Chapter 12 - Escape

What's this? 

Sol's mind spiraled as he just opened his eyes.

The unfamiliar wooden ceiling above him and the soft, cozy feeling beneath his body threw him off immediately. It didn't take long for him to realize—this was definitely not Zenora. A sudden panic gripped him. 

Where am I?

He tried to push himself up, when the door to the room creaked open.

"Oh! You're finally awake," a voice called out.

The man who entered wore a small warm smile. His demeanor seemed relaxed, casual even, as he stepped forward. The tension in the air hung thick, but he made no fuss about Sol's sudden awakening, simply taking a step closer.

"Who-who are you? Don't take another step!" Sol's voice rang with authority, his body moving instinctively.

He quickly jumped back, bracing himself to escape. His eyes scanned the man in front of him—unfamiliar, yet strangely calm. Despite the stranger's friendly approach, Sol's instincts screamed danger.

The boy had lived long enough in Zenora to know better than to trust appearances. He might have been terrified of Grak, but never once did he shy away from a fight with the other scavengers. His instincts were sharp, and if escape wasn't possible, he always fought back—unless no other option remained.

The man stopped in his tracks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Sol's defiance seemed to amuse him.

"Easy there, kid. I'm not going to hurt you. Why don't we just—"

"Oh really? Then why are you carrying a knife?" Sol interrupted, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He made no attempt to lower his guard.

Who is this dull-haired man? Sol's thoughts raced. 

He's not with Grak, that's for sure. I'm definitely on the ship....then he's from the ship. Did they bring me here? But why? ...If they wanted to kill me, they could've done it on the shore. What do they want? 

Sol's uncertainty gnawed at him, but he knew one thing—he couldn't afford to show weakness.

For a brief moment, the man was taken aback by Sol's sharpness. No words came to him at first. He blinked, then scratched the back of his head, offering a sheepish smile as he hastily tucked the knife behind his back.

"Oh, this?" He chuckled awkwardly. "It's just for decoration, you know. Nothing to worry about."

"Don't act smart." Sol's voice hardened, his gaze locking with the man's. "Stay where you are or I'll decorate you with it."

The man raised his hands in mock surrender, though he couldn't help but stifle a chuckle. 

This kid...

Sol's boldness was impressive, especially for someone who had just woken up in an unfamiliar place. He was clearly strong-willed, even if the situation wasn't in his favor.

But something wasn't right.

Sol's head throbbed painfully, and for a brief moment, his vision swam. What do I do? The man in front of him didn't seem dangerous at the moment, but Sol knew better than to trust his instincts blindly. His body screamed at him to fight back, but his head—his head was holding him back, clouding his thoughts.

The man noticed the slight waver in Sol's stance, the way his hand instinctively reached for his temple. He could tell the boy was in pain, and despite his amusement, the man realized now wasn't the time to toy with him.

He could've kept pressing Sol, testing the boy's limits just for the entertainment of it all. But seeing the state Sol was in, he decided to let it go, at least for now.

"Well, suit yourself," he said with a shrug, turning to leave. "Get some rest, kid. We'll talk later."

He turned his back on Sol and began walking toward the door, the floorboards creaking softly under his boots. As his hand reached for the handle, Sol's eyes sharpened.

This is it. This is my chance.

The second the door creaked open, Sol's body sprang into action. He bent low, tensing his legs, then bolted forward in a dash. The wooden floor beneath him creaked loudly as he raced past the man, slipping through the narrow gap of the door and darting out of the cabin.

For a brief, exhilarating moment, Sol thought he had escaped. His feet hit the deck, the open air filling his lungs as he scanned his surroundings, ready to make a break for freedom.

But just as quickly as he had escaped, he felt a powerful hand.

"Not so fast," the man's voice came from behind, his grip unyielding. Sol struggled, but it was no use. The man's strength was far greater than his.

As Sol fought to free himself, his heart pounded in his chest. No, no, I was so close! He tried again to wrench free, but the man's grip was firm. The boy gritted his teeth in frustration.

Just then, movement at the far end of the ship caught his attention. 

Sol's breath caught in his throat as he saw them—two figures, walking straight toward him. He instantly recognized them as the same two people who had fought Grak.