Falling Skies

Twenty

"Where the hell am I?"

December's eyes blink open, a small headache forming in the back of his eyes as he raises a sore arm to greet it.

"That's what I want to know."

The voice has his body shooting upward, a slight smile falling over him at the familiar sound.

Abrahm only slightly turns his stiffened body to face December, a small smile on his lips to match December's glowing expression. "Don't look so excited to see me, D." He laughs though it turns into a cough halfway through.

December glances around as much as he can, his neck too stiff to move much though he gathers a general feel of the place. All around them is an off white canvas held up in the middle by a thin metal pole between the two boys. Their bodies are both covered by the same down blanket and they appear to be laying on the same material. It doesn't stop the stabbing sensation of the grass from grazing their backs though, or comfort them from the hardened dirt ground.

"The last thing I remember is dying." December says to no one but himself, the words barely a whisper but they catch Abrahm's attention nonetheless.

"Our throats being split open to be exact." Abrahm grumbles, fists digging into a spot of grass that the blanket doesn't cover. "Which is probably why my neck feels like I'm dying."

December doesn't acknowledge him, knowing better than to get Abrahm riled up without a way back home that doesn't depend on the thing he wants to kill. Besides, with Ryder along with them there isn't any harm that can come to them. The two are practically invincible.

With one swift push he's off the ground and exiting the canvas tent. Immediately, December places a hand over his eyes, the natural sun stinging in a different way than Haven's blinding lights. Glancing around, he takes in the small campground with its dying fire and a second tent placed somewhere in the distance not far from his own. Must be where Ryder is...

"Ryder's out on a walk."

The voice has December physically jumping, a chill still residing in his spine as he glances next to him, the wide lavender eyes of Subject A1 staring back at him.

"I've been waiting on you two to wake up." He smiles, head cocked to the side as he absentmindedly twiddles with a strand of grass. "It's been pretty boring just sitting outside your tent."

"You've just been sitting out here?" December quizzes, the expression catching him off guard.

Closing the tent flap behind him, December takes a seat next to Wren, his body a cautious few feet apart though the fae doesn't seem to take notice. The creature is too busy playing at the blades of grass, twirling each one around a waif finger until it finally snaps from the earth.

Wren smiles mostly to himself, dusting the destroyed foliage off his Haven sweatpants before turning back to December. "I've been out here since last night if it makes you feel any better." He chuckles at December's wide eyed stare before pulling at an unknown flower, a deep aroma emitting from it when the stem finally snaps.

It's the same scent that fills the rest of the clearing. A vague aroma of sweetness mixed with the dry earth, a scent that stings the nose when coming too close. December can't help but crinkle his nose at the scent, a hand absentmindedly falling over his mouth to block it.

The world around them lies awake all too early, the earth giving off a slight hum as small insects make their way to work and the breeze rustles each leaf into a simultaneous melody.

A noise from the distance breaks December out of his trance, eyes darting towards the depths of the woods before his body draws itself closer to Wren. It's more of an instinct than anything else, the way the wind finds itself blowing chills down his spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing erect as his body tenses, ready to run.