A smile still hangs on her lips as Jonas voices his agreement, however, she closes her mouth quickly, being how she felt the wind on her gums. When she sees how he offers her a smile back, she realizes how it felt right to trust him. A lot of people gave Wren smiles, some neither fish nor fowl, others with lips spread so wide they reached the corners of their eyes. The latter happened more often with her parents and Abram. To see him offering a grin in her direction warmed something in her heart, though the cold still reigned above any other emotion.

The young woman glances up at him and widens her eyes as Jonas tosses the scarf in her direction. Her hands fly up to her face to catch the piece of fabric thrown her way. The warmth still wrapped in it reaches her fingers, which she savours for a moment before to attach it around her neck. “Thank you.” Her voice comes out softly, her not feeling the need to speak out loud. Her thoughts still wander out to him, that handing Wren his scarf could bring cold on him. “I’m not sure how warm it is, but it is more than here.”

As the silence wraps itself around them, Wren keeps walking, her eyes wandering between the copse of trees and the road, to look for a possible threat, though she wouldn’t know what to do in the face of an enemy she never faced before. The shift in Jonas’ motions can be felt, though Wren is unsure of what prompted it. The absence of sound nearly makes his sentence echo in the distance. 

Somehow, Jonas tripped over his own feet after she spoke, something that surprised her, given how he vowed to protect her. What kind of person falters in their steps after the mention of a name. She frowns to herself in reaction to the question she heard in his voice, as she feels he doubt the truth of how she introduced herself. A small sigh escape her lungs, a cloud of vaporous mist forming in front of her mouth. The question remained if she would share her actual name, as he did, but keeping things to herself won in the end.

“It’s not my actual name, but, for the sake of how things are... I’d rather use Birdy for now.”

Embarrassment flooded over her, causing Wren to feel her cheeks starting to burn. Without wasting a second more, the young woman brought her hands to the hem of her scarf, tugging on the fabric to cover her face. Of course, the blush on her face could pass as a reaction to the cold, a makeshift explanation that she appreciated to know she could use. Once the piece of clothing covered anything under the bridge of her nose, Wren tucked her hands in her pockets once more, taking one step after the other, careful of where she steps. “Maybe you would like to see the Barn, when we get there; there’s a lot of people regrouped there. More than the other camp sites around.”

Dangerous Times | Open

“Yeah. When the world is shot to shit, I don’t think anyone is going to be focusing on our manners.” And Jonas had always been a polite and proper boy- holding the door open for people, always saying please or thank you, pulling the chair out for his girlfriend. It’s a shame an introduction slipped his mind and was replaced with drawn knives and cautious words. He also reminds himself that it probably doesn’t matter, not when this can very easily be the first and last time he sees this face. He does smile a bit more widely when Wren finds her laughter, more sincerely than her half-hearted chuckle from before. It makes it easy for him to let the tension slip off of his shoulders.

Wren looks cold as the sun is dipping to the horizon. Jonas notes that and starts to unravel the scarf he had around his neck. “Here,” he says, tossing the piece of fabric to her. The chill bites at the skin on his neck now, but he can tolerate it. Seattle had always been chillier than Columbus, the humidity from the West Coast waters brought in a cold that seeped into his bones. Now his skin tingles and he shivers, but Jonas can tolerate it. “I hope where you’re staying is warm enough.”

They walk still in the direction Wren leads them with Jonas staying one step behind and he falls silent to let nothing but the crunching of snow be heard. It’s quiet enough that when Wren speaks again, Jonas hears her crystal clear in the approaching evening. Her name.

“Birdy?”

It sounds skeptical, but he doesn’t mean it. Jonas bites the inside of his cheek. He falters in his steps, but the pause is short-lived as he walks to keep up with her. Birdy is her name? It’s not that it’s a bad name, but Jonas just tries to imagine the parent that would name their kid ‘Birdy’. “Is that your real name?” It has to be a nickname of sorts, which is fine. He can call her by a nickname if she so prefers. He’s mostly curious.

Wren hums to herself in thought, as she counts the weeks she spent in the survivor base. Things were a blur she was realizing. That happened when the only thing you could use as a reference was the time she spent awakened and not. A part of her was glad that the blonde decided to stay, though she was still worried.

“I would say about 3 weeks, but I’m not sure. What about you in the soldier camp?”

“That sounds good.” 

A break from being in charge. A break from being yelled at about saving the world from the others. A break from preparing to fight a war she was forced into. She needed this. Tessa never had to act as a survivor. Soon after she was separated from her parents, the army found her. 

“How long have you been here?”

Wren nodded as the young man talked about luck not being a common occurrence. She agreed without a doubt, considering how if chance had been on her path more often, she would’ve met up with people she knew already. The truth of how lonely she had been since the third wave hurt her deeper than she thought, realizing it more now that she met someone with whom she shared a conversation, though they had started off as a threat. 

Sharing information about where she came from, what life had been before the wreck was something she couldn’t afford nor wanted. She is grateful he doesn’t push for more confidences. Oversharing can make you lose time, focus and patience. His statement brought a halt to the matter at hand, stopping the discussion. She thinks for a second before to answer, being how she considered of ways to show how she agreed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to afford the luxury of luck again.” Wren accompanied her sentence of a weak smile, almost regretting her choice of words, considering the grimness they withheld.

The young woman lowered her eyes on the blade he held, pursing her lips back together in reaction to his words, thinking to herself how she would enjoy having such a weapon, then pondering what use it would be, if she could even wield it. The answer was surely negative, being how she hesitated to even use the pocket knife she carried around, no matter how useful it was. Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of laughter, Wren snapping back to the present, lifting her eyes on the other who appeared to be genuinely amused. Was it because of her, she couldn’t guess for sure. Maybe he thought of something funny.

It turned out what she had said was actually the reason for him laughing. Wren pushed a short chuckle out of her lungs, one that felt half-hearted. Sighing, she brought her hands deeper in her pockets, as she sought more warmth than what she had already, moving her fingers inside the holes of her coat. “ Well, Jonas... It’s hard to be polite when your breaths are at stake, isn’t it?” She had said the beginning of her sentence in order to taste his name on her tongue to see if it held familiarity as she spoke it, the rest simply following as it was her very opinion concerning what he’d uttered about politeness. Nonetheless, it was now her who laughed, though it felt grim, it was still a genuine sound.

As she walked, she recalled how she hadn’t shared her own name, but truly, in this world, she prefers to have the opportunity to go unnoticed, to have the less people in a possible way to know about her. Freedom comes at a cost, and it can happen that your name brings your demise.Her mother’s voice came back to her mind, a mere whisper suggesting that she can share at least a whistle with him. Tilting her chin upward, savouring the crunch of the snow beneath her feet, she lets the air fill her lungs as she prepares her mind for a reply. “I’m- I’m Birdy.” That was barely convenient an answer, her voice shaking under the cold. Blinking of her eyes, she fixed her stare in front of her, focussing on the road ahead, refusing to be bothered by anything.

Dangerous Times | Open

It’s an interesting story, to say the least. Jonas hadn’t been lucky to never be in such situations that he does often think about how it may happen again. Running into the person that could very well end your life, that is. That was how his brother died, caught up in anger and violence and a flash of fiery metal and crimson. He opts out of turning this into storytime and shoves the memory back into the red-stained photo album of his mind.

“Luck isn’t a common thing to come by these days.” It’s his way of trying to dismiss the topic. If she says she hasn’t been followed, Jonas has to do as she asked and that is to trust her. He highly doubts this is an elaborate plan to lean him to aforementioned person and trap himself. Wren has this sincerity in his she speaks that Jonas can’t expect her to be up to anything less-than-angelic. He does hope that isn’t himself becoming too lax in the situation. But, he’s being trained to fight Others, and Wren isn’t an Other so he has no reason to act in any hostile or reluctant way.

Jonas shrugs at the mention of his knife. “Good, I need it to.” That is the whole point in wielding one, isn’t it? To not look defenseless or weak. He’s armed and that’s all an potential enemy needs to know. Not that he’s frightened to his core, too tired to really fight, and reluctant to drive a blade to its home in soft flesh. The thought has him inwardly cringe, which the response is a contradiction given his current role as a soldier. He figures until he’s killed his first he will always think this way, that he’ll always be worried and afraid that he can’t do it. Yet, he offers himself as a line of defense to Wren while she’ll make her way back to her camp.

This time, when Jonas laughs, it’s more genuine. Oh right, how could he forget introductions? He supposes names aren’t important before facing strangers that could only either be friend or foe. “Politeness isn’t a necessity anymore, I’d forgotten to even mention my name. I’m Jonas.” He would offer a hand to formally shake, but it’s currently holding the knife and the other is buried in his pocket, seeking warmth from the February chill. “Not Jo’ or anything, let’s keep it as Jonas.”

Jonas walks with her now as she begins moving, but he doesn’t demand her to tell him her name. She can if she so wishes, but he doesn’t even know if after today he will see her again. He thinks for a fleeting second that maybe he would want to, that she is safe and friendly and a taste of something sincere and welcoming, but Jonas knows he can’t hold onto that idea. He doesn’t really know Wren, even if she’s displayed nothing to have him think otherwise. The time to make friends isn’t now, not when people are constantly dying or turning their backs to you, so for now Jonas doesn’t hold onto anything more than the hope he will see Elise again.

Of course, her very survival could be questioned, even Wren doesn’t know why she still is alive, let alone why she had been spared that morning, in the midst of the scavenged store, food tucked in her coat. Sure, she had ran to the back of the store, but the slam of the door had given away her position, made her an easy target. “Yes, I’m not sure what went through their mind, but they looked at me, huffed a threat and then left. I didn’t spend a minute more there, didn’t have to. I haven’t seen them since.”

Her eyes flicker up at the sound of his sigh, wondering what prompted it. Was it her words, was it something she did? It turned out she was wrong, as all she witnessed was him being nervously surveying the area. Watching him, Wren realized she ought to be more careful, to pay attention to everything happening, if she wanted to spend one more day alive. She needed to keep herself above trouble, for her parents, for Abram, and mainly for her own sake.

The grim smile she receives made her frown, uncertainty of the reason behind it filling her before to find an answer in his words. A joke, something that felt slightly out of place given their previous conversation, but maybe this was his attempt to lighten the mood. Still, him mentioning how intimidating he looked brought Wren to stifle a chuckle, a short laugh tinged with disagreement. “Your knife helps you look intimidating, if anything.”

Wren’s eyebrows shot up at the suggestion of the young man as he would accompany her back to her camp site. A flourish of thoughts coursed through her head as she realized she would need to pay back the kindness. “I want to trust you for this, but I don’t know your name...” Shrugging slightly, mostly to bring her shoulders in a more comfortable position, she pursed her lips, then looked down at her feet. Names hold power, she knew, and to know his could bring leverage, though it wouldn’t be something she’d take advantage of. 

“You can come with me, if you want. I guess it’s better not to walk alone in these times.” With those words being uttered, Wren started walking north, following the still fresh foot tracks she’d left. Sure, she had strayed from her way earlier as she’d hunted a deer, one that unlikely survived everything the Others brought upon the Earth. The animal had escaped her sight, and it was while following its trace that she had met with the unknown young man. The sun had started going down further on the horizon, which made it clear that a light torch would be useful soon.

Dangerous Times | Open

“Spared?” he parrots the word, and both of his eyebrows raise up in a subtle sort of skepticism. She wasn’t followed, save for himself, but she had been spared. He wonders for a second there if he should be worried, if that whatever or whoever spared her was still around. Jonas exhales a sigh through his nose, shifting his eyes around the brush nervously. It may be obvious that he’s expecting some negative to happen, but he avoids voicing it. Wren’s already stated she doesn’t like to fight or anything of the sort, he has to be the backbone if something happens. That’s his job as a soldier after all… right?

Jonas gives Wren a grim looking smile. “I mean no harm by it. It’s just… Had I been someone a tad bit more menacing- and I know, I am quite intimidating…” he jokes and chuckles softly, each exhalation of air causing a puff of smoke produced as it hit the cold air. The sound is short-lived, and Jonas doesn’t look or even feel amused even at his poor jest. It’s probably a bad idea to tease and sound reprimanding at the same time. He decides to drop the topic as to not come off too nagging. Though he means well, his worrisome nature can be overbearing to some.

“C'mon, I’ll accompany you back.” He doesn’t know which way to go, and if Wren wants to show him. He’s not looking to be nosy. Elise would be proud of him, wouldn’t she? Offering a helping hand to a stranger, like he’d always used to do when he volunteered on the ambulance. “If you trust me, that is. I trust you, enough.” Or so he says. Jonas isn’t sure if trust is the right word or if he’s just confident he has no reason to feel threatened. Who knows? But to trust is easier than to gain someone else’s trust, he thinks, and it would only be fair if Wren returned the notion. He is only offering to guide her back so she isn’t left vulnerable to anybody else.

The wind blowing carries a distant melody, one that goes strangely along with your voice, for it has been compared to the song of the birds. You want to go away, away from all the pain and loss, but you always end up right where you started, going along with the light of the day.

The bitterness she received, though deserved, stung a bit harder than the cold. The boy was right, death was around the corner, and she had witnessed her parents pass away in front of her eyes, their fate ironically being tied to the airborne virus carried by birds. The waves hadn’t been merciful on anyone, a fact Wren started to realize more and more, as she heard the stories of people who had made it to that day. None of the tales were pretty and close to nothing her mother told her actually proved useful in the wild. Most of the days were spent using her common sense, Wren adapting herself to the best of her abilities.

The shift in the boy’s attitude doesn’t go unnoticed, seeing how it differed greatly from his previous demeanor. His state of fatigue was given away by the shadows hanging beneath his sapphire eyes, almost bruises on the skin by their shade. Wren tilted her head to the side when he spoke again, not realizing how her lips were pursed, the young woman holding her breath. Feeling the need for air, she opened her mouth, inhaling before to speak. “I wasn’t followed, except by you, at least, I think... As for hurt, I’m not, out of shear luck. That’s what I meant before. I- I was spared.”

Huffing quietly, Wren acquiesced to his words by a small nod of her head. It was true, potential opponents wouldn’t know about her non-existential ability to fight, nor would they wait to learn about it. Those words the boy shared displayed truth, it being obvious he was experienced in the matter to say the least. The young woman took mental note of the advice, as it was exactly what he called his words. A know-how. In those times, it was something Wren needed, no matter who it came from. Sure, her knife could come in handy, though carrying it out at all times may be considered a menace. “Thank you, I will try to remember it.” That was the least she could say, and there was so much more she wanted to utter, but now wasn’t the time. It probably would never be.

All of a sudden, the young man pulled his blade out once again, bringing Wren to widen her eyes in reaction, her growing stiff before to hear him speak again. He offers... help? To go back where she set camp. It sounds tempting but at the same time, wrong...? “I- I can make my way back alone, it would be better for us both, unless you insist to come.” Wren looked down as she finished speaking. Never would she force someone to do something, especially if it regarded her. Nonetheless, she definitely knew she could use some company.

Dangerous Times | Open

Jonas can’t help how bitter he sounds when he retorts, “A lot of us could have met death by this point.” Or seen it. He has, every single damned time those Others unleashed another wave. All of his family was killed in front of him by various means, Jonas was supposed to be one of them, and all he has left is the hope he holds onto in seeing Elise again. Though it is far-fetched Jonas still waits for the day he lays eyes on her face again. Her being death isn’t considered a possibility, not yet. The world hadn’t been cruel enough to take her away right in front of him.

This is no time to take out his inner frustrations, though. Jonas clears his throat and slumps his shoulders, a bit defeated looking, and then glances to Wren with very tired eyes. “Are you alright now, though? You’re not hurt or running from anything, are you?” It’s a fair question, and Jonas would like to know if she had an encounter recently with an Other. Taking a chance to trust her, Jonas steps closer, but he doesn’t tuck his hands away into the warm confines of his pockets yet. They’re cold, but he’s learned a very harsh lesson since Hell broke loose.

“You know that, but your possible enemy doesn’t have to.” Upon closer inspection, Jonas feels less worried now. She wasn’t threatened a few steps back, but there’s a level of comfort in being able to approach someone and know they’re not a possible ticket to your demise. Oh, how he wished he didn’t have to think so darkly. Apocalyptic situations do that to a person. “A lot of people don’t think they’re capable of hurting or killing. But if someone who is capable knows that, they might realize they have an advantage. It’s not a safe world out there, not right now. It’s not so much I’m trying to boss you around, just offering a bit of know-how.” Maybe Wren is just too trusting, or maybe it’s desperation. It is obvious where he is from, she made that clear.

He appears contemplative at what she says about her foreign sounding language. Jonas was never a master in any linguistics and all he has is her word to trust. She isn’t necessarily in a position to lie at all, and there’s something that tells him to take her word for it. He draws his knife back out, but in a non-threatening sense, and makes a motion with his head to nowhere in particular. She’d said she can’t harm someone, and that alone would make her vulnerable wouldn’t it? “Well… do you need help getting to where you need to be?”

“I was just trying to help. It’s mostly everyone for themselves but I thought it was okay to offer a hand. You looked like you needed it.”

          “ nice sentiment and all, but that sort’a shit gets you KILLED out here. so save the heroics, next time. ”

The reaction to her statement about how there was other survivors surprised Wren more than it should’ve. Still, it was responded with a short nod of her own in assessment. She bit her lip, ignoring the cold and the fleeting thought of how chewing on her lips would prompt to more scars than the ones she already had. 

“Yes, and I’m waiting for some people to join, still. I’m glad I am still alive. I could’ve met death at least a few times now.”

A short sigh escaped her lungs, forming a small cloud of vapor, grey wisps floating in the air in front of her. With her breathing slowing down, so did her heartbeat. The adrenaline slowly ran out of her veins, the stress of being spotted disappearing at each high and low of her chest. What felt odd was how she had opened up to the other boy. She knew nothing from him and here she was, confessing about her nearly dying.

It was comforting to see he’d put his weapon away, though, one less threat to deal with. His next sentence makes Wren’s stomach drop, her being forced to see the irony of what he told her, considering he kept his own weapon out for longer than she did. The only response she figured out to give was a sharp shake of her head, a cold look seeping in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t make the first move. That knife is too small to hurt anyone or... anything properly. I don’t like using weapons and I know that.”

The other boy’s reaction to what she said in Cherokee was astounding. Her use of her mother’s language was something she did with pride, though a tongue slip was more common when she was nervous. Lifting a shaky hand to her head, she tucked some of her hair beneath her ear, glancing up from the ground to the other young man. Rolling her tongue across her lips, she took another breath in, thinking of the way to answer his question.

“I asked you to trust me. I know it’s strange, but if I was anything but human, one of us would be dead by now. So please, trust me. And maybe... just let me go, for now, I would owe you.”

Dangerous Times | Open

Sneaking out needs to be a habit nipped in the bud before it becomes too consistent. Then Jonas wouldn’t be in situations like the one he is in now. He should’ve stayed at camp, he shouldn’t have decided to track a set of prints he’s found just to test what he’s learned, and then maybe he shouldn’t have stepped out into plain view. But had he run and she wasn’t just a human girl, would he have made it back?

“Other- survivors?” Jonas’s eyebrows raise to their peak, and his curiousity is back now though his nerves are still winning the battle. It would be dumb to assume there wouldn’t be survivors wandering about in Ohio outside of Camp Haven. The thing about the human race is that it is resilient, and even with enormous numbers wiped out from previous destruction and sickness the remainder pushes on and dares to continue to draw breath. Just because he’d been so lucky to find himself in a shelter and temporary home in Camp Haven didn’t mean others were finding other means by which to survive.

Wren unarms herself with a fluid movement, and her admittance is interesting to Jonas. His head tilts, and he does the same albeit reluctantly. Someone who disarms themselves so quickly could still be a threat. He swallows again, throat dry from all the adrenaline sifting through his body.

“I wouldn’t parade that around to other strangers. They could take that as an invitation to hurt you even if they are human.” A bit cynical perhaps, but anyone could take advantage of another person if they wanted to try. Luckily for Wren, Jonas isn’t the time to want to spill blood. Funny considering he is a soldier, but she hasn’t threatened him and there’s no reason to stick her with his knife. He wants to protect and save people from meaningless death, not be the cause of any.

The tongue in which she spoke caused for him to squint his eyes and scrunch his nose in thought, and his fingertips instinctively brush the handle of the sheathed knife at his hip. By no means was Jonas fluent in any language other than English, unless one counted horrible elementary level German taught in high school- Jonas thought himself to be better than the Spanish class and he really didn’t want to take French, so German it was- so her words are nothing but a puzzle to him. One he will never figure out without direct translation. He shrugs meekly, frown creasing his mouth and looking defeated and confused. “I… I don’t understand. What’d you say?”

The sole mention of a military base brought chills down Wren’s spine, though it made complete sense. Why go defenceless in the face of the enemy. Still, something about it felt utterly wrong. Was it because one of the soldiers had landed among the survivors’ midst or simply due to their existence, she couldn’t guess, nor did she want to say anything about her concerns.

“I knew there was a reason it was the first time I saw you. Well... you could enjoy some of it while you’re here, I guess...?”

“A military base. I’m a soldier.” She looks around. “Nice set-up you’ve got here.”

“Here is, well, it’s mainly where the survivors stay, but I guess you’re not from this place. Where are you supposed to be?”

“Where exactly is here? Where am I?”

“Well... I don’t have the time, obviously but I’d say around ten. In the morning. But training? There’s no training here.”

“Uh, how the hell did I end up falling asleep here? Shit– I have training today. What time is it? Do you know what time it is?”

It was a barely veiled threat, though it was obvious to Wren she was safe for the moment. As it was, the other girl didn’t attack so far, something that was as promising as it could be in the world they lived in. The brunette before Wren’s eyes kept a fighting stance nonetheless, the machete tightly held, allowing the young woman to be aware she was facing someone who knew how to use such a weapon.

Wren felt as if she was being inspected by an animal, a creature who tried to spot flaws in her demeanour, weak points easy to attack. Inhaling deeply, she bit her lip and tried to stand more tall, to get rid of the nervousness coursing in her veins. It wasn’t a rare occurrence to be told others didn’t want to hurt her, but why mention it while keeping a weapon out.

“I won’t make you do it. I was testing the grounds.”

Dangerous Times | Open

Gia took note that the girl didn’t immediately shoot her and was actually waiting to see what Gia would do. An Other would not do that, it would have shot her already. She heard some thunder rolling in the distance but held her stance and her hand tight on the machete handle. 

The brunette eyed the girl, her green eyes never leaving the girl in front of her once. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Gia said honestly but not putting away her weapon. “So don’t make me do it.” 

There was something comforting in the boy’s words, though evidently contradicted with the knife still out, giving away how he could take her down, had he wanted. Wren wanted to believe him, but everything in her screamed she ought to keep her walls up, to conceal her heart and mind for as long as needed. She hadn’t yet seen a familiar face among the group of people she lived with, and the boy was no different to that rule. 

“You were curious for how long? I was going back to my campsite, with... with the other survivors.”

Nonetheless, the young man kept on uttering words meant to ease her nerves. Slowly, carefully, Wren brought her arm down, eyes still on the brunette. With a quick motion, she tucks the blade inside its hold, before to push it in her coat’s pocket. She would use it later, maybe to hunt or self-defence, she didn’t know yet. 

“I won’t harm you, I couldn’t if I tried.”

Her words were followed by the ghost of a smile, so slight it had passed like a shadow on her lips. A sigh then made her lungs raise and fall. The air tasted like rust, probably due to how she had bit her tongue in between the sentences she spoke. Perhaps she wouldn’t have had to think about being safe or hurting others if she didn’t leave the reservation, and stayed with her mother. The words she was saying were close to how she talked with Abram, at home. Home... What was it anymore? There was no place deserving of being called that.

“ᎰᏩᎠᏰᎸᏗ ᎠᏴ. ᎰᏩᏧ.”

Her words were accompanied with a look of desperation. She needed him to leave her go, at least for now. She needed to go to see if finally that night would bring someone she knew or if she could have some luck with the food she’d get. There was no such thing as luck now, but hope always made days go by more easily.

Dangerous Times | Open

Wren’s hesitant in his sudden presence, even takes a step back to add the distance that Jonas welcomes easily. She makes him think of a skittish bunny rabbit, ready to spring and bolt at the first sign of danger, but Jonas isn’t going to threaten her any more than the sight of the knife already has. It’s there for defense, to intimidate potential dangers, but this new face here seems anything but. Jonas still doesn’t tuck it away.

He flinches, not too visibly, but keeps his eyes met with hers in a steely sort of determination. Even as her hand shakes and Jonas notes her nerves, he feels his own palms sweat a bit, and even his own jittery paranoia is turning his throat to desert sands. “Nothing. I saw your footprints so I followed. I was just curious.” Yes and no, of course. Jonas was following because he’s on a patrol and his title of soldier comes with the heavy task of eliminating any Other he may come across. Has he yet? No, he hasn’t, and he’s not trying to speed up the arrival of that day. It just would have been careless in his position to turn the other way when he had a clue someone was wandering near.

“I won’t harm anyone who doesn’t try to harm me,” he tries to reassure her. And it’s not a lie. The knife is a precautionary action, Jonas isn’t one to jump and see red at the first sight of a stranger. He wouldn’t even if they could be an Other disguised so well under a guise no amount of training can help him see through. Jumping the gun causes premature deaths, and he’d seen too many to want to be the cause of any of what his family suffered.

Jonas never raises his knife and keeps it so that it’s at his side. He does take care to make sure it remains visible. He won’t unarm himself, that would be stupid. Even as her voice falters and hand shakes, Wren could be capable of too many things. She’s not just a random girl he’s standing next to at a bus stop flitting through her smart phone. She’s an unknown face with unknown intentions, and Jonas won’t be so stupid as to assume he’s safe.

The evening slowly grew to frigid temperatures, the bite of the cold reaching beneath all the layers of clothing Wren had on. Some of it came from her raids in abandoned stores, other parts originally being what she wore back in the reservation. Inhaling sharply, the young woman noticed how the air came in shakily, a dead giveaway of how threatened she felt.

If only she hadn’t ventured that far from the campsite she had built that afternoon. Of course, going back would be a child’s play, but only if she survived the current encounter. Things could turn out to be sour, especially given how she was an easy target. With that thought, she realized how she had been holding her breath for a moment, right on time with another human being emerging from the trees.

Wren’s eyes catch on the knife the young man holds, brows rising in surprise, the girl taking a step back, an instant reaction to the weapon. She rose her arm that carried the knife, her hand shaking as she pointed the blade towards Jonas. At that point, she couldn’t know if it was from the cold or due to how she was utterly frightened.

Focus, Wren, focus... You know how to get yourself out of this.

Fluttering her eyes shut for a short second before to open them again, she let her mind wrap around what the young man had shared with her. He’d been following her. Why, she couldn’t know, the only sure thing being how she wasn’t a threat, not like others. Sighing, she proceeded to glance over to her opponent, biting her lip in the process. The way the young man was dressed gave away where he was from, and maybe, she could pull some intel out of him.

“What else do you know? Or you’re told not to share the orders you’re given?”

Dangerous Times | Open

Jonas has been following an unknown person for some time now. Not a long dragged out hour, but about fifteen or so minutes he’s been following shoe prints in the snow. In the time he’s spent training in Camp Haven he’s learned he’s extremely poor in a combat position, but he is a helluva good tracker. He takes into account the age of the prints, pays attention to the detail of the sole and the direction they shuffle in. Now, he can’t guess a shoe size or a possible gender, all he can determine is it’s human. Or well… hopefully not a non-human.

He swallows dryly when he hears snow crunch nearby, the lump stuck in his throat, before he presses on. His knife is in hand as a precaution, he really shouldn’t try to approach anything alone. But, where was the bravery in just running away?

When a branch snaps beneath the weight of his step Jonas feels the blood rush from his face. He freezes, limbs as still as icicles in the bleak and snowy terrain of Columbus, Ohio. The silence made the snap sound amplified, but he so terribly hopes his sudden onslaught of paranoia played that trick on his mind. When he hears a voice Jonas feels that he can only be so lucky. Of course he was heard.

His breath hitches and he steps around the thicket and trees, bare in the dead of winter, and has his knife out on display. It’s not held in a threatening way, but it ready to be used if this individual decides to jump into any form of an attack. Jonas bites down on his bottom lip as he examines her face. “And I’d know you were here for a little bit now.” His voice wavers in a muted panic, but he tries to stand tall and brave now that he’s in her line of sight.

The low tone was surprising, for how it seemed as menacing as the rumble of thunder, rolling over the earth, remnants of the spark caused by poles of energy that were too strong to exist together, them crashing together in a chorus of light.

Everything in what Wren had heard brought the young woman to answer, but she was starting to see a pattern in the appearances of others. Too often, it was hurt first, talk second, but this once was the opposite. Her eyes had gone to the side in reaction to Gia.

“Depends.”

Wren’s reply was short, a contradiction with the storm that took place in her mind. What could it change that she didn’t believe she could survive easily? Maybe being able to use words rather than brawl was to her advantage.

Dangerous Times | Open

After spending time in the wild, distancing yourself from other humans, loneliness always seemed to seep through one’s bones, drowning the calm, too loud to be ignored, too loud to think about anything else but how you miss the people you grew up with, the ones who counted. 

Huffing softly as her boots made the snow crunch beneath her feet, Wren exhaled a breath in reaction to the sound, all too aware she could be seen, or worse. It had happened once, although Wren still questioned why she still was breathing.

Only another noise made her raise her eyes from the focus she’d have on the ground, where she watched her steps as she took them. 

A branch cracking…

She couldn’t know if it would be an animal or another human, or anything else entirely. The best option remained to wait. Wait and observe. Hastily, she slipped her hand through her pocket, taking a hunting knife out, fingers wrapping tightly around the handle.

Maybe it wasn’t the best choice to speak out loud, but with the time being, there was nothing to waste, nothing to lose. Making her best to remove the nervousness and fright from her voice, she brought her shoulders back before to say the words out loud.

“I know you’re here.”

Dangerous Times | Open

After spending time in the wild, distancing yourself from other humans, loneliness always seemed to seep through one’s bones, drowning the calm, too loud to be ignored, too loud to think about anything else but how you miss the people you grew up with, the ones who counted. 

Huffing softly as her boots made the snow crunch beneath her feet, Wren exhaled a breath in reaction to the sound, all too aware she could be seen, or worse. It had happened once, although Wren still questioned why she still was breathing.

Only another noise made her raise her eyes from the focus she’d have on the ground, where she watched her steps as she took them. 

A branch cracking...

She couldn’t know if it would be an animal or another human, or anything else entirely. The best option remained to wait. Wait and observe. Hastily, she slipped her hand through her pocket, taking a hunting knife out, fingers wrapping tightly around the handle.

Maybe it wasn’t the best choice to speak out loud, but with the time being, there was nothing to waste, nothing to lose. Making her best to remove the nervousness and fright from her voice, she brought her shoulders back before to say the words out loud.

“I know you’re here.”

&&. WREN LIN // 19 // "BIRDY" // FC: KELSEY CHOW —

“ but if I’m it, the last of my kind, the last page of human history, like hell i’m going to let the story end this way. i may be the last one, but i am the one still standing. i am the one turning to face the faceless hunter in the woods on an abandoned highway. i am the one not running but facing. because if i am the last one, then i am humanity. and if this is humanity’s last war, then i am the battlefield. ”