The evening air was thick with the scent of sweat and damp earth, and the settlement's usual murmur of hushed voices and distant machinery humming like background noise. Winter stood near the edge of the waiting area, his casual smirk in place, arms loosely crossed as he observed the checkpoint ahead. He had grown used to the tension in the air—a quiet pressure that never truly disappeared in places like this.
Then—
"Winter?"
His body tensed. The sound of his name, spoken with unmistakable familiarity, surprised him. That voice.
His smirk vanished, replaced by rigid stillness, muscles coiled beneath his worn jacket. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs.
Beside him, Zara noticed immediately. Her sharp hazel eyes flicked to his face, reading the change in his posture. "What is it?"
He didn't answer. His eyes were already scanning the crowd, searching, knowing what he had heard wasn't a trick of the wind.
Then he saw them.
