Page 4 of Ravaged Saints

The Hunters.

The men who stalk the weak, who hunt women like animals.Let’s build a new world, they say, like it’s something noble, like it’s not just a lie dressed up in pretty words. A polished excuse to take, to hurt, to control, and to rip apart everything good and leave nothing behind but ruin.

Brynlee doesn’t look away. Her eyes hold mine, quiet but heavy, like she’s piecing together all the things I’m not saying out loud.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Before I can stop her, she leans in, wrapping her arms around me, and I freeze, my body stiff, instincts screaming to pull away. I don’t even know how to react to this, but when I feel her trembling, when I hear the faint hitch in her breath, something cracks inside me.

I let her cry, her tears sinking into my shirt, soaking through layers I didn’t realize were still there, and then, to my surprise, my chest tightens, my eyes burning in a way I haven’t felt in years.

Don’t cry. Ican’t. I swore I wouldn’t, not afterhim,not after that night when everything I had left was taken from me. I cried so hard back then, I thought I might break in half, and when I finally stopped, I promised myself I’d never let it happen again.

I will never let anyone see me like that again. Crying wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring back my family or the life I should have had.

But here, in Brynlee’s arms, I let the tears fall. For her. For me. For all of it.

The pain we’ve carried, the demons we’ve fought, they all come spilling out under the cold, under the eye of the moon, and for the first time in years, it feels… right.

As if, somehow, crying now will set something free.

Aspen

We’ve spent the night under a tree, hidden in the bushes like I always do when I sleep in the forest; it’s uncomfortable, but it keeps us out of sight if anyone walks by. I doubt anyone will pass through here; this side of the woods we’re in has been untouched by humans even before the plague. We should be safe, at least from Hunters. Animals, though? I’m not so sure, and I don’t need that stress!

“Brynlee,” I call, motioning for her to follow. I want to stick to the trail along the river, but the trees are dense, tangled, and full of threats, the kind that makes my gut clench.

“Bryn.”

I snap my eyes to hers. “What?”

She shrugs, her eyes avoiding mine for a moment. "It’s easier. Bryn." Then she starts walking ahead, her honey-blond hair swaying with each step, tied back in a messy ponytail that reaches the middle of her back.

I watch her for a second. She looks better now—more rested, steadier on her feet. The tension seems to have eased from her shoulders. As for me? I probably look like I crawled out of a grave after partying with a pack of rabid gremlins, but I don’t mind. One of us had to stay on guard, and she needed the sleep more than I did.

A soft breeze brushes past us, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I notice the warmth in the air. It’s almost pleasant—if this weren’t a life-or-death situation, I might even call it a nice walk in nature. Well, except for the damn mosquitoes. These little pests could’ve died off with the plague for all I care. One buzzes too close to my ear, and I swat at it with a scowl.

I let out a slow breath, needing a distraction before I lose my mind over the swarm of tiny bloodsuckers. “So, you were living in a settlement?” I ask, breaking the silence.

She sighs. “Yes. We made our home at the local clothes factory. It was sacked and burned after the plague, but most still stood.” Her eyes lock on the ground, and she seems uncomfortable, so I don’t push it.

After the plague, attacks broke out all over the world, like losing lives to the virus wasn’t enough, but this was humans at their best, always fighting for control, even when there is nothing to control.

“They were nice. Not many women there, of course, but they kept us safe,” she continues. “I met them at work. We ran to a safer place together and stayed that way until I was caught.”

“Oh,” I manage to say; she probably misses them, and unlike me, Bryn hasn’t been alone. Now I get why she looks so lost; this is probably all new for her, being on the run. “It must be hard, so long now without them.”

“It is,” she admits. “But at least now I have you.” She caresses my arm with a genuine smile, and I can’t help but smile back.

For a moment, neither of us speaks, just walking in quiet understanding. Then, as if sensing the weight of unspoken thoughts between us, she tilts her head slightly.

“What did you do before it all happened?” she asks.

I haven’t talked about my past in so long. The thought of it feels foreign, like something from another life—one that doesn’t belong to me anymore. For a second, I’m back there, the sun beating down on my skin, the sound of my mom laughing in the kitchen, my dad’s voice rumbling through the house. It was safe. Simple. Gone.

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, pushing the memories back where they belong. “I was in college,” I say. “It was summer break, and I was back home, enjoying some free time with the family.”

A pang hits my heart at the thought of my family, and tears prickle beneath my lashes, but I shake them off.

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