Carefully, a young boy walked through a chaotic environment.
Beneath the shadow of towering buildings, he stood in a square surrounded by massive blocks of concrete and twisted metal, shrubs and creeping plants that covered much of the area. With light steps, he advanced while carrying a bow with an arrow already nocked, though the string remained slack.
Choosing his footing, he sought out spots where the concrete was visible, avoiding branches and dry leaves on the ground, yet with deft strides he moved quickly across the terrain.
Pausing near a bush, he began to draw the bowstring.
Made of metal, it had an aged appearance, covered in signs of use—scratches, dents, and worn spots—but it was well-maintained, evident from its cleanliness and the thin layer of grease coating the metal.
Aiming through the leaves, his target was a white rabbit a few meters ahead. On the other side of the bush, it was feeding on bluish fruits from a small shrub.
After a few hops, it positioned itself directly beneath one and stretched upward to reach it, but the fruit was higher than the others, making it difficult.
Seeing this, the boy continued to draw the string slowly, but the bow, under steadily increasing tension, betrayed its advanced age with a small metallic creak.
— Crick —
In the same instant, the boy stopped drawing.
Though faint, in the silent surroundings where only the wind whispered through the plants, it was enough to alert the animal. Startled, it turned toward the source of the sound.
Ears raised, the rabbit kept them pointed in his direction.
In the next second, as if trying to ease the tension in the air, a strong gust swept between them, rustling all the vegetation.
Hidden among the leaves, his camouflage clothing blending seamlessly, the boy held the bow taut as the breeze passed.
But once the wind died down—lasting only a few seconds—the animal's gaze remained fixed.
In that tense wait, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his face, the boy fought the growing tremor in his arms, a sign he was nearing his limit.
Until, finally, the animal looked away and turned back to the fruit.
Seizing the moment, knowing he couldn't hold much longer, he took a breath, drew the remaining tension—producing another creak—Crickkk—and released the arrow.
Hearing the sound again, the rabbit spun toward the bush just as something struck its body.
The impact shoved it sideways, seeming to make it fall, but...
"Damn it!"
He hadn't killed it.
Frustrated, he watched it bolt away with the arrow still embedded in its body. But refusing to give up, he dropped the bow and gave chase.
Even wounded, the rabbit tried to evade him, darting through plants and concrete blocks, but leaping over some and dodging others, the boy stayed right behind.
Leaving the square, they sped across an empty street and into an abandoned building with its ground-floor entrance wide open. Passing through a spacious lobby—featuring a long reception desk, marble floor, and a beautiful crystal chandelier still hanging from the ceiling—they entered deeper into the structure.
Racing down a straight corridor, though the boy had kept a steady distance before, the animal now began to pull ahead little by little.
Unwilling to let the gap widen, he poured everything into one final burst to close in. Yet the distance kept growing as his legs grew heavier.
Then, suddenly, the rabbit darted through a side door and vanished from sight.
In that moment, convinced it had escaped, a bitter taste of defeat flooded his mouth. But inexplicably, seconds later, the animal reappeared in the corridor—sparking hope, for that brief absence had been enough for him to close the necessary distance.
Seizing the chance, the boy leaped onto it.
"I got you!" he shouted, breathless.
Struggling fiercely, the rabbit twisted with all its strength and bit him.
"Ow!"
But in a swift motion, he drew a knife from his waist and drove it in, stilling the animal's movements.
"Yes!"
With a wide grin, the boy knelt, pausing to catch his breath as exhaustion crashed over him all at once.
"Ahh...."
After a long sigh that expelled his fatigue, he slipped the backpack off his shoulders and, using simple ties, bound the rabbit's legs to secure it inside. Once finished, he slung the pack back on and rose—only to freeze at the sound of something nearby.
Coming from behind, it was like something soft walking across the marble, ending each step with a sticky sound.
Hearing it again, a chill raced up his spine. Slowly turning his head toward the source, his heart raced as he froze in place.
A slender being—well over two meters tall—with skin pale as snow, its bones perfectly outlined beneath, yet dark red lines dripping across that white, stood just a few meters away.
With slow, steady steps, the creature advanced toward him.
As it took another step, its bare feet struck the marble, producing a slightly off-rhythm sound that snapped the boy back to awareness.
In that moment of clarity, summoning what strength he had left, he rose swiftly, drew his knife again, and pointed it at the creature—but deep down, he knew that weapon was nothing more than a twig against that monster.
Interlude: The Old City
In a vast plain in northeastern Europe, where West meets East, a gigantic city lies.
Forgotten by time, it bears the scars of a long-vanished era, from grand buildings reaching for the skies to colossal craters erupting between the structures.
Near the edges and in some central areas, it is cloaked in low vegetation—shrubs and creeping plants, along with scattered trees—that claim much of the city. Yet in a few pockets, great mounds of rubble and twisted rebar remain bare, forming strange islands amid the greenery.
At the heart of the metropolis, covering a considerable portion, a dense temperate forest blankets everything, with a few skyscrapers still emerging from the foliage while others, already fallen, are gradually silenced by the trees.
Yet even amid these signs of abandonment, large swaths of the city stand intact—evident in remarkably well-preserved buildings still holding their windows, and parks that, though untended, have not lost their shape.
Much the same, its streets remain, linking distant districts, though clogged with vast traffic jams of nearly unrecognizable cars stretching for kilometers throughout the interior and around the city.
In this silent environment, a cold breeze sweeps through the wide avenues, between the buildings and skyscrapers, swaying the red and yellow leaves of the vegetation.
Review carried out on 19/01/2026, improvements in rhythm and a translation more faithful to the original text, which is in Portuguese.