The boy and Alaric finally broke into a light jog through the grass, feeling its warmth beneath their feet—though it was a warmth lost on anyone wearing thick shoes. They were heading toward a wooden boat tied at the edge of the shore. It wasn't far, just a few paces away. Yet for the two of them, it felt like crossing a vast chasm. Every step echoed in their ears like thunder. The tension in the air was so thick it could've been sensed even by the ants crawling along tree trunks.

Alaric loosened the rope securing the small rowboat. His hands moved quickly and efficiently, as if he had done this many times before under pressure. The wood creaked as the waves touched it, adding a faint, ominous noise to the already unsettling rhythm of footsteps coming from behind. The man hadn't noticed them yet, but he was getting closer with every second. The boy did what he could to help untangle the rope, trying to get the boat free.

But just then, only a few seconds later, a harsh voice rang out from behind them. The large man finally turned, his eyes blazing with rage the moment he saw the two of them almost aboard the boat.

"Hey! Stop right there!" he shouted.

The boy turned his head, his face pale. His breath caught in his throat. He knew they were seconds away from being caught. But Alaric didn't waste any time. He pushed the boy up into the boat first.

"Get in, quick," he hissed.

The boy obeyed, stumbling a bit but managing to climb aboard.

Alaric followed right after. Before jumping in, he glanced quickly at the man charging toward them. The gap between them was shrinking fast. The sandy ground rumbled beneath the man's heavy steps, a sign he would reach them in mere moments.

With full force, Alaric stepped onto the edge of the boat and leapt in. The boat rocked violently under his weight, nearly tipping the boy off balance. Alaric grabbed the oars and immediately began rowing away from the rickety dock. Water splashed in all directions with every pull, creating a rhythmic sound of urgency.

The man roared in frustration. He had just reached the shore, his hand nearly touching the boat's edge... but it was too late. Alaric had already pushed them far enough to open up a small but crucial distance. The water now stood between them, forming a thin, fluid barrier that slowed the pursuer's momentum.

The boy turned around, eyes wide with fear and awe. He saw the large man stomping along the shoreline, shouting furiously. The man's voice echoed faintly over the small waves, but it grew softer as the boat drifted farther from land.

Alaric didn't stop rowing. Every stroke was driven by the need to put as much distance as possible between them and the threat, before the man could find another way to reach them.

"Hold onto the boat tight," he said, trying to calm the boy.

Behind them, the outline of the lakeshore slowly shrank.

Alaric kept rowing, his strokes strong and steady, each one sending ripples trailing behind them. Sweat mixed with the mist on his temples, but he didn't ease up.

From time to time, he looked over his shoulder. There was no sign of the large man. Only the sound of the oars slicing through water and Alaric's increasingly labored breathing remained.

"I think… he's not following us," Alaric said. But doubt still lingered at the edge of his thoughts. Men like that rarely gave up so easily. He had to be somewhere nearby, waiting, or finding another way.

He glanced at the boy beside him. His fingers itched to find out what the boy had been hiding behind his back this whole time. The evidence he claimed could bring down an entire criminal network. But Alaric held back. "Not now. Focus first. Put distance between us, then talk." That was the voice in his head.

With the last of his strength, Alaric increased the pace. His arms and shoulders strained, each movement of the oar feeling like a final effort that had to be exact and powerful. He ignored the growing ache. Just half the lake left now. They were getting close.

Meanwhile, the boy sat quietly at the side of the boat. His eyes followed the clouds overhead. Every now and then he glanced around, watching the mist dance above the water. From the outside, he looked calm, as if enjoying a quiet nighttime journey. But Alaric knew better. He knew fear still lingered beneath the surface.

He respected that. The boy was smart enough not to let his fear break his focus, and not to distract Alaric either. The silence they shared was a shield, keeping them alert until it was safe.

Stroke by stroke, they edged closer to the far shore. The water broke softly beneath the boat, marking each bit of progress. Alaric's eyes narrowed, measuring the distance to the trees ahead. The tall trunks stood like silent sentinels waiting to receive them.

Finally, the boat bumped against the shore. The soft grind of wood on wet sand marked the end of their crossing. Alaric stabbed the oar into the ground, anchoring the boat from drifting. He stood and reached for the boy's hand, helping him out first.

As the boy's feet touched the ground, followed by Alaric's, both of them instinctively paused. There was something in the air. An invisible moment suspended between fear and decision.

They stood at the edge of a forest, taking in their surroundings. Alaric straightened up, scanning the area carefully. The boy looked down, then up at him again. In that brief exchange, they seemed to understand each other. The next steps they took would decide where this journey would lead.

Alaric walked slowly, guiding the boy across a narrow path covered in damp grass. But beneath the help he offered, his curiosity kept nagging. He had held it back long enough, but now it was almost unbearable. "I need to know... what is he hiding?"

As they walked, Alaric kept glancing around for a place to stop. There were no houses, no huts. Just stretches of quiet wilderness. Then he spotted something in the distance: a small structure with a rusted tin roof, half-concealed by the overgrown field. From afar, it looked like nothing more than a rest hut, a place farmers might sit to catch their breath.

"Let's go over there," Alaric said, gently tugging the boy's hand.

But as they drew closer, Alaric felt a change. The small hand in his grip began to tremble, then pull back. The boy resisted, refusing to go any further. Alaric quickly turned to look at him, catching the boy's lowered face, his lips pressed tight, his eyes flickering with unease. There was a clear trace of mistrust in his expression.

Alaric stopped. He knelt slightly to match the boy's eye level. Then, in a calm voice, he said, "It's okay. I'm not taking you somewhere dangerous." He didn't add any grand promises or persuasive speeches.

"I just want to rest for a bit. And I want to know about the thing you're carrying."

The boy slowly lifted his gaze. The doubt hadn't entirely vanished, but he could see honesty in Alaric's face.

"You… want to know what this is?" he asked softly, as if needing to confirm it one more time.

He then raised his hand and revealed the object he had been hiding all this time. A small rectangular item, wrapped tightly in black plastic, its edges worn and frayed.

Alaric nodded. "Yes," he said, eyes fixed on it. He could tell that inside that rough wrapping lay a secret powerful enough to make sense of all the chaos they had just escaped.

---

They finally stopped at the small rest hut, which blended almost perfectly into the surrounding brush and wild trees. The structure was half open, its rusted roof supported by crooked wooden beams that still stood firm. From a distance, it could've been mistaken for an abandoned shed, but right now, it offered a rare chance to breathe and gather their thoughts.

Alaric leaned back against one of the wooden posts. The boy sat not far from him, his knees pulled to his chest. He kept glancing back at the path they had come from, as if expecting the large man to appear at any moment.

Alaric reached for the small object the boy had given him. He held it in his palm and turned it slowly, studying its surface. The faint afternoon light reflected off it, revealing fine etchings that were nearly invisible at first glance. Alaric raised his eyebrows, intrigued, handling it with growing care.

He resisted the urge to open it. As strong as his curiosity was, a stronger instinct told him to understand the story behind it first. Then, with a calm but serious tone, he turned to the boy.

"Tell me," he said, locking eyes with him in a way that gently demanded the truth. "What is this, really?" He turned the object once more. "And how did you manage to take it from a man like that?"

The questions hung in the air. The boy froze for a moment. His fingers fidgeted, his lips moved slightly but no sound came. He looked like he was still weighing whether the man in front of him could truly be trusted.

Alaric didn't press further. His gaze, sharp but steady, wasn't meant to intimidate. It simply let the boy know that he needed a real answer.

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