The scene rippled and distorted, dragging Summer into a new vision. She found herself in a remote alley deep within the city. The narrow space was lit by the faint light of the sun, casting eerie shadows along the graffiti-covered walls. The air was thick with the stench of garbage and damp concrete.
Summer's breath quickened as she spotted May, Ping, and Oliver huddled together, hidden among a cluster of discarded crates and trash bins. They looked tense but resolute.
"The plan to split was decent, if I don't say so myself," Ping attempted to joke, though his voice betrayed his unease.
"Shut up, dumbass," May hissed, her voice sharp.
"We need to regroup with the others when it's safe. For now, we lay low and hide."
Oliver, barely a middle-school-aged boy, clung tightly to May's hand, his small frame trembling. He looked up at her, fear evident in his wide eyes.
"Okay, I hear you," Ping responded, his usual bravado faltering.