"We're reaching the edge of the forest, another hour or so." Mateo sniffed the air, the scent of winds from the plains was lingering faintly through the trees.
"Drat. I really hate going through no-man's lands. I wanted to go south," Devon grumbled.
"Towards the Wolf territories? I think that's an excellent idea," smirked Mateo.
Devon turned round, pulling a face, "Not that far south, it's just, south is always where my Dad was heading..."
"When did he die?" Mateo asked.
"He didn't," Devon replied stiffly. Mateo opened his mouth to enquire further. Devon seemed pretty open to talking to him, maybe he would find out something useful or at least forge a connection, but he looked up and saw Kashvi was hanging back, glaring him into silence.
They made camp that night on the edge of the forest overlooking the vast expanse in front of them. Mateo heard strangled howls in the distance, too far away to tell if they were coming from wolves or Chimeras. Either way they were lonely howls, they didn’t come from packs.
The humans couldn’t hear them and continued chatting to each other obliviously. They hadn't lit a fire as it would be too visible from the plains. They ate raw pigeon, the meat was chewy and tasteless, indicating that the bird had probably been old.
Mateo had been tied to the tree behind him. He watched as the three humans talked, prompting each other's memories to the time before the bombs. Mateo remembered more than them, he was older and half of what they were saying sounded like they read it in books or saw it in wishful dreams.
"I'm pretty sure no one ever had to eat pigeon," grumbled Devon. He was sat cross legged running a long grey feather through his fingers.
"You're lucky I was able to kill some pigeons tonight," Kashvi retorted, "I don't know what we'd find to eat on the plains otherwise."
"I still have a rabbit in my bag as well," Ruby added. "So we should be okay, if the information you got from those travellers is correct, crossing the no man's land should take only a couple of days."
"That's two days too many," Devon grouched. Mateo could smell he was nervous rather than angry. He watched as Kashvi leaned into him, pressing her side against Devon's reassuringly.
"We've got Ruby now too - she's a trained hunter remember," Kashvi said.
Devon nodded, "Yeah and an Alpha wolf - his smell will put off Chimera right?"
Mateo raised his eyebrows, that was completely not true, if anything, he would attract them. He watched as Ruby gave a quick shake of her head to Kashvi. Kashvi squeezed Devon's hand, murmuring, "Sure, his smell would put anybody off."
Devon chortled drily and stood up, "Bathroom break, excuse me ladies."
"Need a hand?" Kashvi called after him as he started to walk away.
"Only if it's to help retrieve my dignity," Devon snapped back, but he was smiling. He walked past Mateo and slipped on the bulging mass of roots that broke the earth's surface at the base of the tree.
"Shit," he bit out and his hand clamped down, finding Mateo's shoulder to steady himself. Mateo saw Kashvi and Ruby tense but he remained motionless. His face impassive as Devon righted himself using Mateo's frame, his bony fingers digging into Mateo's bare skin.
"And...I'm upright," Devon announced cheerfully as he found his balance and let go, wandering off through the trees.
Ruby relaxed her grip on her crossbow. She didn't glare at Mateo like Kashvi but instead shot him a look as if she was studying him somehow. Mateo had heard that her family were hunters before the bombs, he wondered if their families had ever crossed paths? If they did, there was most likely bloodshed.
***
"There was a woman named Ginger," Kashvi was talking as Mateo opened his eyes, he must have drifted off. He could hear the steady heartbeat of Devon sleeping close by. Kashvi was sat, leaning back against a tree talking to Ruby.
"She claimed us as part of her coven after the witches took us, marked us. They could sense we had the spark inside us. Devon's dad, he tried to stop them but it did no good. And Ginger...god she was beautiful, I remember she hugged me after I got tattooed, I was crying and scared and she smelled of winter spices and Christmas cookies. She was warm and felt safe, she said she would take me and Devon under her wing, teach us how to be true witches."
"What happened?" Ruby shuffled slightly closer.
"She turned out to be the wicked witch in the fairytale," Kashvi huffed a dry laugh. "She made us her slaves, treated us like dirt, she was worse to Devon - kept taking his blood for spells. I was so angry, I found myself in such a rage all the time. I would steal her books and manuscripts when she wasn't looking, trying to find out how to access my own power." Kashvi paused and ran her hands up her arms, the air was starting to turn chilled.
"When she found out - she became furious, she beat me and locked me in a room on my own for a week. Ironically that's how I discovered it."
"It?" Ruby questioned.
"My magic. Trouble was it was a little bigger and brighter than the coven had expected, I had potential - sure, that's why they wanted me, but when they realised that I might be something more, that I might be a threat to them. They cursed me, stunted my powers - and Devon's for good measure, that's...that's when he was blinded, although the spell was meant for me. We ran away before they could kill us and now, now I guess we're still running. Every settlement we reach turns us away because we're witches, but we can't exactly go to witches for help."
Ruby swallowed, "That's terrible Kashvi, I'm sorry."
Kashvi looked up, "I haven't heard anyone say they're 'sorry' for quite some time. I guess the word kind of lost meaning after the bombs, there was just too much to be sorry for."
"Well I mean it," Ruby replied, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from Kashvi's face.
"I know," Kashvi whispered back.
Mateo looked away, the moment was uncomfortably intimate. He glanced over to Devon's sleeping form, the clouded irises hidden under closed lids and thick lashes. Mateo realised what that scent was that hung over the younger boy and Kashvi, the one that smelled acrid like soured cream – it was desperation.
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