Where the trees parted, there was light.

There were narrow streets lined with torches, flickering in the midnight breeze; windows illuminated by butter candles and laughter; scattered constellations of campfires in backyards. And there were people around them, families and friends, singing and telling stories like an old country song Otto used to know and hadn’t heard in an enternity. _A civilization_, he thought incredulously. _It must be a dream_.

But as he pinched the skin of his forearms, the pain was bright and genuine, sending sparks through his veins and stark tears of joy running down his cheeks.

The scene in front of him was real.

“We should go over there,” he whispered giddily, tugging his companion, Scarlett, by the elbow. “Maybe they’ll help us. Or maybe even let us stay with them. I can’t wait to talk with them, and—”

Scarlett pulled him back to her, cutting him off.

“How do we know they’re safe?” she said, eyes wide with worry. “Look, stranger danger was a thing even before the end of the world. But now, it’s a necessary caution. I mean, supplies are really scarce, and most people are probably going to do whatever they can to defend their own.” She sighed, gaze darting away from Otto. “What I’m saying is, these people might not react well to us just walking into their already established society and asking for things.”

Otto hesitated. Scarlett had a point, but he wasn’t sure he was sold on it. For four years, they’d been on the road, rarely seeing a soul except her. Four whole years, practically alone on a ruined planet. Don’t get him wrong, he loved Scarlett like a cousin, but one person was hardly a community. He missed the liveliness of people, when every town wasn’t a ghost town and chatter rung out like church bells at every turn. He missed their energy and their variety, the way two twins could lead identical lives down to the last freckle on their nose and still grow into polar individuals. And God, he really missed their light.

“Isn’t that a risk worth taking, though?” he said, letting his arms fall flat against his sides. “I don’t know about you, but I’m sick and tired of wandering. This isn’t a life.” He held her shoulders, searching her nervous face. “I want a home, Scarlett.”

He expected retaliation—one thing he’d learned over the years was that Scarlett hated to lose an argument—but she simply nodded, shoulders slumped.

“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, I’m tired too.” And looking at her again, he could see it in places he hadn’t noticed before: her weary eyes, her downtrodden mouth, her staggering steps. He’d always viewed her as this strong, stone cold survivor; the day he found her, she was tending to her own burn wounds from inside of a storm shelter, and still, she’d been the one to save him.

And, yet, she’d never really talked to him about how she felt about it before.

“Are you sure?” he asked, stepping toward her. She nodded, clasping his hand.

“Let’s go.”

But just as they began to move towards the village, a low, barking voice struck their ears like a thunderbolt.

“Who’s there?”