Bree and Charlie run over to me, Penelope yapping at their heels. When they reach me, they throw their arms around me and Penelope licks my hand. Watching them flourish is the best reward of all.

“Want to come to Trixie’s?” Bree asks me once she releases me from her bear hug. “Charlie and me are going to play Jenga.”

Charlie and Bree have been spending all their free time with the Forest Dwellers, particularly Trixie and her family, learning how to forage and playing games. Trixie’s dad carved a Jenga set, which has been well played ever since.

“I’d love to,” I say. “But I have plans.”

I glance up at Ryan shyly. He smirks. Bree looks from me to Ryan then nods knowingly at Charlie. They think something romantic is happening between us, but really it’s not. At least, I don’t think it is. It’s just that we’ve been spending a lot of time together out in the forest, hunting and fishing together, as well as discussing our positions at Fort Noix, and the Commander’s isolationism. Because while I love seeing the kids thrive, I also know in my heart that I can’t stay here forever. I need to go out looking for survivors. I have a moral duty. Ben’s been safe under the radar for six months. I can’t put my life on hold for someone who doesn’t seem to want to know me anymore.

“Shall we?” Ryan says, gesturing toward the path that will lead us into the forest.

I can practically feel Ben’s glare from here. I don’t like hurting him, but I can’t just stay on pause forever. He’s the one pulling away from me, not the other way round.

I nod, and leave with Ryan.

*

The woods have become my favorite place. As much as I love Fort Noix and how well it runs, like a well-oiled machine, nothing can beat the peace and tranquility of the forest. If there’s any good to have come out of the war, it’s that nature is getting the chance to reclaim the earth. My only wish is that if civilization ever recovers, we don’t destroy the environment again.

Ryan and I go straight to the river to check on the poles. Eating the food supplied by Fort Noix is one thing, but catching our own fresh food and cooking it on the bonfire is quite another.

We find that we’ve both had catches. I tug on my line and pull out a trout, its scales glistening in the spring daylight.

“Nice catch,” Ryan says when he sees it.

He’s smiling, but I don’t feel like returning the gesture.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, when he notices my lackluster expression. “Anyone would think you’d just lost the shooting competition!”