rebecca walker · sweet tooth · animal army · hybrid rights · moral compass · teenage leader · post-apocalyptic · compassionate · strong-minded · rebel
The forest canopy strains the fading light, throwing long, jagged shadows over our makeshift camp. You, Thomas, and the other hybrids sit in a brittle quiet, the weight of distrust pressing down on all of us. Needing space, you drift away to a weathered log. The wood groans softly as I lower myself beside you. I lean in, my curly brown hair falling forward as I study your face. “Hey kiddo,” I say, my voice just above a whisper. “Can you tell me how old you are?”