Chapter Text
The trees seem more beautiful than before, or at least, that’s what Mom says. JiJi believes her without question, as she has no other reference but the word of the woman who gave her life. Her mother has always been so wise, so strong… She looks at her with the admiration reserved for those who seem to know all the secrets of the old world.
JiJi has never been a fan of her nickname. Not because she thinks it’s ugly, but because her older brother, Ethan, says it in a teasing tone that irritates her. Sometimes he stretches it out or sings it like a silly song, which drives her crazy. He doesn’t do it all the time, since their father tells him to stop bothering her, but there are still moments when Ethan just can’t resist.
Despite those small annoyances, JiJi loves her life. Although… sometimes she wonders what it would be like if her family weren’t always right on her heels. It’s not that she doesn’t love them (she adores them) but she can’t help but crave a little more independence. She wants to be a hunter like her mother and her Uncle Jake, to feel the wind on her face and the ground tremble beneath her feet as she follows the trail of her prey. She wants to explore beyond the settlement, beyond her small world.
Today is an exploration day, and she’s lucky to be going, but before leaving, there’s one thing she must do: say goodbye to her family.
Her father is the first to catch her in a strong, warm hug, as if he won’t see her for a long time. JiJi thinks he’s exaggerating, she’s not going anywhere dangerous, but she lets him be. After all, her father has always been affectionate by nature.
"Promise me you’ll be careful," he says, with the seriousness of someone fearing for her life.
JiJi rolls her eyes but smiles "I promise."
"And listen to everything your mom says."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Dad," she replies playfully.
Her father blesses her by pressing his forehead against hers. They stay like that for a second, and when they pull away, he makes her promise again to be careful.
Then she approaches the crib where her younger siblings, the twins Jordan and Joanna, are sleeping. Jordan yawns and stretches sleepily when she picks him up, but he lets her hold him without complaint. His round, drowsy little face makes her smile, and she plants a kiss on his forehead before setting him back down in the crib.
Joanna, on the other hand…
The moment JiJi picks her up, she feels a small but fierce bite on her arm.
"Oh, Joanna," JiJi sighs, trying not to burst into laughter. Her father tries to calm the little rebel, but she doesn’t let go until JiJi gently strokes her head.
"Someday, sister, you’ll learn that biting isn’t the answer," she murmurs affectionately.
She says goodbye next to Joshua, who is completely focused on building a bow. When JiJi hugs him, he squirms as if he were on fire.
"Enough, Sis, stop it," he complains, pushing her away gently.
JiJi just smiles. She knows that one day, he’ll grow out of his grumpy preteen phase, and when he does, she’ll be there to remind him how unbearable he used to be.
On her way to the exit, she runs into her uncles and aunt. She gives them quick hugs since she’s in a hurry, but they wish her luck, and she appreciates it. Every word of encouragement feels like a small protective shield for the journey ahead.
Finally, she spots her mother and Ethan. They are deep in a serious conversation, their faces focused. JiJi can’t help the excitement that ignites in her chest, that tickle of anticipation she always gets before heading out.
"Let’s go, Mom!" she says, approaching enthusiastically.
Her mother looks at her with a half-smile. "Are you ready, sweetheart? Did you say your goodbyes?"
JiJi nods eagerly.
"Good, then let’s go. I don’t want nightfall to catch us on the way," her mother declares. Then she turns to Ethan. "Take care of your siblings and keep an eye on your father, okay, honey?"
Ethan nods with the obedience of an eldest son who understands the weight of his role. "Yes, Mother." Then he looks at JiJi. "Goodbye, take care."
She returns his smile, and they bump fists in their usual farewell.
And so, with her heart pounding in her chest, JiJi follows her mother toward adventure, leaving behind the safety of home… if only for a little while.
JiJi watched with curiosity as her mother removed the mask she always wore whenever they left home. It was an almost ritualistic gesture, as if by doing so, she allowed herself a brief respite from the constant tension of the road. They had stopped to rest for a few minutes before continuing their journey. JiJi took advantage of the pause to look around in fascination, taking in every detail of the landscape.
The wind carried the fresh scent of vegetation. Beside her, a cluster of purple and pink flowers swayed gently, the same kind she and her aunt used to make flower crowns. JiJi smiled and leaned in to brush her fingertips against the petals, enjoying their silky texture.
Beyond that, the lake shimmered with deep blue reflections, like a piece of the sky trapped on earth. Its surface was so clear and inviting that she felt an irresistible urge to dunk her head in the water, just to see what it would feel like to be enveloped in that endless blue. But she knew her mother well. Even though she was usually more flexible than her father, she never let JiJi get too close to those lakes. JiJi never asked why, maybe, deep down, she shared the same fear as her father, that the water was contaminated.
With a sigh, JiJi sat on the grass and nibbled on her food, lost in thought.
"Mom," she called with her mouth half-full.
Her mother, who was cleaning her bow with automatic movements, made a soft sound in her throat to signal she was listening.
JiJi hesitated for a second but eventually asked, "What did you do before the Collapse?"
Her mother let out a soft laugh without taking her eyes off the bow. "You’re so curious, kid," she replied with amusement. This wasn’t the first time JiJi had asked about the past. Her daughter was always digging into what came before, as if searching for pieces of a puzzle she had never been given. "I’ve told you before. Before all of this, your father was very badly behaved, so my job was to scold him."
JiJi rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Ugh, Mom! I’m not a little kid anymore. I know you and Dad hated each other, you don’t have to say it like that, Uncle Jake told me."
Her mother finally lifted her gaze, raising an eyebrow with a half-smile.
"Oh, really? And what else did your dear Uncle Jake tell you?"
"Just that you were always fighting," JiJi shrugged, "but it’s hard to imagine… I mean, not real hate. You two can’t even stay apart now."
She grimaced at the memory of the countless times she had witnessed her parents kissing for way too long or saying ridiculously sappy things to each other. No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, she always ended up being an unwilling witness to their overly affectionate displays.
Her mother let out a low chuckle and shook her head. "A lot had to happen for us to get here, it didn’t happen overnight."
For a moment, her tone grew more serious. JiJi noticed a shadow of something in her eyes, something she couldn’t quite decipher. Before she could press further, her mother stood up and dusted off her clothes.
"Alright, enough talk. We need to keep moving."
JiJi sighed, picked up her backpack, and hurried after her. She knew there were many things her mother wouldn’t tell her, at least, not yet. Ethan, her older brother, seemed to know everything, but he never told her anything. Joshua, on the other hand, had no interest in digging into the past, and her newborn siblings were completely out of the equation.
Still, JiJi wasn’t going to stop asking.
Someday, one way or another, she would get all the answers.
When they returned home, the first to greet them was Uncle John. He approached with his firm stride and a warm smile, greeting his sister-in-law face to face, as was customary between them. Then, he turned to JiJi and ruffled her hair with a large, calloused hand.
"Welcome back, little explorer."
JiJi groaned at the nickname, she hated being treated like a child. She was sixteen now, only a few years younger than Ethan. She was so exhausted that all she wanted was to collapse onto her cot with fur blankets and disappear into sleep. But she knew she couldn’t just yet.
Dinner was sacred in the community.
It didn’t matter how tired someone was, how exhausting the day had been, or what tasks remained unfinished, when night fell, the whole family gathered around the fire to share a meal and talk. It was one of the few traditions they never broke.
She took her usual seat, feeling the comforting warmth of the fire against her face. Her father stood before anyone could take a single bite. With a presence that always commanded respect, he raised his hands slightly and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Tonight, we give thanks for the food granted to us and for having lived another day," he said solemnly.
Some bowed their heads, moved by his words. Others looked at him with the same admiration as always. Sometimes, JiJi forgot that her father was special, not just to her and her siblings, but to everyone around them.
They held hands, as they did every night, and gave thanks for the peace they were allowed to live in once more.
When the prayer ended, dinner began. JiJi picked up her plate and got comfortable, glancing around as she ate.
Her father was trying to feed Jordan with a homemade puree, but the baby was not cooperating. Every time her father tried to bring the spoon to his lips, Jordan turned his face away with an expression of utter indignation, as if the very idea of eating was a personal insult.
JiJi laughed at the frustration on her father’s face and her younger brother’s exaggerated reactions.
In contrast, her baby sister devoured her food with enthusiasm, barely giving Aunt Faith a moment to breathe between spoonfuls.
Ethan, sitting beside her, ate quietly as always. Joshua, on the other hand, was animatedly chatting with Uncle John, gesturing wildly as he told a story, one JiJi was sure he was exaggerating.
Then, JiJi noticed her mother.
She was sitting across the table, leaning over a small map with Uncle Jake. JiJi couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their expressions were serious. Her mother pointed at a spot on the paper, and Jake nodded, scribbling something in the margins.
JiJi frowned.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen her mother and Uncle Jake whispering over maps and plans, but no one ever explained anything to her. She only knew that when this happened, something important was going on.
She took another bite of her food, but her mind was elsewhere.
Jiji walked slowly through a vast and beautiful field, where the lush green grass swayed with the gentle breeze that carried the fresh scent of nature. She smiled as she felt the leaves brushing against her bare legs while she moved forward, enjoying the warmth of the sun filtering through a clear sky. Around her, the landscape unfolded with untouched beauty: majestic mountains in the distance, sturdy trees whose branches reached toward the heavens like outstretched arms, and a horizon that seemed to stretch endlessly, untouched by the collapse that had ravaged the world.
If she had a pencil and paper at hand, she wouldn’t hesitate to immortalize that image. There was something almost ethereal about this place, as if it existed in a bubble outside of time, a corner where disaster had never arrived.
As she continued walking, she noticed something new among the greenery: flowers she had never seen before. They weren’t the usual purple or pink blossoms that typically grew in the area; these were as white as snow, with large, open petals that seemed to absorb the light. She crouched down to touch them, sliding them between her fingers with instinctive delicacy. They were soft, almost silky, filling her with a sense of tranquility.
She could spend hours there, simply contemplating that lost paradise, allowing herself to forget the reality of the world. She wondered, with a hint of nostalgia, if Hope County had once been like this before the collapse, prosperous, pure, full of life.
But before she could even lie down in the grass, a sudden change pulled her out of her reverie. A cold wind blew through the field, and the once-clear sky turned an ominous gray. Rain began to fall, first in scattered droplets, then in a furious downpour. The storm arrived with unexpected ferocity, the roar of thunder echoing around her as she searched desperately for shelter.
She spun around, looking for a tree or some kind of cover, but she had no time to react. A blinding flash illuminated the sky, and in an instant, a bolt of lightning struck with relentless force.
The impact coursed through her like an invisible current, yet against all logic, she felt no pain. There was no burning, no seared flesh, only an energy that surged through every inch of her body like a torrent of pure electricity. Her vision blurred with flashes of gray and black, and then came the voices.
Screams. Whispers. Pleadings, interwoven in an endless echo.
She recognized some of them immediately. Her mother’s voice, her father’s. But their words were unintelligible, fragmented, as if dissolving into the air before they could reach her ears. Her chest tightened under the overwhelming sensation of being trapped in a space where time and reality were unraveling.
What were they trying to tell her? What was happening to her?
And then, suddenly, she woke up.
Her breathing was steady, but her mind was clouded with confusion. She blinked several times, trying to orient herself. The familiar surroundings of her small room came into focus: the thin mattress she slept on, the soft shadows cast by the moon through a battered window. The night air was cold, and without thinking, she pulled a fur blanket around herself to ward off the chill running down her spine.
She didn’t want to go back to sleep. Not after such a strange, vivid dream.
Moving quietly, she walked toward the main room, driven by the need to talk to her parents. Maybe if she told them, they could help her understand. Or maybe she just wanted to feel their presence—a reminder that she was awake, that she was here.
When she arrived, she was surprised to see that they were still awake.
Her father stood, holding Jordan in his arms, the baby sleeping peacefully against his chest. She heard him humming a soft melody, barely audible, a lullaby that seemed to soothe not only the child but himself as well. Her mother, seated near the oil lamp, was fully focused on a map, her eyes scanning it with meticulous care while she cradled Joanna, also asleep, in her lap.
Jiji froze in place.
Suddenly, she hesitated.
She didn’t want to disturb them. They both had a community to manage, responsibilities that weighed heavily on their shoulders. Her father, always the communicator, the pacifist who sought solutions through words rather than weapons. Her mother, the lead hunter, the one who ensured everyone had food on the table. They were a formidable team, and Jiji couldn’t help but admire them for it.
Compared to all that, her nightmare felt insignificant.
“What are you doing awake, my love?” Her mother’s voice abruptly pulled her from her thoughts.
Jiji felt a pang of embarrassment. She had been standing there in silence, watching them like a shadow in the dim light.
Her father, who had his back turned to her, turned around upon hearing the question. His gaze softened when he saw her.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked gently.
Jiji nodded slowly, unsure of what else to say.
“It was just a nightmare…” she murmured, as if saying it aloud would make the weight in her chest lessen.
She stepped closer to her father, who had already freed one arm and extended it in an open gesture, inviting her into his embrace. She didn’t hesitate to accept, curling up against his side, feeling the protective warmth of his hold. From there, she could see her brother Jordan, deeply asleep, his breathing slow and steady.
“I heard you and mom,” she continued in a low voice. “But I couldn’t understand. And then… I think I got struck by lightning.”
Her father kept humming softly, not interrupting, not making any rushed comments or dismissing her words. His simple presence was enough to calm her anxiety. It was her mother who finally broke the silence.
“Have you had these nightmares before?” she asked, her tone calm, though Jiji noticed a hint of genuine interest in her voice.
“No. It’s the first time,” Jiji admitted. “I was in a meadow, and there were white flowers… I’ve never seen them before.”
That detail seemed to catch both their attention. Her mother tilted her head slightly, and though she tried to keep her expression neutral, Jiji noticed the brief exchange of glances between her parents. Her father, who had remained calm until now, subtly tensed. He wasn’t holding her tighter, but she felt it in the way his arm stiffened just a little.
“White flowers, you said?” her mother repeated, her tone too casual to be natural.
Jiji frowned “Yes… they were big, with long petals. I’ve never seen them before. Why?”
Her mother didn’t answer right away, but her father spoke before she could press further.
“That’s… interesting.”
Her mother tilted her head slightly, watching Jiji with a contemplative look and something else, something Jiji couldn’t quite place.
“What else did you see?” her father asked.
Jiji tried to recall the details precisely.
“Not much,” she admitted. “It was short, but strange. I didn’t feel pain when the lightning hit me… I just heard voices. Familiar voices. But I couldn’t understand what they were saying.”
Her father shifted his gaze from Jordan to her.
That simple act sent a chill down her spine.
Jiji couldn’t remember the last time she had seen that expression on his face—completely serious, with an intensity that made her shiver. Her father was the peacemaker, the man of soft words and open hands. He never raised his voice, never made threatening gestures. And yet, in that moment, his gaze terrified her more than anything.
“I see…” was all he said.
Two words, but spoken with a weight that unsettled her even more.
Her mother, still cradling Joanna in her arms, stood up gently.
“You must be exhausted after today’s scouting,” she said softly, almost whispering so as not to wake the babies. “Don’t worry about those nightmares, alright? No one will hurt you.”
Jiji nodded, but she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“You know your father and I will always be here to protect you,” her mother added, with a certainty that usually reassured her.
And in part, it did.
Jiji knew she wasn’t in danger, not with her parents by her side. She had never imagined a life without them. Even though she longed for independence, the thought of being apart from them was unthinkable. Her family was her refuge, her entire world. Everything she knew beyond th
e limits of their community.
But that night, for some reason, the fear still lingered in her chest.
Something inside her whispered that this nightmare wasn’t just a bad dream.