That evening Hunter sat alone on the wall, watching the settlement as twilight fell. Forty-eight people moving through evening routines. Cooking meals. Talking quietly. Living. Children played despite the cold, their laughter carrying across the distance like proof that hope was annoyingly persistent. Families found warmth in community and shared survival.
All safe because he'd made choices he hated.
The sun set slowly, sky turning orange and purple and deep blue in layers. Beautiful and completely indifferent to human suffering or moral compromise.
The cold intensified as darkness came. Hunter's breath misted despite Foundation Realm cultivation. Winter was coming. Inevitable. Uncaring.
