Ember walked through the forest for almost an hour.

  Her legs hurt, the heavy backpack pulled on her shoulders, and cold air was burning her naked body.

  But she kept moving. Every few steps she stopped, listened, and checked the trees. The morning was quiet, too quiet, and that made her nerves tight like a wire. A sudden rustle made her freeze.

  Ember held her breath. Her hand slowly moved to the backpack strap.

  From behind a tree, a dog stepped out.

  It was thin, dirty, its fur tangled with leaves. One ear stood straight, the other bent. The dog kept its head low and showed its teeth. Its body moved slowly left and right, watching her.

  Ember didn’t move.

  The dog growled, low and slow, and took a step toward her.

  Ember nervously licked her lips. Her heart beat hard, but she did not run. She pulled the backpack off her shoulders and held it like a shield.

  The dog growled again. It lowered its head. Its tail stood straight.

  Ember bared her teeth and growled back — short and sharp. Her voice broke the cold air.

  The dog froze. It watched her.

  Ember took one step forward.

  The dog growled louder and also moved one step. Dry grass cracked under its paws.

  Ember growled again — longer this time, deeper in her throat. Her whole body shook from the tension. She raised the backpack higher and swung it a little, showing she was ready.

  The dog stopped again. Its ears twitched. It growled once more, but the sound was unsure now.

  Ember took another slow step forward.

  The dog’s tail lowered. Its body pulled back just a little.

  Ember made a loud, angry sound — almost a shout, almost a roar — and stomped her foot.

  The dog jerked back. It made one last weak growl, turned sharply, and ran into the trees. Branches shook as it fled.

  Ember let out a shaky breath, then laughed softly. For a moment she didn’t move at all.

  Then everything hit her at once — her shaking legs, her loud breathing, the hot pulse in her neck and ears. She felt light-headed, almost dizzy from the rush.

  She bent forward slightly, laughing under her breath — not from humor, but from the wild, sharp energy still inside her.

  “Ha… not so easy, ah?” she whispered, voice trembling.

  She lifted the backpack. Her arms shook, but she smiled, wide and breathless. A long, shaky exhale escaped her as she put the straps back on. Then Ember straightened, wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and continued toward the town — faster now, her steps strong and alive, as if the fear had turned into fire inside her.

  Ember walked faster as the sky grew brighter.

  She knew these fields, these broken fences, these pieces of old road. Every step felt easier now, even though her throat was dry and burning. She could almost taste water. She could almost feel a roof over her head.

  She pushed herself harder. Her legs hurt, her lips were cracked, but she kept going.

  And then she saw it.

  The gate.

  Home.

  Her heart jumped.

  A smile spread across her dirty face.

  She almost ran the last few meters.

  “Hey! Stop right there!” a voice shouted from the wall.

  Ember raised her hands at once. “It’s me! Ember! I’m back!”

  The guards looked down from above. They stared at her.

  “Name?” one of them called.

  “Ember! I went out looking for herbs for the doctor! Two days ago!”

  The guards whispered to each other.

  She could not hear the words, but their voices sounded unsure.

  “Step closer!” another guard ordered.

  Ember took a few steps forward, still smiling, still breathing fast from excitement.

  The guards tensed.

  She heard metal click.

  Two rifles pointed straight at her.

  Her smile died.

  “Stop! Don’t move!”

  Ember froze, hands still in the air.

  “What are you doing? It’s me!”

  “You don’t look like Ember,” one guard said.

  “You look like… like something that crawled out of a grave.”

  “I was robbed! I lost everything! Please, I just need to get inside!”

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  The guards looked again — at her dirty skin, at the dried blood on her hands and legs, at the torn boots and wild hair. One of them shook his head.

  “We can’t let you in like this. You stink like a walker. What if you’re infected?”

  “I’m not infected!” Ember shouted. Her voice cracked. “Please! I’m fine! I just need water!”

  “Hold on. We need the doctor to check you,” the guard said. “But he’s asleep. It’s too early.”

  Ember stared at them, her chest rising fast, shock and anger mixing inside her.

  “You’re not serious,” she whispered.

  But the rifles didn’t lower. The guards didn’t move.

  “You wait right there,” the older guard said. “No one goes through the gate until the doctor says you’re clean.”

  Ember pressed her lips together. The hope that carried her all morning now felt heavy, sinking in her stomach. She stood still in the growing light, shaking from cold, exhaustion… and insult.

  “Then call Zed, please,” Ember said, her voice rough, exhausted.

  The guard raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna dance for us later, right?”

  “I’ll dance,” she said quickly, desperation clear in her tone. “Free. Just… please call him.”

  One of the guards nodded and disappeared toward Zed’s quarters. Ember sank onto the grass, too drained to stand, her bare skin chilled by the night air.

  The remaining guard whistled softly. “Well, look at you. Quite a sight.”

  “Had some… problems,” Ember muttered, swallowing back her exhaustion.

  A splash of water hit her face. Zed appeared, grinning, a bottle in his hand. He threw it toward her, eyes sharp and questioning.

  Ember blinked, then nodded and drank greedily, the cold liquid sliding down her throat, reviving her more than she expected.

  Zed rubbed his hands together, clearly pleased, and said, “Good. I’m heading for the doctor now.”

  The guard frowned. “Careful. The doc’s not gonna like this.” Zed waved a hand dismissively. “He’ll manage. Don’t worry.” And then he was gone. The guard shook his head. “What got into that old man, huh? You live with him or something?”

  Ember let out a laugh, raw and tired, the first genuine sound in hours. “Something like that,” she said. “I’ll dance for him too.”

  Ember’s eyes lit up when she saw Zed arrive with the doctor, carrying a bucket of water and a rough sponge. Relief washed over her. Finally, she could get clean, finally wash off the sweat, blood, and the stench of the ruins.

  “Right here,” the doctor said firmly, setting the bucket down. “First thing, wash yourself. All of it.”

  Ember grinned, almost laughing with excitement. “Yes, please,” she said. She crouched by the bucket, eager to feel water over her skin again.

  The cold water hit her shoulders, making her shiver, but she loved it. It was sharp, refreshing, and alive. She scrubbed, feeling the grime and stench loosen and slide off her skin. For the first time in hours, she felt… herself.

  One of the guards stepped forward. “Need a hand with your back?” he asked, trying to be helpful.

  Ember handed him the sponge with a bright smile. “Sure, why not. But careful,” she said, her tone playful.

  He started washing her shoulders and back.

  Ember closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, letting the water wash over her like a wave of freedom. But when his hands slid too low, toward her lower back, she snapped, laughing: “Don’t touch the merchandise!”

  The guard jumped back, hands raised.

  Ember laughed out loud.

  The others chuckled quietly.

  She felt lighter, freer, alive again. “This is amazing,” she said, leaning into the sponge. “I’ve never felt so clean. My skin, my hair… I could live like this forever.”

  Zed chuckled. “Pump’s fixed. Water’s back. Plenty of it now. Lucky for you.”

  “Lucky? Blessed,” Ember corrected, her voice full of joy as she splashed more water over her hair and arms. The cold made her cheeks pink, her bare skin sparkling in the firelight. She felt sharp, alert, and beautiful.

  “You’re glowing,” Zed said with a grin.

  Ember smirked. “Told you. Even a day in the dirt can’t keep me down.”

  The guards laughed softly.

  Ember stood, muscles still aching but skin clean and fresh. Relief and adrenaline coursed through her. She had survived. She had washed away the stench of the chaos. For the first time in hours, she felt… alive.

  ***

  The doctor stepped closer, small bucket in hand, his eyes scanning Ember carefully.

  “All right,” he said. “Now that you’re clean, let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Ember nodded, still grinning from the refreshing wash. She felt lighter, sharper, more herself.

  The doctor began a thorough examination. His hands moved over her shoulders and arms first, checking for bruises and cuts.

  “Lots of scrapes here, and these bruises…” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He dipped a small cloth in the bucket and dabbed at a few raw spots. “You’ll need this herbal wash,” he added, handing her a cup of warm, greenish liquid. “It’ll help with the swelling.”

  Ember drank it quickly, feeling the herbal warmth spread through her chest. She shivered again—not from cold, but from relief.

  The doctor moved down her back, palpating carefully. Ember closed her eyes, letting him work. The guard who had helped her wash laughed quietly from the side.

  “Everything okay back there?” Ember asked, smirking over her shoulder.

  “Don’t worry,” the guard said. “I’m strictly professional.”

  Ember rolled her eyes, then leaned forward slightly as the doctor checked her legs and thighs. He pressed gently on bruised spots, feeling for deeper injuries.

  “You’ve been through a lot,” he said, finally standing back. “But no signs of infection, no signs of contamination. You’re clean—physically, anyway.”

  Relief flooded Ember. She exhaled, a long, shaky breath. Her body relaxed in a way it hadn’t since the ruins. Adrenaline still hummed in her veins, but now it mixed with triumph. She was alive, uninfected, and still sharp.

  “Good,” Zed said, stepping closer with a smile. “No contamination. You’re cleared.”

  The guards nodded, and Ember felt the weight of the day lift. The stench, the exhaustion, the fear—they all seemed distant now. Her bare skin glowed in the firelight, clean, vibrant, alive.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice low but steady. “I feel… incredible.”

  Zed clapped his hands together, the familiar gesture full of pride and relief. “Now that’s my Ember. Clean, tough, and ready for anything.”

  Ember laughed, a real laugh this time, bright and full of life. She felt her muscles relax and her mind clear. For the first time in a long stretch of terror and chaos, she could breathe. She was alive, she was clean, and she was back.

  Ember nodded, and they stepped out together. The settlement was quiet in the early morning light. A few familiar faces lifted their heads to greet her. Some nodded respectfully. Others, mostly women, gave her narrow-eyed looks, their expressions sharp and judgmental. Ember met each gaze evenly, her cloak hiding most of the grime and scars.

  They reached Zed’s storeroom. Ember pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  “Here,” she said, handing him the backpack.

  Zed took it and quickly unzipped the top. He pulled out the metal box, holding it up like a prize. A wide grin spread across his face.

  “Got it back, huh?” he said, chuckling.

  Ember began to list off the things she’d lost. “Knife… jumpsuit… firestarter…”

  Zed’s smile faltered, replaced with a frown. He shook his head, his brows knitting together.

  “Well,” he said, his voice low but firm, “looks like your advance will have to be… trimmed a bit.”

  He placed a small box on the table. Ember’s eyes widened as she saw the contents: a pack of 9mm rounds, fifty cartridges neatly stacked.

  “All of this… for me?” she breathed, disbelief mixing with excitement.

  “Just the advance,” Zed said, his grin returning.

  Ember’s laughter spilled out, pure and bright. She grabbed the old man in a tight hug, spinning slightly from sheer delight.

  “Zed! This… this is amazing! I can last a month on this!”

  “Remember,” he said, pulling back slightly, “this is only the advance.”

  Ember laughed again, shaking her head. “Only the advance? You’re spoiling me, old man!”