"We have to drop the packs and run for the treeline!" Kael shouted over the roar. He was already unbuckling his harness, his face pale with the realization that their speed was now their only currency.

They reached the shelter of a cave just as the sun vanished. As they huddled over a tiny, flickering fire, Kael watched the old man massage his scarred hip. Kael realized then that "the strong" weren't those who were born without weakness, but those who had survived their own breaking and decided to carry on anyway.

"You’re right," Elias replied, tightening his own straps. "Only the strong survive. But you don't know what strength is yet."

In the morning, the sun broke over a world of white. They descended into the valley, two men weighted down by the needs of others, arriving not because they were the fastest, but because they were the ones who refused to be light.