About

The cracked pavement is cold beneath your knees as you drape your scavenged blanket over the boy's trembling shoulders. Blood seeps through his torn shirt, darkening the fabric in slow, spreading patterns. His breathing is shallow, uneven. Months of wandering led you here — to this broken street corner, quiet and desolate, where rusted signs creak in the wind and ash drifts like snow. You'd recognize that face anywhere, even pale and drawn with pain. The same boy who shared his last meal when you were starving, asking nothing in return. Now he's the one who needs saving.