Page 132 of The Darkest Hour

Emerald, green leaves glistened with droplets of water.

Small fragile flowers bloomed on the forest floor as if they’d just needed that douse of rain to come forth. Their petals were shades of pink, purple, and yellow, and their stems were thin and graceful.

I walked beside Havoc. My bra and panties clung to my damp skin, still drying from our quick wash in the stream.

Due to Havoc and his ravenous sexual appetite we had been covered in mud.

But now we were clean and ready for our mission.

We’ll find answers in the North of this island. I know we will.

Havoc walked ahead slightly. Earlier, his pants had been soaked, but now there were patches where the sun had already begun to dry them. Small wrinkles formed in the material.

He had the yellow bag slung over his shoulder.

Every now and then, he’d stop, and that sharp nose would pick up on a hidden patch of wild strawberries growing amidst the foliage. He’d kneel down, carefully picking the small, red berries and placing them in the bag.

My hand rested on my gun.

He had given it back to me, and the cold metal was a strange comfort. Even though neither one of us had said it, this gun hadn’t been just a weapon.

It was a symbol of trust.

Once we started our walk, he had given it to me without hesitation, as if handing me a piece of his heart.

He knew I could protect us both, or at least that I would try. But more than that, I knew he had given it to me because he trusted me, truly and completely.

We were in this together.

Minutes later, Havoc’s nose led us to a cluster of mushrooms peeking out from beneath the underbrush. He paused, crouching down to examine them carefully.

“These are good.” He gently plucked the mushrooms from the moist earth, their caps a deep, earthy brown, with specks of white scattered across them. Then, he handed half the pile to me. “I don’t smell any poison.”

I ate one and relished in the meaty and savory taste. After only existing on berries and coconut water, I swore I’d bit into a steak. “Delicious.”

“You like them?” He bit into one.

“I love them.” I ate another. “And can I say I am grateful to be out here with you. It’s like I have my own bloodhound.”

“Ruff. Ruff.”

I chuckled.

Nibbling on one mushroom, he added the rest of the mushrooms to the yellow bag, alongside the strawberries.

A little further along, Havoc spotted a patch of herbs—mint, oregano, and a little bit of rosemary.

“Look at that.” He picked a few sprigs and gave them to me. “So much is growing near the stream.”

“That’s why all the ancient civilizations started by water. It’s not just because of the need for drinking water or transportation, although that was part of it.”

“Water is life.”

“It is.” I let the memories of old history lessons and random books wash over me. “The Nile in Egypt, the Tigris and Euphrates in Mesopotamia, the Indus River Valley. Rivers, streams, lakes—they create these fertile lands where everything can grow. Plants, herbs, food—it all springs up where there’s water.”

“The earth knows where it’s needed most and responds by giving everything that’s needed to survive.”

I glanced at him and grinned. “That was poetic.”

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