Iron Rations

Yule Connor- Heading Home

After breakfast, we decided to do our own thing. The not-so-faint explosions in the background shouted it's not safe to go back to the village, so we're basically struck here. I didn't like that idea too much. As I perched on a high-enough tree branch, watching explosions of orange and gray smoke spiraling in the air, I could feel immense pain. i feel like a bird watching her nest get destroyed. It was a horrible, hollow feeling, and there's nothing I could do about it. 

As i said, we were doing our own thing. I perched on a tree branch, watching my village being destroyed. James decided to check out the forest. Thom resumed sulking. Shiv flew off. Lyall was staring at some far-off distance, his usually sharp gaze replaced by something softer, as though he was watching lovers instead of explosions. I thought this quiet, calm face made him look better, like the grimness and the sadness from his face was being washed away. He actually looked good, like this. Wait. What did I just say?

It didn't matter though. Lyall can't hear my thoughts.

Lyall suddenly looked up, and I met his eyes. He flashed me the same wolfish grin he showed me last night, and I had a sudden desire to want to talk to him. I didn't know why, but somehow, that grin made me slide down the tree and sit cross-legged opposite him.

Lyall didn't seem aware of the effect of his grin, though. "Why'd you come down?" he asked, confused.

I decided to lie. "Nothing, just feel my bones getting cranky and decided to try to out the soft soil instead of the, uh, hard tree branch." I'm not a terrible liar.

Lyall's eyes said he knew I was lying, but decided to ignore that part. He took a pouch strapped to his belt and opened it, revealing a cluster of blueberries. I suddenly remembered the blueberry bush back home, and it took every will inside me not to cry.

Lyall raised the pouch slightly. "Blueberries?"

I nodded, got one and popped it into my mouth. It tasted just as sweet as the berries back home.

For a few minutes, we were quiet, simply eating blueberries. I don't know about Lyall, but I guess he's getting uncomfortable with the fact I'm not talking, by the way he's fidgeting. Have I got chatty enough lately for Lyall to think that's my normal demeanor?

I turned to the woods surrounding me and I suddenly remembered my parents. They were hunters, like Lyall. I wondered what would happen if I'm a hunter. I could almost see it: me, wearing some kind of jacket and carrying a knife like Lyall, stalking through the woods like a predator, my brown eyes lit up like a cat's, stance feral and ready to pounce any moment. That sounds more exciting than he lifestyle I'm used to.

"Your parents..." I turned to Lyall, who was muttering something. When we met each other's eyes, he said, "Your parents were hunters, right?"

I was shocked. "H-how did you know?" I stuttered.

"My father said he and your parents would often team up to find some game when food is scarce," said Lyall. His ears perked up. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I replied.

"Your brother- does he hunt?"

I wondered how Lyall got this idea. "I think he's more of a gatherer than a hunter," I said. "I mean, he goes to the woods, yeah, but only to get apples. No one in the family hunts anymore ever since my parents died when they were attacked by-"

"-by a bear," Lyall finished. "I heard that from the folks in the trading place," he explained to my curious expression.

"Why did you think James hunts?" I asked curiously.

Lyall shrugged. "He acts like a hunter. He could follow orders and all that, and he's got the patience and all the stuff that makes a hunter a hunter."

I didn't know Lyall even noticed that. I never noticed those qualities of James', but sometimes, I do notice that he walks like he's carrying a knife in the woods.

Before I could reply, James suddenly appeared. He looked pale and horrified. I immediately knew something's wrong.

"What?" I asked urgently, springing to my feet. Lyall did the same.

"They left the village," said James.

"Can we go back?" James looked at me as though I just said "I eat socks for breakfast."

"It's not safe to go back," James said firmly. "When the machines left, all that remained of the village is a pile of rubble. And they might come back."

"We're not going directly!" I retorted. "Maybe we can just watch from a safe distance and all that!"

James's gaze made me close my mouth. But the argument didn't stop.

"The girl's right. We have to go back."

Thom was suddenly beside me. I couldn't believe my ears. Thom Grant is siding with me?

"We have to go back," Thom repeated. "There might be stuff left that we could use."

"You're not in the position to join in to the argument," Lyall said coldly. It was evident he wasn't siding with anyone. He's basically the barrier that keeps us -me, James and Thom- from shouting at each other. But right now, I guess he decided to talk.

"You don't have the authority to tell me what to do," said Thom. "We're going back, Hound!"

"Do you want to end up dead like your parents?" Lyall shot back.

I thought Thom would shut up like he always did when someone mentions his family's deaths, but I was wrong. in fact, Lyall's answer might've ignited Thom more.

"I don't want to end up dead," said Thom. "And I'm going back because of that reason. There might be something in the village which I, or let's say, we could use. We're going back."

Thom and Lyall stared at each other, a quiet battle of wills. James was quiet too. He backed down. I stepped back too.

Soon, Lyall spoke up. "Fine. We're going back. But if any of us dies, it's Thom's fault."