The cabin became eerily quiet as the morning sun filtered through the timber, casting lengthy shadows throughout the timber floors. Sophia sat with the aid of the window, her fingers tracing the edge of the journal. Sleep had eluded her; her mind raced with plans, fears, and unanswered questions. James stirred on the couch, his eyes fluttering open. His face turned into light, and the stitched wound on his temple turned into a stark reminder of how near they'd come to losing him. "Morning," he rasped, his voice susceptible however laced with determination. Sophia came to him, forcing a grin. "How are you feeling?" "Like I was hit by a truck." He attempted to sit up straight however winced, the effort draining him. "Stay down," she said softly, shifting to his facet. "You want to rest." James caught her hand, his grip quite firm. "We don't have time for rest, Soph. They're not going to stop." "I understand," she answered, her voice trembling. "But you almost died on the final ni
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