CHOICES WE MAKE

Daniel's POV I always saw myself as someone who is clear about his preferences. I find decisions to be simple. But tonight when I sit by the fire, everything feels as though it is smothering me. With her face difficult to see, Lena sits on the other side of the fire and stares blankly into the woods. The others are asleep; she and I don't have anytime soon for sleep. I want to find out what she is thinking so that I may somehow organize all that has transpired. But by now I know her well enough to spot her lost in contemplation. She is a mystery I now find great appeal. And tonight she seems to be bearing the same kind of weight I am. "Do you suppose he was ever really with us?" Lena's voice breaks through the quiet. I know the person she is referencing. Adam: The friend we assumed we knew, the man now hardly more than a shadow in our life. Though something deeper churns behind it—a sense of loss, of something taken—the betrayal still hurts. My voice hardly whispers, "I used to believe he was," I say. Still now, though What I should believe is unknown. She nods, tears shimmering in her eyes. "Everything we have built and fought for feels contaminated now." We pause, heavy and uncomfortable, between one other. Though I could say so much, words seem insufficient. When you both carry so much, what do you say to someone? Admittedly, almost shocking myself, I do not want to believe he is beyond saving. This is the first time I have spoken it aloud; perhaps, just maybe, Adam is still someplace in there, not totally lost. Lena's eyes connect mine, and for a few seconds I believe I see a sliver of optimism mirrored back at me. She rapidly turns away, though, with a cautious grimace. "Sometimes I feel he is, Daniel. And occasionally... She stumbles and her voice breaks just a little. I understand the agony she is carrying—the sting of betrayal mingled with the yearning for something we cannot now have. The rest of the group starts to move as morning breaks. Their motions show the tiredness, a shared weight none of us seem to be able to shake. First to talk is Nyla, whose voice breaks the silence. What then is the strategy? She looks around at every one of us. The scheme. I wish I could identify what that was. But I refuse to let them view that uncertainty. They come to me for direction and for solutions. And perhaps if I create confidence long enough, I will begin to believe it personally. We keep marching, I say, attempting to project power. Adam won't stop, hence neither can we. Elias narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. "That's it?" We simply keep on, believing we won't be stepping straight into a trap? This is a reasonable query from which I have no simple response. Though the statements seem hollow, we are not walking blind. We know what we are fighting for and have each other. I cannot say I blame Elias since he does not seem convinced. But I refuse to allow his uncertainty to permeate the others. I go up then, attempting to project the confidence I can. "Adam chose his road," I said. "And now it's up to us to see to it he doesn't ruin what we have worked for. His decisions cannot define who we are. Lena steps in line with me as we pack our campsite. Her eyes sparkle with a fire, a will I have not seen in a long time. She seems to have at last found peace with something, and I can sense her changing. She says gently, "I think you're right." "We cannot keep looking backwards or allowing him to hold us down." I nod, like relief flooding over me. No, we are not able to. That does not, however, imply it will be simple. She smiles little, one that seems like a promise. "I'm not looking for something simple." I just need us to be strong enough to see this through. I saw then how much I have come to depend on her fortitude and endurance. She has been consistent throughout all this turmoil; she is the one who grounds me even when I felt as though I was losing everything. Moving across the forest, a fresh goal takes the front stage. This struggle, this trip is about more than only survival. Beyond the betrayals and the losses, it's about discovering something worth battling for. The day passes and, with every stride, I feel the weight somewhat lightening. We are racing toward something, towards a future we are sculpting for ourselves, not merely from Adam now. But we pause in our tracks as the sun starts to drop below the horizon. Rustling sounds. My heart is hammering as I search the trees for the source, I indicate for everyone to keep quiet. Rising from the shadows, tall and commanding, a man hides his face in the low light. My hand reaches for my weapon, but the way the figure stands stops me. "Daniel," says. My heart falls when I identify the familiar voice. Adam enters the light with a look incomprehensible. I notice the lines of tiredness carved on his face, the troubled glance in his eyes. But there is something, something I cannot quite locate. "Adam," I say, my voice more consistent than I feel. "What do you want??" He looks about at the others, lingering for a bit longer than required on Lena. I arrived to discuss. I could feel everyone staring at me, eager to see how I would react, and there was clear tension. Try to keep the wrath out of my voice; you've done enough talking. "We don't want whatever you have to offer." He flinches, and for a minute I believe I see regret flickering. But it's gone as fast as it arrived, replaced by the same cold, deliberate look. His voice low, he continues, "This isn't about lies." "It has to do with survival. You are not sure what is approaching. I grit my teeth and try to keep cool. "And I suppose you're the only one that does?" He nods with a deadly serious look. " More is at risk than any of you could possibly know. Although you left me without an option, I did not want to do this. The words make me shiver down my spine, and I understand that whatever he intends, it is more than any of us have in mind. I will not let him, however, control us or cause us to doubt ourselves. We will stop you, I declare, with a firm voice. "We'll figure out a way to stop you whatever your plans are." He laughs quietly and without amusement. You're free to try. But, Daniel, you are out of your depth. Always you have been. Though I force myself to stand upright and hold his eyes without flinching, his words strike me like a punch to the gut. Lena steps forward, not terrified of you, Adam. Her voice is consistent; her eyes blaze with a fire I have not seen in a very long time. He looks at her with an odd, almost impressed attitude. His expression stiffens then, though, and he steps back, vanishing into the darkness without another word. The suspense releases as soon as he leaves, and I feel the weight drop over me once more. But this time, it's different. This time it seems as though we are on the brink of something, as though we are at last ready to meet whatever is ahead. That evening when we are setting up camp, I find myself sitting by myself and lost in meditation. Lena comes along; her weight is consoling next to me. "You did good back there," she replies quietly. You prevented him from reaching you. I shrug, trying to lighten it. "I simply followed my obligations." She looks at me knowingly and I know she sees through me, through the doubts and worries I try so hard to conceal. "We're going to get through this, Daniel," she adds with a subdued resolve. I have faith in you. On us. Her words calm the stress that has been rising inside me for so long like a balm. And for the first time in a long time, I have hope—that perhaps we are strong enough to meet whatever is ahead. I hang onto that hope—that conviction that we are more than just survivors—as I fall off to sleep. We are fighters, bonded by something more than anxiety. And we won't let Adam shatter us no matter what he tosses at us.