The cold bit into my skin as I pushed myself off the hard ground hours later. My muscles ached, stiff from sleeping on the bare forest floor. I'd stayed a few meters away from the camp, not entirely sure if I was ready to be among them yet—or if they even wanted me there.
But better safe than sorry.
The first rays of dawn had smeared the sky in muted grays and oranges already, revealing the camp in fuller detail. It wasn't much, just a collection of makeshift tents patched with mismatched fabrics, tarps, and branches. The firepit from last night sat in the center, still smoldering faintly, with charred logs and ashes marking last night's meal—or lack thereof. The air smelled of damp earth and smoke, and the ground was littered with discarded scraps of cloth and bones.
The rogues weren't exactly thriving, but they'd carved out their own space here in this scary place. There was a certain boldness in the way their camp stood, ragged but resilient.
Movement caught my eye. A few of them were already awake, their voices low as they moved towards the firepit. I followed their movement with my eyes.
Raze was sitting at the firepit, cross-legged on a log, his dark eyes scanning the camp like he was always on alert. Yani sat beside him, her tall, lanky frame hunched forward as she murmured something to him. Her black hair was tied back messily, strands escaping to frame her sharp, angular face.
As I stepped closer, Yani's gaze snapped to me. Her blue eyes were as cold as last night; I'd hoped for a bit of friendliness, but I was dead wrong. She didn't say anything, but the hard set of her jaw spoke volumes. After staring at me for long seconds, she stood, brushing off her tattered pants, and walked away without so much as a glance back.
My heart constricted at her silent disapproval. Sure, I hadn't expected them to welcome me with open arms, but the bitterness of her stare left a sour taste in my mouth.
"You'll get used to it," came a voice from behind me.
I turned to see Buzz-Cut Woman striding toward me with a smirk. Her eagle-like eyes locked onto mine as she stopped a few paces away, crossing her arms. She was as imposing up close as she had been the night before; her buzzed hair made her angular features stand out even more.
"We weren't properly introduced yesterday. My name is Cassidy." She introduced. "Second in command to Raze around here, though Yani would argue otherwise."
I parted my lips to reply, but she raised a hand to shut me up.
"Forget about trying to make everyone like you. You're not here to make friends," she said flatly. "You're here to work. And if you're expecting a warm welcome, you're in the wrong place."
"But how—" I started, but she cut me off with a gesture toward the camp.
"Do you see anyone lounging around here? No? That's because survival doesn't wait for pity or excuses." Her tone was sharp, almost scolding. "If you want to stick around, you'll pull your weight. Starting now."
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small, rusted knife. It wasn't much—a jagged blade barely bigger than my palm—but it felt heavy when she thrust it into my hand.
"Your first assignment is scavenging," she continued. "You'll go out with one of our groups, find food, bring it back, don't get yourself killed while doing It. Simple."
I frowned, glancing at the knife. "Scavenging? You mean hunting?"
She snorted, a harsh sound that might have been a laugh. "We're rogues, you idiot, not Elites. We don't hunt with fancy weapons or pack strategy. We take what we can find—what others leave behind. Trash, scraps, leftovers. If we're lucky, maybe something fresh."
The bluntness of her words didn't ease my trepidation. But I tightened my grip on the knife and nodded.
"And what if we find nothing?" I asked quietly.
Buzz-Cut Woman shrugged. "Then you starve."
I swallowed hard and glanced down at the knife in my hand, nodding again.
"And don't ask stupid questions," she added. "Just follow orders. You'll figure it out soon enough."
She turned abruptly, motioning toward a group gathering near the edge of the camp. "You're with them. Keep up or get left behind."
I hesitated for a moment, then started toward the group. There were six of them in total, their clothes as ragged and mismatched as the camp itself. Among them were the red-haired twins I'd seen last night. They were identical down to the faint scars across their freckled noses and the way their wiry frames moved in sync.
One of them glanced at me briefly, sizing me up before looking away. The other didn't even acknowledge my presence.
"Don't slow us down," one of the twins muttered as I approached. His voice was low, almost a growl.
I nodded silently, not trusting myself to speak.
The rest of the group paid me little attention, focused instead on checking their gear—a mix of battered bags, empty cans, and makeshift traps and weapons.
Buzz-Cut Woman—Cassidy, I reminded myself, though I wasn't sure if I'd earned the right to use her name yet—watched from a distance, hands in pocket. When the group seemed ready, she called out, "Move out in five. And keep an eye on her."
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment, sharp and assessing, before she turned and walked away.
I gripped the knife like my life depended on it—It probably did. Keep an eye on me, I thought bitterly. As if I'm the liability here.
The camp began to fade into the background as we assembled near the forest's edge. The air felt colder here, heavier, as if the trees themselves were warning us to stay away.
But this was my chance to prove that I wasn't just some helpless stray. Perhaps my only chance. I had to be brave.
I sighed, tucking the knife into the waistband of my pants. The cold feel of it against my skin felt foreign, unwelcome, but I wasn't about to let these rogue wolves see my hesitation. Without a word, I fell into step behind the group as we disappeared into the trees.