CHAPTER 145: THE CAMP

Step. Step. Sit.

The sound of footsteps echoed softly on the dirt floor before Steve eased himself down with a grunt, settling cross-legged within the circle of firelight. He didn’t say anything at first—just walked up and sat, right there beside Lemon.

Lemon was already there, back straight, surrounded by Jane, Fiona, Sarah, and Tonya. The five of them had entered the open side of the camp just moments ago, the canvas flaps swaying gently in the breeze behind them. Through that gap, the outside world was still visible—a sliver of wilderness, shadows shifting beyond firelight. And beyond that... people.

The realization was strangely comforting.

They weren’t the last ones. They weren’t alone.

The boy’s mind wandered, numbed by exhaustion and the long road behind them. But Lemon’s voice cut through the haze, startling him back to the present.

"You’re safe now," he said, her voice loud enough to carry but warm enough to hold them together. His gaze swept over the group before flicking toward Steve.

He looked up, eyes flicking to her, and then to the others.

Lemon leaned forward. "Are you hungry? We don’t have much," he admitted, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear,

"but we managed to bring down a deer this morning. There’s stew on the fire."

"For the whole camp?" Fiona asked, raising a skeptical brow.

"That’s not going to be enough, is it?"

Lemon’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"We make do," he said plainly. "We have to."

Fiona blinked, the answer catching her off guard. She wasn’t trying to be rude—just practical.

"Right," Lemon added with a small nod.

"We go with what we’ve got."

Steve, quiet until now, cleared his throat.

"We’re grateful for anything. Really. Just..." He hesitated. "We didn’t know there was a camp. Let alone food."

Lemon gave him a glance, half a smile but with tired eyes. "Smart and not dead. That’s a good start."

Then, without another word, she stood and motioned to Jane.

"Come on."

The two women left the circle, their silhouettes melting into the darkness beyond the campfire. Only the distant crackle of the flames and murmured conversations from nearby tents remained.

Steve sat quietly. Around him, the others looked to the fire, to each other, to the shadows dancing just beyond the circle of warmth. The magic guards remained close, still and silent, watching everything.

It had only been a few moments since Lemon and Jane disappeared beyond the firelight when Sarah finally spoke.

"So... they’re gone now."

Her voice was low, barely more than a breath. The fire crackled quietly between them.

"How do we even tell them?" she continued, eyes flicking between the others. "There’s a vale surrounding the town. No one asked them to come here. And judging by what they’ve built out here, I think... I think they’ve already given up on going back. They’ve been out here too long. Maybe they already know they can’t get through."

Steve let out a long sigh, rubbing his temples with the heel of his palm. "If anyone knows," he said, "it’ll be Lemon. Most of the people in this camp? They’re not fighters. They’re farmers. Children. Refugees." He glanced around, lowering his voice. "I doubt they’d even want to leave now. Not when the woods are crawling with goblins and worse."

He paused, his tone hardening.

"But this place... it’s not safe either. The shrubs and undergrowth make for decent cover, sure, but that only lasts so long. It’s a miracle the goblins haven’t overrun them already. Sitting in one spot, cornered like sheep... it’s a death sentence."

But Sarah didn’t flinch. She stared at the fire and said quietly, "They do have an option."

Her eyes lifted to meet his. "Us."

Steve stared back, unmoving.

"If we take the fight to the goblins, if we kill them off, then maybe these people have a chance," she said firmly. "Isn’t that why the magic guards exist? To protect the ones who can’t protect themselves?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just kept looking at her, jaw clenched.

"I mean it," she pressed. "We can’t just sit here while people die. Don’t you think?"

Steve opened his mouth—then closed it again. Finally, he muttered, "Yes. But... my mom..."

Sarah’s voice cut through his hesitation. "Yes, your mom is still out there. I know that. But so are these people. We don’t even know where your mother is right now."

She leaned forward, her voice softer now, but no less firm. "I’m not saying give up. I’m saying... don’t lose more lives while holding onto a maybe. Maybe your mom is safe. Maybe she’s waiting. But they’re here. Right now. Bleeding. Starving. And they need us."

Her words hit like hammers, and for a moment, Steve turned his head, jaw tight.

God damn it, he thought. She’s actually right.

But Margie was still out there. The thought of leaving her behind burned a hole in his chest. And if he just stayed here, after everything—after the fight with Ira, after everything they’d sacrificed—what would that mean?

Sarah didn’t press him further. She turned away, staring into the distance, shoulders tense with frustration and restraint. She knew the weight of what she’d said. She also knew he was right to hesitate.

Silence settled in. Not heavy—just thoughtful.

Then Steve spoke again, his voice steady.

"No. You’re right... to an extent."

She looked over her shoulder at him.

"I can’t give up on finding Margie," he said. "If I did, everything that happened with Ira would’ve been for nothing. All that blood, all that pain... it has to mean something."

His eyes glinted with determination now.

"But you’re right too. We have a responsibility to these people. We can’t let them die while we chase ghosts."

He looked around at the others.

"So I’ve been thinking... we split up."

At that, Fiona and Tonya’s heads whipped toward him.

"What?" Fiona said sharply. "We just got back together, Steve. After all this time. And now you want to split?"

Tonya frowned. "You can’t be serious."

But Steve held up a hand. "Wait. Just hear me out."

They went quiet, uneasy but listening.

"I’m not talking about disappearing again. I just mean... we divide the risk. One group stays here, helps defend the camp, protects the civilians. The other goes out, keeps searching for answers—and for Margie. If she’s still alive, she’s out there somewhere. And if she’s not..." His voice caught. "Then I need to know."

Sarah folded her arms, watching him closely.

He didn’t wait for her to object.

"I’ll go with whoever’s willing," he added.

"But if we do nothing—if we wait—this whole camp could go up in flames. I’m not losing more people. Not again."

"This is the smartest thing we’ve come up with so far," Steve said, his voice firm but calm as he stood before the fire, his eyes scanning each of them. "We have two priorities—both equally important."

He held up a hand, fingers folding one by one as he spoke.

"One: find Maggie.

Two: protect the people here."

The fire crackled in the pause that followed.

"There are four of us," he continued. "And, honestly..." He exhaled. "I would’ve preferred it if Ser Ira were still around."

A few heads nodded at the name. Ser Ira—powerful, disciplined, feared. Her presence alone had been a shield against chaos.

"But she’s not," Steve said. "So this falls on us."

)

His voice didn’t falter. It had the sharp, measured cadence of someone who had accepted the weight of leadership.

"The best plan is to split into two teams. Two of us will remain here, holding the camp together—defending it, feeding it, making sure these people survive long enough for someone to make a difference. The Vale still surrounds Miros, and until we bring it down, this camp is the only safe zone left."

He took a step forward.

"The second group will be led by me."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt.

"Lemon said Maggie was chased off by a goblin. That means there’s a trail—something. If she was killed..." His voice caught, just for a moment. "Then her body, or something, would be out there."

Silence settled like a weight across the group.

"But I don’t believe she’s dead," Steve continued, more softly now. "This isn’t just hope. I believe she’s still out there. That belief isn’t bias—it’s instinct. And if there’s even a chance, I have to follow it."

He turned to the others. "So here’s what I’m proposing: Fiona and I will go. We’ll search for Maggie, follow any trail we can find, and do it quickly."

He shifted his gaze to the others.

"Sarah. Tonya. You stay here. Protect the camp. Keep the people safe. No one trusts us yet—but if we can hold the line and help them survive, they will."

A quiet settled after he spoke, the fire popping as it devoured a fresh log.

Then, after a moment of thought, Tonya nodded. "I suppose you’re right."

"It’s probably the best move at this point," Fiona added, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "But..." She paused. "We have to be careful."

She looked around at them all, her voice suddenly laced with something heavier—fear, maybe, or responsibility.

"No more mistakes. No more casualties. We can’t afford any."

Steve looked at her. "We won’t."

"But what if something happens to you out there?" Sarah asked, her voice quiet but sharp. "If you don’t come back, what then? The people here... they’ll have no one."

Steve didn’t flinch. He just met her gaze and said, steady as ever, "If we’re careful—and we will be—then we’ll be fine. I’m not walking out there just to die. And besides..."

He glanced toward the dark trees beyond the firelight.

"Ser Ira is still out there. Somewhere. If anyone knows how to survive, it’s her."

They all stood in silence again, four shadows lit by flickering firelight, the weight of their choices pressing in from all sides.

And then Steve spoke one last time.

"Tomorrow, we begin. Fiona and I will set off to find Maggie. The rest of you keep this camp alive. Protect these people. If we hold both ends of this mission together, we might just have a chance."