Shadows and First Blood
Travis parked on the side, guitar resting in his lap.
“Look at that,” he said, eyes scanning the swirling water. “The world doesn’t care who we are. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful doesn’t kill hunters,” I muttered. But I leaned over anyway, letting the wind whip my hair. The river roared beneath us, a reminder that life continued whether we survived or not.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said, strumming a soft chord that trembled like the fog. “Sometimes, you just… let the music happen.”
Bab Populer