VOLATILE (I) : peter pan ouat

When a Freeze Happened

The first thing I notice is Johnny. He spots me from across the clearing, but turns around instead of talking to me. It's better this way though. The less he attempts to communicate with me, the better I feel about the whole situation. Which is to say, the less he tries to talk to me, the less it feels like I'm actively avoiding him. I'm still trying to get over that night.

As much as I hope his attempted murder was a onetime thing, I can't shake the feeling it's not. I also can't shake the feeling that maybe the Native boy didn't die in the fire during the Hunt. Maybe he died in Johnny's hands.

The table fills with food and I look up into the sky. Dinner, which feels odd. I must have been on the beach for quite a while. I grab some food, walking back to my tent. I eat it, realising the burning pit in my stomach wasn't nerves, but was hunger.

As I'm finishing the last of my corn, a food I haven't had the pleasure of eating here yet, Max comes in, accompanied by Thomas.

We quickly exchanges hellos, and I walk out. I realise I haven't drunken water yet today. It's a bad habit of mine, drinking so little. I walk over into the cooking tent, and grab a canteen. There's only one pocket in my cloak, so after my thirst begins to fade away I head to the clothing tent, quickly finding a belt that fits me. I shove the canteen on the side, and then sheath my dagger on it.

I leave the tent, heading back to my own.

I walk in. Max is pale in the face, sweating once again. He leans over, and vomits on the floor.

That escalated quickly. I can't leave my own tent for more than five minutes without something disastrous happening.

"Was there a bee?" I ask, rushing to his side.

He's allergic to bees. Deadly.

Thomas doesn't answer, he never does. I help Max up again, lifting him away and out of the tent. I carry him a few feet, until Robert sees us and pulls him out of his hands. James helps support Max's weight on his other side.

"Some of the meat was raw." Robert tells me, shifting under Max's weight. "We've got another boy vomiting in the tent."

"Are we all going to get sick?" I ask. Am I more worried for me or for Max?

James shakes his head. "That was from the food at lunch. Thankfully, it seems only one of the chickens wasn't cooked fully. There might be another kid who gets sick, but so far it looks like it's only two of them."

Robert and Thomas walk Max off to the Medic tent. I debate following them, before I decide it's getting late. There's probably already a few boys in the tent. Adding another body will just make it more difficult for Robert to work.

I decide to visit Max in the morning, when he is feeling better. Until then, I'll have to sleep.

9

The sun has yet to rise, and as I peek around, I realise I am the only person up. This is the perfect opportunity. I am alone, so I sneak into the clothing tent.

I strip down and hose myself off, using a bar of soap intended for clothing and not for people. I'd rather smell like detergent than dirt, and the chemicals in the soap will not harm my skin. I turn and find clean clothes, then quickly toss back on my cloak and head outside.

It's dark out still, and cold too. White mist fills the air, wrapping around the campsite. My knuckles are turning darker, but now the colour is a result of the cold rather than the bruises from fighting. The weather here normally feels like that of autumn; cool enough I can wear a cloak without sweating yet warm enough I could wear shorts if I wanted to.