EIGHT

CAMILLE'S POV

My legs ached as I stumbled onto the road. I must have looked a sight. My hair, a dishevelled mop, tangled and stained with blood. Ash and dust clung to my battered body, while torn clothing and bloodied jeans adorned me as if I'd emerged from a battlefield. Tears streamed down my face as I weakly waved down a passing truck.

"Are you alright, miss?" the driver asked, concern evident in his tone as he pulled over the truck.

I wiped my tears away and gave a weak nod, trying my best to compose myself. "I am alright," I finally managed to croak, my voice filled with exhaustion. "I am alright now. What route are you going?"

The driver's brows furrowed as he took in my dishevelled appearance. "Are you sure you don't need help? Are you hurt?" he continued to probe. It was out of genuine worry. I could see it etched on his face. But what I needed was a ride and not a kind samaritan.

"I fell while hiking. I am better now."

"Where do you want to go?" He asked.

"Marblefay," I repli