Page 3 of Ravaged Saints

“See, I told you this would work,” There is more irony in my voice than intended, but it kept her calm and quiet and gave me time to think and follow my instinct; my father always told me I had a good one, so I just use it, and it has kept me alive all this time, lonely but alive.

“Can we stop for a moment? I’m so tired.” Brynlee looks out of breath.

“Of course.” I help her onto a thick branch, using her torn shirt to dry us off before we slide our shoes back on. I exhale slowly, finally letting myself feel how exhausted I am

Brynlee doesn’t say anything. She just stares ahead, her fingers digging into the bark. Her whole body is rigid, like she’s still bracing for something.

Hesitating, I watch her. Then, carefully I ask, “How long were you with them?”

She flinches.

Shit. I shouldn’t have….

She gives me a small, tired smile. “A week, maybe. I lost track of time.” She sniffs, and my chest tightens.A week.

“I was hunting with my group when they showed up out of nowhere,” she continues, her gaze distant. “They killed my two friends and took me.” Her words tremble as her eyes glaze over, the weight of the memory pressing down on her.

Grabbing her hand, I squeeze it gently, my gaze locking onto hers, and she swallows hard. “I thought I would die at their hands.”

“I’m so sorry,” I murmur. I know this pain, not fully, not the way she’s lived it; I escaped after the first time, but she endured it for days.

I dig through my bag, pulling out some fruit and a piece of sun-dried meat, and she eats like it’s a gourmet feast, and I can’t help but laugh.

She snorts mid-bite. “I’m eating like a pig.”

That sets us both off, laughter bubbling up as we cover our mouths, trying to keep quiet.

Damn. I can’t remember the last time I talked to someone—really talked. Most of the time, it’s just me, the trees, and maybe the occasional bunny. But another human? Another woman?

I didn’t realize how much I missed it.

Brynlee shifts slightly, brushing damp hair from her face. “You’ve been out here a while, huh?” Her tone is soft, not prying—just curious.

Nodding. “Yeah… four years now, I think.” I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. Like it doesn’t weigh on me every damn day.

“Wait, you’ve been alone for years? How the hell did you survive?” She doesn’t even try to hide her shock.

“I was in a settlement with my father and older brother; everything was fine while they were alive. No one would give me the time of day until they died.” I resume it because there is no need for a trauma dump right now.

“Oh,” her eyes soften, “How old were you?”

“When did the plague start?” I have to think hard. “Eighteen, I think. I stayed there for three or four years and then ran away.”

“Did they?” Her voice trails off.

For a second, I consider lying, but maybe she needs to hear it, to know she’s not alone. I sure as hell needed someone to talk to back then, someone to hold me together that night when Cash took my virginity, the way it hurt and all the feelings that came after. I never missed my mother more than I did that night.

“Aspen,” Brynlee says my name softly. Her lips part slightly as if searching for the right words, but her blue eyes speak louder than anything she could say. They look at me like I might shatter at any moment, and I don’t like that look. I’m not the fragile, sweet girl; I’m the one men will fear!

Forcing a smile, I shake my head like it’s no big deal. “They didn’t,” I say quietly, though the weight of those two words sits heavy in my chest. “Just the leader.” I take a breath, steadying myself. “I left the next day.”

I see the questions in her eyes, but she doesn’t push. And for that, I’m grateful.

After the plague, everything changed; my mother and my youngest brother, Lucas, died just weeks after the first case. Hell on earth isn’t even a strong enough phrase for what that first year was. Death was everywhere; bodies piled up faster than anyone could bury them. My father and my older brother did everything they could to keep us safe, dragging us deep into the woods and teaching me to survive off the land. Hunting, fishing, and drinking from muddy ponds when we had to.

I still don’t know how we made it through those years. Governments fell. There were no armies, no police, and no rescue teams. There was no contact with anyone outside our little patch of trees. The last we heard, the Crimson Plague had killed millions, but even after the virus disappeared, it didn’t end. What came after was almost worse.

People started forming communities, little pockets of survivors trying to rebuild some kind of life, and some of them were good, the kind of people who just wanted to live in peace. But others… others were monsters.

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