Jude stood suddenly. The motion startled a few of them.
"I need to walk," he said. "I need to think."
No one tried to stop him.
He left the camp and entered the forest, not on a path but through the thick ferns and undergrowth, letting his body guide him. He needed distance. The trees towered above him, ancient and still. The sound of insects buzzed low, and occasionally, a branch cracked underfoot. The deeper he went, the colder the air felt, as though the island itself were reacting to his presence, watching.
After a long while, he reached a small clearing near the edge of the cliffs. From here, he could see the ocean, endless and gray, stretching beyond the shell's curve. He sat on a rock and stared out at it, breathing slowly.
He didn't hear the footsteps behind him until Emma sat beside him, her presence warm but quiet.
"I didn't follow you," she said. "I just ended up here."
Jude didn't look at her right away. "You've been different too."
"I know."
