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Chapter 11 - Chapter 3: The Watchers

The morning was crisp and quiet, the kind of stillness that settled over the canyon only after a restless night. Jake stretched his arms, feeling the ache in his muscles from yesterday's work. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the pale light seeping through the cracks of the hut. Beside him, Miya was still asleep, her breathing slow and steady.

Jake slipped outside, the air cold against his skin. He looked around, taking in the settlement, the rough huts, the winding paths, the distant sound of someone chopping wood. That was probably Jeremiah, the newcomer. The thought made Jake's stomach tighten. He had to keep an eye on him.

He found Boyd waiting by the path, leaning against a fence post, his scarred face impassive. Boyd was the kind of man who never seemed to sleep, always watching, always listening. He nodded at Jake as he approached.

"Morning," Jake said.

Boyd grunted in response, then gestured toward the inn. "He's working there today."

Jake followed Boyd's gaze. Jeremiah was indeed at the inn, chopping wood for the kitchen. He swung the axe with practiced ease, his face expressionless. He looked like a man who had done this kind of work before, but there was something in his eyes, something restless, searching.

"He wanted to work at the mines," Boyd said, voice low. "But the owner's not here. So he's helping at the inn for now."

Jake nodded. It made sense. In the canyon, you took what work you could get. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that Jeremiah was here for more than just a job.

They watched in silence for a while, the rhythmic sound of the axe echoing through the morning air. Boyd was a good watcher, his eyes sharp, his body still. He didn't need to speak to make his presence felt.

Jake found himself wondering about Boyd. The man was a mystery, even to the other settlers. He rarely talked about himself, and no one asked. But today, Jake felt a strange urge to know more.

"How did you end up here, Boyd?" he asked, keeping his voice low so Jeremiah wouldn't overhear.

Boyd glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Does it matter?"

Jake shrugged. "I guess not. Just curious."

Boyd was silent for a long moment. Then, instead of answering, he turned the question back on Jake. "What about you? How did you end up here?"

Jake frowned. The question caught him off guard. He tried to remember, but his mind was blank. There was only a fleeting image.... a city, maybe..., .....with tall buildings and noise. But the memory slipped away as quickly as it came.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't remember."

Boyd nodded, as if he expected this answer. "You're just a settler now," he said. "The past isn't important here."

Jake felt a chill run down his spine. The words echoed in his mind, familiar and strange at the same time.

They watched Jeremiah for a while longer, then Boyd straightened up. "I'll keep an eye on him. You go on."

Jake nodded and started back toward the hut. As he walked, Boyd's words repeated in his head. The past isn't important here. It was a strange thing to say, but it felt true. The more time he spent in the canyon, the less he remembered of his life before. The memories slipped away like water through his fingers, leaving only the present, only the settlement.

When he reached the hut, Miya was awake, stirring a pot over the fire. She looked up as he entered, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Watching Jeremiah," Jake said. "He's working at the inn."

Miya nodded, then frowned. "You look troubled."

Jake sat down beside her, staring into the fire. "I was talking to Boyd. He asked me how I ended up here. I couldn't remember."

Miya was silent for a moment. "I can't remember either," she admitted. "Sometimes I think I see something .....a street, a face....but it's gone before I can hold onto it."

Jake nodded. It was the same for him. The past was a blur, a dream just out of reach.

They ate breakfast in silence, the fire crackling between them. Outside, the settlement was waking up, the sounds of voices and work drifting through the air.

After breakfast, Jake went back outside, his mind still on Boyd's words. He walked through the settlement, nodding at the other settlers as he passed. They all looked the same,tired, weathered, their eyes hollow with forgotten memories.

He stopped by the inn again, watching Jeremiah from a distance. The man was still chopping wood, his movements precise and steady. He looked up once, his eyes meeting Jake's, but he didn't say anything. There was something unsettling about him, something that made Jake's skin prickle.

Jake turned away and wandered toward the edge of the settlement, where the trees grew thick and the path disappeared into the woods. He sat on a fallen log, staring at the sky. The sun was higher now, the air warmer.

He closed his eyes and tried to remember. The city, the noise, the faces,they were all gone. He wondered if he would ever remember, or if the past was truly lost to him.

As he sat there, a memory surfaced,a dream from last night. He had woken with a start, murmuring something under his breath. He couldn't remember what it was at first, but now it came back to him. The same words Boyd had said: The past isn't important here.

It was strange, how the dream and the reality blended together. Maybe it was just the canyon, working its way into his mind. Or maybe it was something else, something deeper.

Jake sighed and stood up. He walked back to the hut, his thoughts still tangled. Miya was outside now, hanging laundry on a line. She smiled when she saw him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said.

Jake shook his head. "Just thinking."

Miya nodded, understanding without words. She knew how it was in the canyon,how the days blurred together, how the memories slipped away.

They spent the rest of the morning working around the hut, fixing the roof, tending to the garden. The work was hard, but it felt good to use his hands, to feel the earth under his feet.

In the afternoon, Jake went back to the inn, curious to see if Jeremiah was still there. He was, but now he was helping serve food to the other settlers. He moved quietly, his eyes darting around the room, taking everything in.

Jake sat at a table in the corner, watching. Boyd was there too, sitting at the bar, his back to the wall. He caught Jake's eye and nodded, then went back to his drink.

Jeremiah brought Jake a plate of stew and a mug of ale. He set them down without a word, but his eyes lingered on Jake for a moment, as if he wanted to say something.

"Thanks," Jake said.

Jeremiah nodded, then hesitated. "You're also new here, aren't you?"

Jake frowned. "Not really. I've been here a while."

Jeremiah's eyes narrowed. "You don't look like the others."

Jake shrugged. "Maybe you're just not used to us yet."

Jeremiah studied him for a moment, then turned away. Jake watched him go, his mind racing. There was something about Jeremiah that bothered him, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He ate his stew in silence, listening to the chatter around him. The settlers talked about the weather, the crops, the mine. But no one talked about the past. No one talked about the world outside the canyon.

Jake ate in silence, watching the other settlers. They were a rough bunch, their voices loud, their laughter sharp. But they were his people now, his community.

As the sun began to set, Jake headed back to the hut. Miya was already there, building up the fire. They sat together, watching the flames, the silence comfortable between them.

That night, as Jake lay in bed, he thought about Boyd's words again. The past isn't important here. He whispered them to himself, wondering if they were true.

He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him, hoping that this time, he would dream of something real.

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