Predator (DWT x OC)

94

The war begins to loom alarmingly closer with each day, as the tunnels stretch out like snakes under the surface of L'manburg, as baskets fill with arrows and knives and swords. Our house becomes something of a half-way house, soldiers and Dream's men passing through, collecting their share, helping me with chores. 

I start to learn the names of the people who will die for this, and that's the worst of it. 

Dream tells me that the tunnels have almost reached the coast, but it's become a point of contention between the two of us. I say we should attack now, we have no use for fully constructed tunnels, but he wants to complete the project before launching anything.

There's no trust, just two angry people with the whole world at stake. It never ends well. 

I think that he wants the tunnels finished so there's an escape hatch, a security measure, something for him to come back too when the dust settles and the bodies are buried, something for him to win back. 

He just says it's because all of Schlatt's men will be gone, once the Badlands construction workers are officially cleared and back home. 

Dream can sense the suspicion rolling off me in waves, and it's pissed him off so much he hasn't come home for two days. It's either that, or yelling, and the silence suits me much more. I know I should be trying harder, should be swallowing my pride and mending the bridge, but I'm so strung out in perpetual panic that I don't have the energy left to care. 

Jacob, a kid, who's probably only a year or two younger than me, carries crates filled with dried goods into the storeroom. He reminds me of Tommy, and he makes me feel like a century old. I smile at him as he passes. 

"That's the last one Miss." He comes back into the living room, brushing the mop of red hair off his forehead. His pale face is littered with freckles and acne scars.

"It's Rosie Jacob, I'm not fifty years old." I roll my eyes. "Thank you for that."

"No worries, anything I can do."

I want to ask him how he ended up working for Dream, a soldier in an army, a boy destined for war. I want to tell him to run. I want to tell him it will be okay. I want to ask him if he's as scared as I am, if he even knows enough to feel like that. 

Instead, I blurt out another question. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"  

Jacob blinks. "Oh no Miss, thank you for the offer but really I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"It's fine." I shake my head dismissively. "Dream won't be home tonight so I have an extra serving, it's the least I could do to thank you."

"It's my duty to help, you don't need to repay me."

Duty. I want to scoff. I want to tell him he doesn't owe anyone anything, especially not me and Dream, that his only responsibility should be leaving while he can. 

"Indulge me."

We sit at the dining table, I'm at the head and he's in the second chair on my left. I push my food around on my plate, but Jacob seems to be keen on annihilating his dinner like it's liable to fly off his plate at any moment. 

"Do you not get fed?" I laugh, watching him flick his spoon so aggressively it splatters sauce on his nose. He swallows, trying to force the food down so he can answer. 

"Not like this. No wine either."

I broke into Dream's wine cellar a few days ago, a miraculous discovery. I tried to think about whether he'd actually be mad at me about it, and then I tried to think about whether or not I really cared.