After catching their breath, Jean sat up slowly. Her arms still trembled, but she didn't complain. Logan didn't say a word either. Without looking at each other, both reached for the paddles again.
This time, they didn't argue. No sarcastic remarks. No sharp jabs.
Only silence.
The raft gently rocked as they paddled in sync. Each stroke brought a dull burn in their muscles, but neither stopped. The silence between them wasn't peaceful, it was thick with everything unsaid tension between them.
The storm had passed, but the tension lingered like a bruise.
After what felt like hours, Jean lifted her head and squinted ahead. "Logan…" she said quietly.
He followed her gaze and there it was.
The land was closer now. Much closer. The trees were clearer, the shape of the mountain more defined. They were finally getting somewhere.
Without speaking, they picked up their pace.
They didn't need to say it.
Hope was within reach.
The raft scraped against something solid…sand.
