[ 129 ]
When the last rumbles of the storm faded, leaving behind the newly-established clan which had adapted efficiently with their surroundings, more and more heads began to poke out. Like small animals seeing if the coast was clear from lurking predators. The warming sunlight pierced the clouds and helped dry the land. People were given the confidence to explore, to return to the patches of ground they had been cultivating in order to grow sufficient stock. Which was followed by children who were untouched by the oppression that went hand-in-hand with Viper's normal day to day.
A week had past since Finch had arrived. Fyre had been more than eager to introduce him to everyone, which Finch had to admit he was the most nervous about. Along with Falcon and his uncle, a handful of old Viper clansmen had followed them across the open plains and to a new home. Some of them recognised his face— or perhaps just from the token in his ear— and held some reservations. Which were effectively dealt with by Fyre, who spoke highly of Finch and his relationship with his nephew.
Even so, there was a noticeable tension when they all ate together that first evening. But Finch remained comfortably situated beside Fyre, who talked his ear off when enthusiastically speaking about their new home and what the future holds. Needless to say, whether it was after that meal or a day or two down the line, those who questioned Finch's motives were satisfied that the young boy wasn't a threat.
Finch, who had been expecting to be chased out of the territory by people wielding pitchforks, was surprised by how easily he fit in. But he did feel the strain when Fyre introduced him to people his own age. Perhaps it was only those young people who could see how weird Finch truly was. As he barely showed any interest in the activities they offered or the antics they got up to.
Fahren had always had to play a maturer role, to make sure he always had his eyes open and scouting for possible danger. He felt that by being placed with the other children, he would be kept out of the loop. Which meant that he would be protected; others making crucial decisions for him. It didn't sit well with him, and he couldn't hide that awkwardness when with the children. In the end, Finch kept disappearing from their group and found himself joyfully exploring his new location.
Though he couldn't recall people's names, their faces gradually grew familiar as he greeted them in the coming mornings as he walked by. Amidst his explorations, he came across an open space which was being used by those who were continuously training. All sorts of different techniques were being honed and trained, which Finch found oddly relaxing being around.
Their position was one furthest from the bustling routine of the rest of the clan. In an elevated position where they could both train and watch the horizon. It was also free from people who would plague Finch with questions regarding his own family and that of Falcon, who many women were most interested in.
Said eye-catcher had been keeping himself busy. Finch felt the withdrawal from the man's absence, the comfort he brought when around him and most importantly, the safety that came with it. He couldn't help but wonder if it was a deliberate act, as Falcon seemed to have disappeared completely. Only on occasion would Finch catch a glimpse of him out the corner of his eye at dinner before he was gone.
Perhaps that was another reason why Finch naturally moved towards the training grounds. But he still managed to miss the man. Finch had lapsed into his own routine since he now lived in the treehouse on his own. Although Falcon's possessions were still housed there. But it was now just Finch and the damned horse.
"You're here again." Was the tone of voice Finch couldn't decide whether to ignore or despise. A broad-shouldered man, much like those he was training alongside, slowly appeared in front of Finch who had taken up his regular position of minding his own business. From spending the last week living in a tree, Finch had adapted well to moving up and down one. So when joining the men who were throwing their weight around trying to take each other down, Finch clambered up a nearby tree and positioned himself comfortably where he could see what was down below, but also what was ahead.
The day after he had discovered this new location, he himself was spotted as well. Everyone knew his face, and more importantly that he wasn't a threat, so they didn't shoo him away nor encourage him to join. Finch also had no intention of starting a conversation as he used this opportunity to escape from such a thing.
But it was a man who looked to be around a similar age to Falcon, who impaired Finch's view. He had no hesitations about popping up in front of Finch and asking him why he was sitting in a tree alone. A good question, but one Finch ignored. But the man— Thorn— quickly made a name for himself as he repeatedly tried to engage him in a conversation. Through the art of harassment.
He leant his back against the trunk of the tree, folding his arms over his chest and propping a leg up. "I heard some whispers again." Thorn announced and Finch immediately rolled his eyes. The man liked to tease him by telling ridiculous rumours, or ones that could possibly be the truth but Finch had no idea who they were referring to.
"Our honourable leader's nephew, the legendary Falcon, has been spotted sleeping underground. He always preferred to sleep away from us all, in his home in the trees to be precise, but now that a certain creature has taken up residence there he has fled to the safety of underground. I've heard that perhaps there's some tension between the little chick and the bird of prey." Thorn quirked an eyebrow as he tilted his head back to look up at Finch.
He was greeted by an acorn hitting his face.
"Your stories are getting more and more ridiculous," Finch admitted.
"But it's the one that made you talk to me."
Finch scoffed, "Because you're well and truly barking up the wrong tree."
"I'm what?"
"I'm worried that you're convinced you can get something from me, by telling me rumours that mostly involve myself."
The edges of Thorn's lips twitched, "What could I get?"
"Something sharper than an acorn?"
Thorn laughed and the deep scar that ran across his cheek crinkled as he did. His laugh was genuine and hearty and showed no sign of embarrassment to his pride from Finch's rejection. But instead of completely laughing it off, he turned to face Finch sitting in the tree and shrugged his shoulders. "You're prettier than most, little bird, but knowing who else has acknowledged your good looks, I'm not going to even risk it."
Finch didn't even have to ask. He felt the weight of the token in his ear, and then the shyness that followed whenever someone mentioned it. He looked away from the gossip of a man who visibly appeared to have seen a fair share of bloodshed. But like most, he didn't hide his scars. Though a chatterbox, Finch got the impression that Thorn was someone who was smart enough to take advantage of a situation if it could benefit himself. That wasn't necessarily a flaw, but it was something Finch felt apprehensive about.
"Then what do you want from me?"
"Says the one who spends most of his time hiding from people."
Finch narrowed his eyes, "Did you ever think that it's perhaps this absence of people that I wanted? I'm not used to many people surrounding me, asking me questions."
"Your avoiding people looks to me like you're waiting for someone. Someone I may have mentioned earlier." Thorn replied with an irritating confidence to his voice. He didn't pull his punches, looking Finch directly in the eyes as the pair silently battled. Finch glowered, Thorn grinned.
"I'm not a child who craves protection."
Thorn shook his head lightly, the expression on his face never changing. "I never compared your feelings for him as that of a child's to their parents."
A second acorn abruptly hit him.
"If you keep your head buried in other people's business for too long, then by the time you pull it out to focus on what's around you, it may be missing." Finch's sour expression morphed into a sweet smile. As the man down below got lost in confusion, trying to figure out Finch's meaning, the young man continued to speak and distract him from the minor threat. "But you're not completely wrong. I'm here today to speak to someone, but it's not Falcon, it's you."
"Me?"
"Even though you talk too much, you do seem to be one of the best with a bow and arrow."
Thorn understood immediately and crossed his arms again. "You need me to hunt something?" He wondered. This was a usual thing for him to be asked by individuals within the clan. There was an abundance of food within the confines of the trees, but nothing compared to the nutritious meats. They were forbidden to hunt broadly on their doorstep, so they had to travel outwards if they wanted to return with larger quantities of prey. But killing a handful of birds or widely-populated animals that roamed around wasn't forbidden— so Thorn was the man to ask. But that's not what Finch meant.
"I need you to teach me." Finch showed he was serious by climbing down from the tree. He usually escaped from conversations with Thorn by waiting for the man to turn his head or lose interest. Now he stood right in front of him and had to tilt his head back just a fraction.
"Well aren't you cute." Thorn daringly pinched Finch's cheek. His hand received a sharp slap in return.
"Which is why I need to learn. Obviously I'm not going to suddenly sprout muscles like you people, so I need to learn how to defend myself in other ways. We have no idea how long we're safe here for, and when the time comes I don't want to be a liability."
"You have a token from a deity, I'd wager you'll be fine."
"I don't want to have to rely on anyone, let alone an unpredictable god."
Thorn regarded him silently for a moment. As if wondering if it would be in any way beneficial for him to become a teacher. Eventually he shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "Fine, little bird, I'll teach you. But you should start with learning how to defend yourself using those pretty hands."
"I already know how to do that," Fahren blurted but recalled it was from his last life. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "I just don't have the muscle to use what I have learnt." Clearly the taller man wasn't convinced as he stepped forwards and grabbed Finch's wrist firmly.
"Real life is very different from memorising it in your head."
Finch maintained eye contact before snapping his hand out of the man's grip by bringing up his other hand. As soon as he was free, he used his offending hand to lock onto Thorn's exposed thumb and twist his arm to an unnatural angle. It jutted his shoulder forward and would create a spasming in the nerves down his forearm. Though Thorn would, in a short time, be able to use his other arm to defend himself, it wouldn't be before Finch broke the man's wrist.
This was understood by both men.
"I'm impressed," Thorn revealed as he exposed his teeth in a smile. In the swift action, Finch had grown closer in order to potentially put his weight behind snapping bone, but as that wasn't going to be the case, the pair now stood close together just to one side of the training area. Where others paused to look with curious eyes.
Thorn, as someone who would take advantage of any situation, intended to make Finch's blood boil by leaning forwards. He thought it would startle the young man who he guessed hadn't had much in terms of physical contact with anyone in his young life. But the green eyes which once looked fresh as the lush vegetation growing around them, grew turbulent and his own hand was used against him.
Finch corrected the angle of the appendage and, by using his thumb as a handle, slapped the man's own hand against Thorn's cheek. It elicited a sound which to Finch was as pleasant as the birds' morning song. His smile was the complete opposite to Thorn's sour one.
With a charming look on his face, Finch looked up at the man. "Try that again and I'll shove your hand up somewhere else and hopefully it'll get stuck." His personality truly didn't match his face. If anyone else heard him talking like that, they would certainly not flock to ask him questions and try to befriend him.
But Finch knew the importance of fitting in in this setting. The power of many. He'd had three lifetimes to come to terms with his own flaws. So he knew how to manipulate a situation or two. And just like Jakob, who had come to be a loyal friend, Finch hoped that Thorn's similar personality would be more than a coincidence. Jakob needed tough love, which came in handy when Fahren had frustrations that needed venting.
"I won't do it again." Thorn sounded as if Finch's suggestion was disgraceful. But with that out of the way, the two sides calmed down and their audience were left even more confused. The pair looked like they were happily talking, then they were scowling, then they were fighting and now they're back to smiling at one another?
They tried to refocus themselves, but couldn't help spying on the pair as they seemed to be comfortably talking privately. When Thorn picked up a bow and arrow, they wondered if he was going to shoot the young boy who had been acknowledged by a deity. But fortunately that wasn't the case, as Thorn seemed to be teaching him instead.
As the day stretched on, and the men vigorously training began to slow down, Finch also came to a halt. In pure frustration he tried not to snap the bow over his knee— not that it would break. Usually a quick learner, Finch found himself struggling to grasp the basics. He missed his throwing knives that were perfectly balanced for him, or an assault rifle which over the years easily became his second favourite weapon of choice.
Pursing his lips, he grumbled about being too weak to even pull back the string on the bow. Movies made it look so easy and Fahren had a newfound hatred for them.
As impatient as each other, Finch and Thorn separated for the day before they could latch to each other and tear each other apart. Finch was continuously cursing himself and everything as he made his way back to the heart of the clan, and where food was likely being prepared. He took a different route, not because he was adventurous but because he got completely lost. It was something else to grumble about along the way.
He vaguely recognised some features, but to avoid being caught by the usual suspects who talked his ear off, he stuck to walking through the long grass. His vague assumption that a certain direction would lead him back to his temporary home was proven wrong when he stepped out of the long grass and ended up in a location that hadn't been on the grand tour.
Dotted throughout the forests that dominated their setting, were dummy buildings as Finch nicknamed them. They were built with the intention of being destroyed if they were attacked. No one lived in them, instead the clansmen and women were living underground or in the treehouses like Finch was.
Underground, where natural rock formations had altered over a period of hundreds of years because of it being an old route where water once flooded through, were expansive and the best case scenario for keeping people out of sight and completely safe. Even when Finch had been shown around, he hadn't noticed the underground tunnels that he had been directly standing on top of. It allowed them the opportunity to be able to retreat underground and not have to risk their lives at all.
Finch was looking around at the more elaborately built dummy houses when his foot snagged on a tree root. His blood momentarily ran cold as he fell forward and hit the ground hard. He could only groan loudly as he felt the ache spread throughout his body. Lifting his head, he looked ahead of him, his body having comically fallen with limbs spread out. The force impacting his face which had gone unprotected.
Somewhere in whatever dimension, in whatever timeline, Jakob was cackling.
Finch felt mentally drained in that moment. He didn't have the energy to move himself from the pathetic position. So he stayed there for a few minutes— completely aware that there was a slow trickle of warm liquid coming from his nose.
"So much for the protection of a god." Was what Finch wanted to say, but it left his mouth in a series of garbled groans.
"Finch? What happened?" A deep yet alarmed voice echoed in his vulnerable ears. He blinked a few times and spotted the tall, dark and gorgeously handsome man with the painful-looking burn on the side of his face.
Fyre had appeared from a different direction, heading towards the dummy building. When he got closer, Finch noticed the man was profusely sweating and looked a little worse for wear. But who was he to talk?
"I fell on my face.." Finch practically slurred as his tongue hurt. Perhaps he'd lost more blood from his nose than he'd originally thought.
Fyre looked like he wanted to laugh, but stopped himself. His complexion still looked shaky, but it didn't stop him from reaching down and helping Finch up and off his face. Being lifted so easily by two big strong arms was what Finch only dreamed of lately. The needy part of him, which greatly came from Fahren himself, was rearing its head.
"Here, this will probably be easier." Instead of putting Finch down on his own two feet, he was hitched up into the air and into the man's arms like a bride.
Finch didn't want to get blood on the man, so he tilted his head back. Which meant the blood was rushing to his head and making his bruised brain even more confused. When they stepped through the threshold, Finch began to wriggle in protest. "I'll get your carpet dirty.." he lamented.
Fyre had no clue what a carpet was, but he found the young man amusing to say the least. As did the few others who were inside this house, who all stopped mid-conversation to see their leader returning with a wailing, bleeding and undoubtedly familiar young lad.
[ TBC ]
[ A/N: Just thought I'd give a bit of insight~ if you think Finch/Fahren is getting more aches and scrapes, more anxieties and doubts. This is all intentional. Hence System's warning: +1 difficulty. Unlike previously, where it's been pretty obvious what his goal is. In this world, it's currently blurred. He's got a vague idea, but is uncertain and that makes him/ as an anxious person/ even more of an anxious mess who struts around like a headless chicken :') ]
[ A/N 2: Our irritatingly sexy god has returned in Chapter 131– which coincidently happens to be on my Patreon! If you wish to check it out and support me. The link is on my profile if you're wanting to take a peak <3 ]