Chapter Eighteen: For Every Deed, A Reward

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There was a nip in the air, an occasional occurrence out on the plains. Some said it was caused by the Great War, others claimed the Ascendancy was trying to fix the weather patterns but was over-doing it. No one knew the truth however, for there was a lack of equipment required. Cold breezes whipped around the city, somehow countering the hot rays of the sun. People closed all their doors, and some shuttered their windows, the chill too much for them. 

It seemed to be a land of extremes. There was no middle ground between the intense heat, or extreme chill but Matt paid it no heed. He knew how to adapt, and he was comfortable sitting by the fire they had built, his leather coat keeping him protected from the biting air. Emma was nestled beside him, shivering. Matt had insisted she take his coat, but she had refused, claiming she wasn't cold. Matt knew the truth, and wrapped his arm around her to at least provide some warmth. He knew she appreciated it by the way she nuzzled in closer, still too proud to admit she was cold. 

They had found an isolated spot and created a circle of large stones collected from around camp to keep the embers from escaping. It was a neat little fire, and provided enough respite from the cold. It was better than the thin burlap tents anyhow. Flint seemed to enjoy it as well, curling himself up a few feet from the dancing flames. The shadows that danced along his face and body made him appear as some sort of shapeshifting beast, like some sort of wolf  out of a fairytale meant to scare children.

As the evening turned into night, Matt could see other fires begin to dot the camp, their soft glow giving the grounds an eerie orange glow. He felt a weight on his shoulder as Emma rested her head upon it. It wasn't long before she was fast asleep, her arms tucked against her body. 

"Figured I'd find you guys out here," Matt heard Bill say from behind him. 

Turning, Matt watched Bill sit down beside him, holding his hands out towards the fire. 

"Don't feel like you fit in yet?" Bill asked, cocking his head to left in the way he always did when waiting for a response. 

"We fit in well enough," Matt replied, staring into the flames. 

"Then why are you so far from everyone else? From the unit?"

"We like the quiet,"

"Sure ya do. I know no one trusts you but they are just paranoid. Give them a chance and soon you'll be part of the family,"

"What if I don't want to be part of the family?"

"You're gonna be living here for a long time, might as well get acquainted,"

For a time Matt was silent, unsure of how to answer. Bill was right. He was going to need friends if he was going to succeed. He'd need connections. But at the same time he was apprehensive. The people of Foundation were a secretive bunch and while Kestrel was a good speaker, he seemed rash and aggressive. 

"I suppose it couldn't hurt," Matt conceded, still watching the flames dance and sway.

"That's the spirit!" Bill replied, clapping his friend on the back. Emma murmured something unintelligible and shifted her position slightly. Matt figured it was in response the noise. He raised a finger to his lips and looked at Bill who mouthed oh.

The wind howled once more, sending a shiver down Matt’s spine. He wasn’t used to many nights outside during such weather as he and his family would usually hole up inside their little house to take shelter. 

Pulling the edges of his jacket higher over his ears he continued to watch the flames twirl, letting the radiating warmth lift his spirits. He was exhausted to say the least. Losing the game of capture the flag was disheartening, and he had hoped to impress Kestrel. If he could get in his good books then maybe he would be put on more missions, giving him a higher chance to find his father. Or a higher chance of death, he countered himself. 

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