Outpost

Quinn stood outside the cabin, the chill of the morning air biting into his skin. The forest was eerily quiet, the usual chirping of birds replaced by a stillness that felt unnatural.

He raised his hands again, his focus narrowing to the faint tug in his chest. It wasn't instinctive yet, this shadow manipulation---was more like trying to flex a muscle he hadn't known existed. 

"Come on," he muttered, glaring at his hand like sheer frustration could will the shadows to appear.

Alexia emerged from the cabin; her machete strapped to her side and a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. She'd spent the better part of the morning repacking their supplies, putting some of her portion in the dimensional space when Quinn wasn't looking and had gone outside. 

"You're trying too hard," she said, leaning against the doorframe. 

Quinn shot her a look. "Oh, sorry, didn't realize you were the expert on shadow powers now."

"Just an observation," she said with a shrug. "You're all tension. Try.... relaxing or something."

"Relaxing?" he echoed, his tone incredulous. "You want me to relax while I figure out how not to accidentally kill you?"

She smirked faintly. "Yes. Relaxing might help with that."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. As much as he hated to admit it, she might have a point. The shadows seemed to respond to his emotions---anger, frustration, fear. If he could figure out how to control those, maybe he could control them too.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, letting the crisp air fill his lungs. He pictured the shadows in his mind, not as something foreign or dangerous, but as an extension of himself.

When he opened his eyes, the tendrils of darkness were curling around his finger, faint but steady. 

Alexia straightened, her gaze sharpening. "You did it."

"Barely," he muttered, but there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

He extended his hands willing the shadows to move. They slithered forward like living smoke, wrapping around the branch of a nearby tree. The moment his focus wavered, they dissipated, leaving the branch unscathed.

"Progress," Alexia said, pushing off the doorframe.

"Not good enough," he replied, but he couldn't hide the spark of determination in his eyes.

By the time they'd packed up and started moving again, Quinn seemed steadier, though the dark circles under his eyes hinted at how much his newfound powers had drained him.

"Do you feel different?" Alexia asked as they trudged through the forest.

Quinn gave her a sidelong glance. "You mean besides the part where I can conjure shadows out of thin air?"

"You know what I mean," she said, rolling her eyes. "Physically. Mentally. Do you feel like... yourself?"

Quinn hesitated, his gaze flicking to the ground. "Honestly? I don't know. It's like I'm me, but not. Like there's something else just under the surface."

Her system buzzed in her mind:

[Subject 'Quinn' displays stable synchronization with shadow abilities. No immediate threat detected.]

She exhaled quietly, relieved but still wary. 

"You don't seem like you're about to turn into one of the infected," she said.

"Comforting," he said dryly.

They walked in silence for a while, the forest growing denser around them. Alexia kept her eyes peeled for any signs of danger, her machete ready in her hand. The memory of the shadow in the cabin still lingered, but for now, Quinn seemed in control.

As they approached the edge of the forest, the distant hum of machinery caught her attention. She held up a hand, signaling Quinn to stop.

"You hear that?" she whispered.

Quinn nodded, his expression hardening. 

"Could be people," she said.

"Could be trouble," he countered.

She scanned their surroundings, her mind racing. They needed supplies, and if there were people nearby, it was worth checking out. But the risk was undeniable.

"Stay here," she said, starting forward.

"Not a chance," Quinn said, stepping beside her.

She sighed. "Fine. Just... keep the shadows in check, okay?"

He smirked faintly. "Relaxing, remember?"

The source of the noise turned out to be a small outpost, barely more than a few tents and a makeshift barricade. A group of armed survivors stood guard, their weapons trained on the forest as Alexia and Quinn approached. 

"Stay back!" one of them shouted, a wiry man with a rifle slung over his shoulder. 

"We're not infected," Alexia called, raising her hands.

The man's eye narrowed, but he didn't lower his weapon. "Prove it."

Alexia tilted her head. "If we were infected, we'd have ripped your throat out by now."

Quinn stifled a laugh, earning a glare from her.

"Charming," the man said, but he motioned for them to come closer.

As they stepped into the clearing, Quinn felt the shadows stir faintly beneath his skin. He clenched his fists, willing them to stay dormant. The last thing they needed was to scare off potential allies---or make enemies.

The outpost was a patchwork of survival, with scavenged supplies piled high and a fire burning in the center. The people here looked rough, their faces hardened by the apocalypse, but there was a glimmer of hope in their eyes. 

"Names?" the man demanded. 

"Alexia," she said smoothly. And this is Quinn." 

"Dom," the man replied. He gestured to the others. "Don't cause trouble, and we won't have any."

Alexia nodded, already scanning the camp for anything useful. 

Quinn stayed close, his gaze flicking to the shadows stretching along the ground. They were quiet now, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching, waiting.

He didn't know what he'd become, but one thing was clear: the world was only getting more dangerous, and whatever he was now might be the only thing that kept them alive.