up on me." His voice broke—and with it, so did his tough image.
Suddenly, the gruff Wild Man wasn't so wild—just broken and hurt.
Gabriel walked in with a clean cloth and gently handed it to Xenia. "We didn't give up on you," he said. "We just didn't hear you."
Marga gave a faint scoff, sitting nearby. "Well, next time, don't chase strange animals and stay on the damn trail."
"Yeah," Rafe added, giving him a half-smile. "We've got enough weirdos without adding a zombie dog hunter to the list."
Rico patted the man's arm. "You're back now. Just rest. We'll all take turns checking on you."
The Wild Man looked at them—grateful, emotional—and for the first time since he arrived at their camp, he smiled.
Xenia covered Rhys with a blanket and whispered, "See, little one? Even the wildest of men just want to be found."
As the cabin began to quiet down and the laughter faded into a hum of comfort, Rhys, wrapped in a soft cloth and nestled close to Xenia, gave a small smile in his sleep. It was a fleeting, gentle expression—but everyone who saw it felt their hearts stir with quiet hope.
Xenia brushed a finger lightly over his cheek, whispering, "Even in chaos, little joys still bloom."
From the doorway, Caleb cleared his throat.
"Well then, my task is done," he said, slinging his weapon over his back. "I need to head back before the woods get any darker."
The others nodded. Gabriel gave him a respectful nod. Rico, arms crossed, muttered, "Stay safe out there."
Caleb turned to the room one last time, eyes scanning the faces—Tenorio, Marga, Rafe… and finally Xenia.
His gaze lingered on her.
Xenia met his eyes, lips parting slightly, surprised by the softness in his expression.
With a small, crooked smile, he said simply,
"See you again, Xenia."
She gave a nod, almost too subtle—but there was warmth in her eyes.
Then Caleb stepped into the night, his silhouette framed by the flickering firelight and the rising wind, disappearing slowly down the path that led back to his father's land—leaving behind something more than goats, and taking with him a memory that might just pull him back again.