The guy stares around after I'd asked him what happened to him. He lets out a puff of air and starts explaining his history. As in, right from the start, how his mother died when he was young, how he found the wolf, and why he has a seven pointed star etched on his forehead. I give him a droll look the entire time. All I wanted to know was why he was unconscious for so long. I don't care what happened when he was eight! Why is he telling us everything? What piques my interest is what he says about his immunity, and how it isn't natural.
"Wait," I hold a hand up to cut him off. "What do you mean you're unnaturally immune?"
"My dad, he was a scientist. They were working on a cure and found it. I got injected with the serum before their lab was destroyed by the Infected," he rattles off.
"That could come in handy," Samuel says, rubbing his chin.
"Yes, except when he gets bit, he passes out, if what we're to go by is true," I shoot back.
"That is true," the boy nods. "Because my body is fighting off the disease."
"But how good a shot are you?" Matt asks.
I hold in a smile. Such an appropriate question. Trust Matt to ask the right questions.
"Ahh, pretty good with a gun –"
"What about any other weapon?" Samuel cuts in.
"He has his wolf," Low points out. "Who is Immune, right?"
The kid nods. "Yeah, Blitz is pretty good at killing the Infected," he says.
Samuel – who seems to be the group leader for the time being – shakes his head. "He'll stay. Even with his disadvantage of passing out after being bitten, he's still an asset," he says.
"I don't mind him staying till he becomes a pain in the asset," I snap, and walk back over to my pack and small pile of bone arrows.
"Don't mind her, she's snappy at everyone she meets," Matt says lightheartedly.
I block everyone out and keep carving until my fingers ache and my stomach rumbles. The sun has started to set, and I can hear screams in the distance starting up. Samuel rekindles the fire, showing Low what to do. Matt is going through all his supplies, taking out an empty water canister. I should probably do the same, but not until I've finished with the bones.
The deer Matt had shot has been stripped of its meat, it's bones taken out, organs and skin. The carcass had been taken away, probably dumped with the cat's one. I wonder if I should tell Samuel that the smell of blood is more likely to lure in a bear or wolf than an Infected. They go for live things, not dead things.
With a sigh I put my carving knife and half carved bow down to get up. I stretch, arms high above my head. My shoulders crack, and I bend over backwards to crack my back. I let out a sigh of content and walk over to the fire to pick up some of the cat meat jerky. Samuel is laying out more strips of meat and I remember I have a small pot in my pack.
"Know how to make soup?" I ask him.
He looks up. "Shouldn't be too hard," he says.
I chuckle and get my pot out. I fill it with the last of my water and put it by the fire, close enough for it to start boiling, but not so close that you'll singe your hand grabbing the handle.
"Here you go, this should be useful," I say to Samuel.
"Thanks," he looks at the small, dented pot with a raised eyebrow before looking back at me, a half smirk on his lips.
"Just let me try and be nice," I grate out through my teeth, and get up.
Picking up the now empty water canister, I go over to Matt and he looks up at me, a sort of shy smile on his face. I don't know what it is about his smile, but it makes me want to smile too.
"Hey Matt, wanna go fill up the water canisters? There's a stream nearby," I ask him.
"Is that wise, running off?" Samuel calls from the fire.
"We'll both be armed," I counter over my shoulder.
"It's getting dark," he shoots back.
"We need water," I hiss.
End of discussion. Samuel huffs something about 'reckless Immunes' before calling Low to him to show him how to make soup. At least, I hope what he plans on making is edible, I'm starving.
Matt grabs two water canisters and leaps to his feet. I look around for any other water canisters and spot one more by Samuel's stuffs. I stroll over to it and grab it. He gives me a savage glare and I poke my tongue at him before skipping over to Matt.
"Come on," I breathe and dance into the trees.
We walk in silence until we get to the stream. Matt doesn't look at me as he fills the canisters with clear, stream water. I find my eyes drifting over his body and quickly shake my head. I walk over beside him and bend down to fill up the other canisters I have.
"So, got any interesting stories?" Matt asks, and then bites his lip, as though he regrets asking me that.
"Ahh," I wrack my brain for anything. "I think I've kind of told you most of what I've gone through," I admit.
"Surely something funny has happened though?" Matt is biting his lip again.
"I fell down a tree once, while escaping an Infected. That was when the last of my hair colour leeched out," I shrug. "I was running from a deer Infected. I know deer can't climb, so I climbed up a pine tree. Got almost to the top because I was too scared to stop. Almost touched a spider and screamed. Obviously I let go of the branches and just fell until I hit the ground. The Infected below latched onto my shoulder and in my pain I managed to stab it to death," I bite my lip. "That turned dark really quickly. I guess moral of the story, don't rush up a tree."
Matt doesn't quite laugh. He sort of chuckles though. He stares at me with his steel grey eyes. I try to imagine him with brown eyes and darker hair, but I can't. I wonder what he was like before all this started. He was alive a few years before it all happened. He's twenty ... One? He looks around twenty anyway. That's five years of seeing the world how it was before. I was only three, I barely remember what it was like. A lot of lights and colour and warmth. Now everything just feels cold. Very cold.
"Are you okay, Wyvern?" Matt asks.
Quickly, I shake my head and wipe at my face. "Sorry, I got lost in thought," I admit.
He smiles. "Or lost in my eyes?" He jokes, and then starts biting his lip again.
I blink in surprise at the comment and then let out a bark of laughter. "Oh Matt," I shake my head and ruffle his hair. "Stop biting your lip, you don't have to worry what you say around me."
He just keeps chewing on his bottom lip. I nudge him with my shoulder and stand up. He rises to his feet too and looks down at me with a soft smile before looking toward the camp.
"It's pretty dark, let's get back to camp," he says, but in a way that makes it sound like a challenge.
"Sure," I nod. "Tomorrow we should leave the camp. Those screams are getting pretty close."
Matt stops walking and tilts his head to the side, as though he's listening for the screams. They're very faint, fainter than before, but there none of the less. Matt is so immersed in listening to the screams, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, his lips parted a little, his head to the side, fringe falling across his forehead. His left leg is slightly forward, his shoulders turned a little toward me. It's almost like he's been frozen midstride. And he looks absolutely gorgeous. A story my father once told me comes to mind, about a man that would bring about snow. He was called Jack Frost. Dad loved telling stories, but my favourite was always Jack Frost, because he made kids laugh and he was made of ice and snow. Right now, Matt looks like what I'd imagine Jack Frost would look like, and he's put me under a spell with his magic.
"I'd say they're three miles away, maybe more," Matt says, moving to stand straighter.
The spell is broken. I can feel a blush crawling up my cheeks and I look away. "Still too close," I murmur.
"Yeah," Matt nods. "Come on, let's get back to camp."
He brushes passed me, and I shudder. What the hell was that? I've been around people before, I've shaken hands with people and I've been hugged by a complete stranger once. Yet Matt just brushing passed me sends a strange feeling through my body. Mum told me that as I grow older I'm going to notice some changes in my body and attitude, but I didn't quite know what she meant. I mean yeah, my body filled out and I grew boobs, but what else has happened? I know I'm nastier than I was when I was a kid, but that's because of what I've been through.
"Wyvern!" Matt calls.
Snapping out if my thoughts, I spin around and leap over to Matt. He smiles at me and I return the smile with a meagre curl of my lips. We walk back into the camp and put the water canisters down. I place Samuel's one on his things and he looks up from the small, steaming pot to smile. Only instead of smiling, he frowns.
"What's wrong with you?" He asks.
I try to give him a glare. "Nothing," I snap, although it comes out too breathy.
Samuel narrows his eyes and turns to look at Matt, who has a look of contemplation on his face. He walks over to Samuel and bends down beside him.
"Wyvern thinks we should head off tomorrow," he says to Samuel.
Samuel nods. "Yeah, I guess that's fair," he rubs his chin and glances at Low, who's talking to Harry. I follow his gaze and lock eyes with the wolf, Blitz. He tilts his head to the side, white eyes flashing.
Emotion bubbles up in my chest, and I try to push it down. My stomach twists and I look at my feet, averting my gaze from the wolf's white eyes. Samuel and Matt discuss tomorrow, and I walk back over to my pack. I sit down and stare at the bones in front of me. They're almost white now, like my hair, like my pale eyes, and like my skin. I don't pick them up to keep carving though. I just curl up on the ground and close my eyes. My stomach grumbles angrily at me but I ignore it, trying to calm my mind so I can sleep.
Hours pass. Samuel and Matt go to sleep. Low and Harry talk for a while longer before finally going to sleep too. I just lie there, eyes closed, breathing softly. Sleep evades me like a half forgotten memory. All I can do is lie on the ground, stomach clenched from hunger, chest tight with emotions. Giving up on sleep, I roll onto my back and listen to the screams in the distance. Three miles. That would be maybe three and a half or four kilometres. Or is a mile longer than a kilometre? I can't remember anymore.
The light dances across his face, the shadows distorting the contours of his features. His white eyes stare at me over the fire. A low, pained moan echoes in his chest, his bloodied hand lifting to reach across the flames to grab me.
"Wyvern, hey," I'm being shaken awake. My eyes flutter open, wan light filtering through the leaves above. They flit to Matt leaning over me, smiling down at me. "Time to go."
I nod and sit up. I pack away the bones and carving knife into my pack, and tie some chord around the water canister. I take out my knives and strap one to my belt and put one in my boots. Standing up, I sling my pack on and thread the chord through the straps of the pack, the water canister hanging by my hip.
"Good to go?" Samuel asks.
Matt holds a thumb up. Samuel puts out the fire and slings his pack on. Low has a bundle in his arms, I think it's the deer and cat fur. Harry doesn't have anything to carry, but I have a feeling that is going to change later on in our travels.
Samuel heads out of the clearing, and everyone follows behind him. The younger guys go after Samuel, Blitz walks behind them, glancing around as he walks, and Matt and I bring up the rear. I feel drained, tired, not quite myself. I'm glad I'm at the back of the group, I can walk slower.
"Are you alright?" Matt asks me quietly. Blitz looks over his shoulder at us to see who spoke before looking ahead again. "Wyvern?"
"Yeah, just tired," I lie.
There are moments, rare moments, where emotion breaks through the wall of ice I've spent the last five years putting up. There are just a couple of moments where I feel like utter shit. Of course I'm used to just going through those moments alone, but now I have to push my feelings aside so I don't appear weak in front of everyone.
"You sure?" Matt asks.
All I want to do is curl up and cry. I wipe St my face and nod. "Yeah, just tired," I repeat, starting to believe it myself. Matt probably doesn't though. "Couldn't sleep."
"Too cold?" He asks.
I shrug. "Just not tired enough," I admit.
Although it is pretty cold at night. But I'm used to sleeping in the cold. I wonder if these guys are. Those furs would make great rugs.
"Maybe too tired," Matt says quietly. "The world is dying, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone was too tired to sleep at night."
I glance at him and find myself smiling. "Yeah," I murmur, not sure how my response ties in with what he said.
Although he is right, the world is dying, but I won't let it drag me down with it. Certainly not today.
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