Young Writers Society

James took the bowl and carefully placed it in his lap.

He had to be slow, and he had to be steady. Otherwise, he'd spill, and the last thing he needed was to make himself look more a helpless fool in Oliver's eyes. The more he could prove that he was managing on his own, the sooner Oliver would leave him.

At least, that was what he hoped.

He wished he had something to lean against. A tree, or anything. Something so he could focus on just eating. But he was not near enough to a tree to move over to one without having to get up. The thought of standing up after what had happened earlier made his muscles twinge in dread. He knew he'd have to get up eventually, but his body was begging him: not yet.

He dipped the spoon in the stew and slowly lifted it to his lips. Had he been offered stew two days ago, he might've felt famished and devoured it easily. But now, he had no appetite. He was only tired.

He took a spoonful. It tasted bland, but it was food, and he was never going to complain about having food.

James took his time, focusing on his stew and the repetitive act of dipping and raising the spoon. His muscles got into a rhythm that seemed to avoid unnecessary pain, but got the job done. A little over half-way through, and he felt full.

Well, a little more than full. He was starting to feel nausea. He carefully set the bowl and spoon to the side. He wanted to lie down again, but his nerves were nipping at him, insisting that he had to go soon, and now, or he'd get caught again, and it would be worse. But how could it be worse?

He sighed and let his head dip forward, hanging low.

Apparently, putting food in a dead body was a terrible idea.

I wasn't exactly feeling sick to my stomach, but it felt really unpleasant. My body was protesting every bite of stew I was stubbornly trying to eat. I eventually had to give in and put my bowl of stew to the side, too, even though I still had a decent amount of it left.

I looked up over at Tiberius, then glanced over at his horse.

Butch had tied him down to move him earlier. I wasn't thinking of tying him like that, but Tiberius obviously needed rest. If we could keep moving and get him to rest at the same time, he'd get better and not be as stubborn towards me.

"Let me guess," I said. "Now that you're done eating, you're going to ask if we can start moving again. Or if you can start moving again, since you're dead set on getting as far away from me as possible."

I paused.

"...Not that you're unjustified," I admitted. "After everything that happened with Butch."

James slowly turned his head toward Oliver. He didn’t know if Oliver thought he was being funny, or if this was how he was without Butch breathing down his neck, but he wasn’t sure how to take it. One moment, Oliver was fretting over him and the next he was sassing him.

James blinked slowly, knowing his face normally didn’t look too pleased, but this time he really felt it.

“I was thinking about it, yes.” He paused, looking away. Mentally preparing himself for it. He felt torn. His body wanted to rest, but fear was a persistent motivator.

“I don’t want to accompany you to Pineridge, but I can.” There were so many things he could say.

Oliver wouldn’t leave him. James needed the help. All things he didn’t want to acknowledge or admit out loud.

“But traveling with me might be... slow.” Only because he knew Oliver likely wouldn’t let James push himself like he normally would - for better or worse.

"I can go somewhere else," I said, dismissively. I got to my feet and grabbed my bowl - pausing a moment before I grabbed his, too. "And I can handle slow travel. I'm not in a rush."

I very much was, but there was nothing to say my body was even waiting for me in Pineridge. It was almost impossible to guess where it was right now. And even though I was worried about what I'd find, I had an obligation to help Tiberius. I'd let him think it was because I had let him get tortured; he would never know it was because I had done the torturing.

James was quiet for a moment. Oliver had wanted to get back to a city as soon as possible a few hours ago, but now he was determined to stick around.

What... until he recovered? That would be a while. Until he was stable? That all depended on how much rest and food he got.

James leaned forward, slowly preparing to stand. He started to tuck up his legs, and put his hands on his knees. When he did things more slowly, he didn’t feel as at risk of falling apart, as much as things still hurt.

When he got to his feet, he felt the nausea come in another, stronger wave. He chose to ignore it.

He took a small step to test his balance. His body felt shaky, like a spinning top, teetering before it fell, but he couldn’t find it in him to ask for help.

“If you’re not set on Pineridge,” he said, his voice a tad quieter. “Then we’ll go southwest. Unless you think you can point on the map what direction you remember Butch heading off in, so we can be intentional to avoid him.”

I moved a little closer to Tiberius. He was an idiot if he thought I couldn't see how hard it was for him to stand - he was in a serious need of a break. Butch, of course, was still a potential problem, so it wasn't like he could get the actual break he needed soon. People who got hurt that badly rarely got the chance for a break.

"Southwest sounds good," I said. "I do remember what direction Butch headed off in, but he was dead set on finding you - I don't think he's going to head in a straight line."

I paused, glanced between the horses and Tiberius again, and finally looked back in Tiberius's direction.

"Something tells me you're not going to like this idea," I started, "but you need the rest and want to keep moving. What if I tied you to your horse so you wouldn't fall off? Not like how you were tied up before. But if you somehow fall asleep when riding a horse - which is definitely possible with how you are right now - you wouldn't hit the ground and get even more hurt."

James looked at Oliver with narrowed eyes. Did he really think James would agree to be tied up again?

"You do realize how that sounds, don't you?"

I gave him a look.

"I have absolutely no idea," I said, deadpan. While we were talking, I was in the middle of cleaning out the bowls with a little bit of water from Reed's stuff. I didn't want to keep the little bits of food in the bowls. "I know how it sounds. That's why I said you wouldn't like it. But do you want to fall of your horse and get hurt? I guess I could tie you to the back of Tony and drag you across the ground as an alternative..."

I was in the middle of putting the bowls away when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I looked down at my left arm. There was something little and white coming out of my-

A maggot popped out.

Eye widening in alarm, I slammed my hand down on my arm in an attempt to hide the fact that Oliver's body had gotten bad enough before I possessed it for maggots to decide it was their new home.

The bowls, which I had been holding in the hand that I had slammed onto my arm, went clattering to the ground.

James nearly rolled his eyes in the back of his head as Oliver described their "other options." He groaned and started to trudge towards Elliot before swinging to look back at Oliver when he heard the smack and the bowls fall.

He probably got bit by something. What a shame.

"Is it dead?" he asked with eyebrows raised.

I froze.

Even though I knew he couldn't possibly have an idea that 1) I wasn't actually Oliver and 2) that I was possessing his dead body, I couldn't help but be terrified at the thought that I had been discovered. Then I realized he must have thought some bug landed on my arm - which wasn't entirely wrong.

"It's dead," I said, leaning down to grab the bowls again. When the maggot reared its head again a second later, I tugged it out of my skin and squashed it under my shoe - still crouched so Tiberius couldn't see it.

When I popped back up, an idea had come to me.

"Better idea than tying you up," I said. "What if we ride on the same horse? Tony's pretty sturdy, and I can keep you steady if you start to fall."

James paused at Elliot's side, one hand on the saddle. He was thinking about the effort it would take to mount his own steed when Oliver proposed a different solution.

He felt sick again, but not from the food. At least, he didn't think it was the food.

"You know, I really wish you'd have more faith in me," he said, looking down to the side in mock disappointment. He lifted an arm to grab the horn of his saddle. He fought to keep his face neutral, but when his elbow raised above the level of his shoulders, pain course through his back, down to the brand. He froze, gritting his teeth together and letting out a slow wheeze through his nose.

"I already fell once today," he said through his teeth. "Don't plan on it again."

I crossed my arms again.

"Of course," I said, starting to get a little frustrated by his attitude. "It's definitely something you can control. It's not like your body is weak from starving for a week, or getting cut up by m-"

I faltered, catching myself before I could slip up too much.

"-a knife-happy torturer," I finished.

I put the bowls away and walked over to him.

"I've been where you've been," I said. "Maybe with not as much cuts, but I know what it's like to be weak from hunger. You're not going to be able to ride a horse on your own. Trust me."

James tested his arm, pulling just a tad. He didn't look forward to hopping up on the horse. He didn't look forward to riding. Frankly, he wasn't looking forward to anything but lying down again at some point.

He scoffed.

"Trust is a lot to ask for, Oliver," James said, looking down at his shoes, and then up at the doctor. Oliver looked more gaunt and pale than usual. It didn't look like either of them were doing very well after Butch.

James tried not to feel anything, but empathy wormed its way into his gut, and he grimaced, eyes falling back to the ground. His lips twitched in a frown. There was a long pause as he reluctantly peeled away at his pride.

"If we're going to be on the same horse," he finally muttered, his voice low. "I'm holding the reins."

"Fine," I said - giving a triumphant smirk. "I was going to suggest that, anyways. If you start to fall off, it makes more sense for me to be behind you."


It wasn't long before we had left behind our site. Tiberius was still unsteady, but I liked to think it helped that I was supporting him from behind. Plus, the way we were seated gave me the added bonus of easily being able to take care of any maggots that decided to pop out before Tiberius could even notice them.

We had been traveling mostly in silence, but I could only take that for so long. I shifted my weight a little and peered over at Tiberius.

"So," I said, "why exactly do you have a bounty on your head?"

James's eyes shot open and he glared at Oliver through the side. Just a moment ago, he had been content with the silence between them as they rode through the forest. His body had finally adjusted to the rhythm of the rocking in the saddle and he'd felt like he could finally breathe again.

He hadn't forgotten Oliver was there behind him - holding him - but he hadn't been expecting such an obtuse question.

"Gods above, are you dim? Did Butch really not tell you anything?"