Fifty-four

dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. The forest, once a place of darkness and danger, was now bathed in the gentle light of a new day. But for Rosa, there was no solace in the beauty around her. She stood at the edge of the clearing, her back to the forest, her gaze fixed on the distant mountains as if searching for something—anything—that could guide her next steps.

Santo approached her cautiously, his footsteps almost silent on the dew-covered grass. He had given her space after what had happened, after she had held her mother’s lifeless body in her arms. He had watched her grieve, knowing there were no words that could comfort her, no actions that could undo what had been done. But now, as the first rays of sunlight touched the earth, he knew he couldn’t let her slip away—not without a fight.

“Rosa,” he called softly, his voice tender yet firm.

She didn’t turn to face him, but he could see the way her shoulders tensed, t