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Five months later...
There were birds now.
Not the kind Hayamei grew up hearing—crows and buzzards picking at bloodstained gravel—but real ones. Blue jays. Cardinals. Things that sang in the morning like life wasn't always a battlefield.
The cabin sat tucked in a pocket of forest near the Alabama border. Na'Nami called it "the tree castle." It had no neighbors, no internet, and only one generator that Ghost fixed when it acted up.
Jericho was long gone.
Ghost stayed.
Sometimes she forgot he was a killer.
But then he'd walk in shirtless with a scar across his ribs and a pistol holstered at his hip, and she'd remember—no matter how quiet things got, peace in their world always had a clock ticking behind it.
⸻
Na'Nami started drawing lately.
Pages and pages of stick figures holding hands. Sometimes one was taller, with long curls like Hayamei. The other had a beard. The little one always had purple shoes and carried a unicorn.
Hayamei caught her coloring one day in the living room.
"Who's this?" she asked, pointing to the taller man in the drawing.
Na'Nami grinned. "That's Mr. Trey. He says I'm gonna be a star one day."
Hayamei's blood ran cold.
She knelt down. "Mr. Who?"
Na'Nami blinked. "TreyVon. He comes with the mail man sometimes. He gave me juice."
Hayamei stood up so fast the crayons scattered.
"TreyVon?"
Ghost appeared in the doorway, eyes sharp. "What's wrong?"
"Did you let someone named TreyVon near this house?"
He shook his head. "Ain't nobody named TreyVon been on this land."
Hayamei turned back to Na'Nami, voice soft but urgent. "Baby, when did you meet Mr. Trey?"
Na'Nami frowned. "Last week. You were asleep. He said not to wake you."
Hayamei's stomach dropped.
Someone had been in their forest.
And Na'Nami had talked to him.
⸻
That night, Hayamei tore through the cabin—checking locks, reloading magazines, re-burying emergency bags. Ghost paced outside, rifle over his shoulder, scanning the tree line with night vision goggles.
"I knew this was too quiet," Hayamei muttered, throwing clothes into a duffel.
Ghost looked up. "We don't even know if it's real—kids imagine things."
