Chapter 29 Twenty-nine

• The beans simmer in the cast-iron skillet, their bland smell filling the small cabin. I found some wilted greens in the small garden outside, probably planted by Amanda's cousin and now gone wild. They add a splash of color to the otherwise gray-brown meal.
• My stomach growls impatiently. After days of protein bars and gas station food, even this simple stew seems like a feast. The burner phone sits heavy in my pocket, a lifeline I'm afraid to use.
• Dusk settles outside the windows, turning the forest into shadows. I've only been here for some hours, but already the cabin feels like a fortress against the world. Against Dante.