By the third day, hunger stopped being a feeling.
It became a limit.
Lin Mo noticed it in the way his body moved—slower to react, heavier with each step. Even simple things like lifting his arm or adjusting his footing took more effort than they should have.
Food from the day before hadn't been enough.
Not for three people.
Not for what they were doing.
Behind him, Lin An'an had grown quieter.
That was worse than crying.
She no longer complained much, only occasionally tugging at his clothes or making soft sounds before resting again. Her energy was fading, little by little.
Shi Yue saw it too.
She didn't say anything at first.
But she stayed even closer than before.
Not just near him—
watching.
Paying attention.
Every small change.
"We need more," she said eventually.
Lin Mo nodded.
"I know."
This time, they didn't wait until it got worse.
They stopped early.
—
The forest around them had changed again.
The ground was rougher, scattered with stones and broken branches. The trees grew taller here, their canopies blocking most of the light. It made everything feel dim, even during the day.
Harder to see.
Harder to notice movement.
But Lin Mo forced himself to look.
Not casually.
Carefully.
He crouched near the ground, scanning for anything—tracks, disturbances, patterns.
At first, nothing.
Then—
something small.
A set of faint marks in the dirt.
Irregular.
Not clean.
But recent.
He touched the ground lightly.
Still soft.
"…Something passed through here," he said.
Shi Yue stepped closer, shifting Lin An'an slightly in her arms.
"…Can you follow it?"
Lin Mo hesitated.
"…Not well."
But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
He stood, adjusting his grip on the branch.
"…Stay close."
—
Tracking was harder than he expected.
The marks disappeared and reappeared, sometimes clear, sometimes completely gone. More than once, he had to stop and circle back, trying to pick up the trail again.
But he didn't rush.
Didn't guess.
Every step was deliberate.
And slowly—
it worked.
The trail led toward a cluster of low trees and dense brush.
Lin Mo slowed.
Something was there.
He could feel it.
Not the same strange awareness from before—
just instinct.
He signaled Shi Yue to stop.
She did immediately.
Carefully lowering Lin An'an, keeping her close and quiet.
Lin Mo stepped forward alone.
One step.
Then another.
The brush shifted slightly.
There.
A larger animal this time.
Not dangerous—but stronger, faster than the last one.
Lin Mo tightened his grip.
This wouldn't be as simple.
He adjusted his stance, recalling the last time.
Not rushing.
Waiting.
Watching.
The animal moved, unaware.
Then—
Lin Mo acted.
He lunged forward, swinging the branch low.
The strike connected—
but not cleanly.
The animal shrieked, twisting away, trying to escape.
Too fast.
Lin Mo moved again, grabbing forward—
missed.
The animal darted.
Almost gone—
Lin Mo reacted instinctively, diving forward, tackling it with his body weight.
They hit the ground hard.
The animal struggled violently, kicking and twisting.
Lin Mo held on.
Not clean.
Not controlled.
Just force.
It scratched, kicked—
but he didn't let go.
After a few seconds—
it stilled.
—
Lin Mo didn't get up immediately.
His breathing was heavy.
His arms shook slightly.
But he didn't loosen his grip until he was sure.
Only then did he push himself up.
Shi Yue was already beside him.
"…Are you okay?" she asked.
Lin Mo nodded once. "…Yeah."
That wasn't entirely true.
But it was enough.
She didn't push further.
Instead, she looked at the animal.
"…This is better," she said quietly.
More food.
For longer.
Lin Mo gave a small nod.
"…Yeah."
—
This time, the process was faster.
Not because it was easier.
Because they had already done it once.
Lin Mo handled most of it.
Shi Yue helped without being told.
Passing things.
Holding steady.
Watching.
At some point, Lin Mo's hand slipped slightly while cutting.
A shallow cut.
Not deep.
But noticeable.
Shi Yue caught his wrist immediately.
"…Careful."
"I'm fine," he said.
She didn't let go right away.
Her grip was firm.
Not worried.
Just… certain.
"…Still," she said.
Then released him.
It was small.
But it stayed.
—
They ate more this time.
Not full.
But closer.
Lin An'an had more energy after, her small movements returning, her grip stronger when she held onto Shi Yue.
That alone made it worth it.
—
After resting for a while, Lin Mo sat down again.
The stone in his hand.
This time, there was no hesitation.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed.
Focused.
The feeling came faster now.
Not by chance.
Not by accident.
Because he knew where to look.
That faint presence—
that subtle awareness inside himself—
he found it quicker.
Held it longer.
It wasn't strong.
But it was steady.
Shi Yue sat beside him, doing the same.
Their breathing gradually aligned again.
Not perfectly.
But naturally.
The air around them felt quieter.
Not changing—
just… noticed differently.
Lin Mo stayed with it.
Longer than before.
A faint warmth spread through his body.
Not heat.
Not energy.
Just… something moving.
Then—
he lost it.
The feeling slipped again.
Gone.
He opened his eyes.
Exhaled.
"…Longer," he said.
Shi Yue nodded. "…A little."
Progress.
Small.
But real.
—
By the time evening came, they were exhausted again.
But this time—
it felt different.
Not weaker.
Just used.
Like something had been pushed further than before.
They made camp near a cluster of rocks, the area slightly more sheltered from wind.
Lin Mo started the fire.
Shi Yue stayed close, Lin An'an resting against her.
At some point, Lin An'an reached toward Lin Mo again.
He took her without thinking.
She settled instantly, her small hands gripping his clothes.
Shi Yue watched that.
Then leaned slightly closer.
Not deliberately.
Not consciously.
Just enough.
The fire crackled softly.
The forest remained quiet.
But not empty.
—
That night, as Lin Mo lay back slightly, the stone still in his hand, he didn't try to force anything.
Didn't chase the feeling.
But even then—
faintly—
he could sense it.
That small presence.
Still there.
Waiting.
Not distant anymore.
Just… not fully his yet.
He closed his eyes.
Not asleep.
But resting.
And beside him—
Shi Yue remained close.
Just like she always had been.
Only now—
there was something more between them.
Not new.
Just clearer.