FORESIGHT and SCOPE: BOOK TWO

C H A P T E R S I X T Y-N I N E

FERN'S POV

I may have jumped the ion cannon on my enthusiasm.

I found Hunter, along with the others, assisting Shep and a group of civilians in the first steps of rebuilding Lower Pabu. I was astonished by the efficiency and adaptability the locals acted upon despite losing practically everything. They worked from the bottom up, and within the next full moon, they—we—had restored the seaport to its former glory.

Wrecker, in particular, took great pleasure in applying his enhanced skill to unbury and haul salvaged stone from its sunken state. Tech assisted by utilizing the Marauder to transport supplies, tools, and heavier equipment from anywhere on the island as necessary. Hunter, the leader that he was, worked alongside Shep in managing several coordinated teams. Omega and I resorted to handling the minor, yet important task of tending to Lower Pabu refugees: distributing food, fresh water, and blankets; cycling volunteer lodging within Upper Pabu (this way residents rotated their homes and everyone who can has a chance to provide service); and aiding whatever other needs were requested.

There were no words for my awe. The feeling was indescribeable as a stupid grin spread across my face anytime I spotted my squad working diligently. It was as if they'd found a purpose outside of being a soldier, helping this community rebuild around them...

And in the evenings, I spent my time writing my memoir in the courtyard underneath the willowed tree. Tech, as always, insisted in offering consultation in proofreading and editing each and every entry. Meanwhile, Hunter acted as my recliner, in which I situated myself between his propped legs while he leaned his back against the tree's thick trunk; his fingers casually caressed over my spine or twiddled the end of my braid between his fingers. Wrecker voluntarily occupied Omega and Lyana, playing tag or tossing them over his shoulder and providing a service of carrying each of them on top. Their rowdy laughter filled the air.

It were these little moments...mixed with the big ones...that I believed could—would—last forever.

One evening, I finally managed to snatch Hunter away. "Let's go for a walk down to the seaport." I said, hiding my elation behind a simple smirk. I had been ardently impatient to get a moment alone with him for weeks now, and while our daily endeavors were a productive distraction, I could hardly swallow down my urges any longer.

"You're not wearing your headband." Hunter pointed out as he offered me his arm. In fact, this was thrice he had mentioned it. He didn't know this, but I planned on never putting it back on again...

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THIRD PERSON POV

The descending sun's rays stretched over the island like a warm blanket, its shades of rich-reds mixed with the dim-blues and soft-yellows washing the alabaster buildings and the rustling trees with a gentle, golden glow. The air was full with the softest chatter from civilians retiring for the evening after another hardworking and productive day, ebbing and flowing like the restful ocean below. Fern and Hunter strolled down the gradual slope spiralling around the sea wall. She tightly hugged his arm with the one linked with it. The closer the two clones reached the newly-restored sea port, the strong salty aroma cleansed their senses. The harbor was vacant; the only sonority enveloping them was the swooshing of the cresting tide and spurshing of waves lapping up the sea barrier. Fern could not imagine anything more romantic...

Once they reached their destination, she released Hunter's arm, waltzed across the base of the port, plopped herself atop stacked crates, and crossed her legs with her upper body poised in excellent posture. The sea breeze swept through her loose curls framing her face. The sergeant exhaled through his nose as his eyes locked on her. His amorous trance was only severed when Fern noticed and lightly chuckled, her nose scrunched teasingly.