Tall trees and wild undergrowth. Bird song. Wind whistled through branches. Pine cones littered the ground, all shapes and sizes. Light mist lingered in the air. Water droplets trickled lazily from leaves. Remnants of a storm. Gentle rays of sunlight bathed the old forest in a warm, welcoming glow.

An ethereal refuge.

A young boy and his father walked along a winding dirt path through the woodland. It was overgrown with ferns and nettles. Undisturbed nature. Following his father, the boy dragged a much too large, gnarled stick behind him. An uneven line trailed behind him in the dusty earth.

He refused any help with his task. Stubborn to a fault.

So focused on his mission, he didn’t realise until halfway down the path that he was alone. Frantic, his eyes darted from left the right. No sign of his father.

“Dad?”

Nothing.

The trees surrounding him turned to ominous shadows. Branches became claws. Slicing. He ran, tripping over an exposed root. Dusty earth plumed. His hands and knees were skimmed. Muted pain. Before the forest could close in on him, he heard footsteps. Dull thuds. There must be monsters in these woods. Panic rose in his chest. Abandoned. He wanted to cry. He fumbled for his fallen stick, ready to fight.

Out of the shadows, his father emerged. “Cameron, don’t dawdle-” His eyes focused on the injuries. “You really do have two left feet, huh.”

“I thought you,” Cameron sniffled, “left me.”

“Of course I didn’t.” His father hoisted Cameron onto his shoulders, making radio static noises. “Commander Cameron. Are you ready for your next mission?”

“Where?” Cameron asked, his pain all but forgotten at the promise of adventure.

“A top-secret, hidden place.” His father made sure he was secure. “Ready to depart?”

“Yes!”

“Roger that.” His father chuckled at the enthusiasm. “Over and out!”

Precariously balanced, Cameron screamed with delight. It blended with his father’s enthusiastic aeroplane sounds and laughter.

Carefree.

Eventually, they reached a small clearing surrounded by towering pine trees. Cameron’s father placed him at the foot of the tallest one.

“And here we are.”

“Whoa…” Cameron was in awe of the majestic tree. To him, it seemed impossibly tall, reaching beyond the heavens. “Can I climb it?”

“One day, bud. When you're bigger.” His father put a hand on the trunk. “What secrets do you think this tree keeps?”

“Hmm…” Cameron tapped his chin, deep in thought, “I dunno.”

“Nice work, detective.” His father chuckled, patting the bark. “It’s stood here for hundreds of years, come rain or shine. Imagine what it could tell us.”

“Must be lonely.” Cameron’s sadness switched to excitement. “Maybe it needs a friend!”

His father nodded. “I’m sure it would love to have you as a friend.”

Grinning, Cameron hugged the tree. His arms stretched around the trunk as wide as they would go. “I’ll come back every day. You’ll never be lonely again.”

His father ruffled his hair. “That’s my Cam…”

----------------------------

“Cam!” The inhumanly loud shout echoed through the flat. “Get your butt out of bed!”

Half-asleep, Cameron rolled onto his side. Too far. He fell to the floor with a loud THUD. Not the first time he’d done that, sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. With a groan, he opened his eyes. Instantly blinded. He abruptly shut them again. Colourful shapes danced in the darkness.

Mornings… he hated them. Another day to struggle through.

Eyes still closed, he laid there. The wooden floor felt cold against his cheek, the forest’s warmth soon forgotten. He tried to recall the details of his dream.

Anything.

The height of the trees, the sweet bird song, his father's voice...

Hazy memories.

“Seriously, Cam!” The voice called again. Louder. “You’re going to be late!”

“I’m awake!” Cameron shouted back, wrestling with his blanket. “Give me a minute!”

He rolled onto his back, staring at the yellowing ceiling. Arms spread out, he followed a large crack running from his bed to the door. It had been there ever since he moved in. One day, the upstairs neighbours would fall through. Crumbled plaster. Until then, Cameron would continue ignoring it.

No point worrying.

Shifting onto his front, he shakily got to his feet. With a yawn, he stumbled across the floor, cursing under his breath when he stubbed a toe. Through the pain, he glared at the offending item. He moved the pile of crumpled clothes covering it. His heart stopped.

A dusty guitar case.

With shaky hands, he unclipped it. Inside sat an acoustic guitar. Nothing too fancy. Not cheap, either. He plucked the lowest string, wincing.

“Out of tune.” Sighing, he put the guitar back and clipped the case up, covering it again with a shirt.

Out of sight, out of mind.

It took mere seconds to reach the flat’s claustrophobic kitchen, a stone’s throw from his room. Everywhere was. Cameron didn’t mind, though. Tight spaces felt safe; open areas still made him anxious. Danger. Living out of a backpack for half a year prior was probably the culprit. Barely scraping by. Not the kind of experience he could forget any time soon. Not in three months.

Someone was already in the kitchen, making breakfast. Rosa, Cameron’s older sister. Spatula in hand, she turned to face him.

“Ah, so you are alive.”

Cameron scratched the back of his head. “Even the dead would wake up with you shouting, Rosa.”

“Maybe I should become a professional alarm clock and necromancer,” Rosa smiled, then held out her hand, “and you’re my first client. So, pay up.”

Playing along, Cameron turned out his empty pyjama pockets. “Do you accept pocket lint?”

“I’ll just add it to your tab.” She brought two plates to the table, pointing. “Eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“I slaved over a hot stove for at least five minutes.” Rosa crossed the kitchen, clamping his jaw open and shoving some toast into his mouth. “Eat. It.”

Narrowly avoiding choking, Cameron shoved her away. “Jesus, are you trying to kill me?”

“The opposite, actually.” Rosa frowned at his lanky frame. “You’re practically skin and bones.”

Sighing, Cameron sat at the table. Scrambled eggs and toast. He poked the egg with his fork. About a year ago, before his dad died, Cameron had a healthy appetite. Grief ruined that completely.

He could still remember the derpy ketchup faces his father drew when they had eggs...

“I know microwave scrambled eggs aren't the fanciest food but…” Rosa shrugged, taking a mouthful, “...could be worse.”

It had been worse for them. Much worse.

He ripped open a salvaged packet of ketchup - an ancient relic from their six months on the road - and squirted it on his eggs. Piling them onto his toast, he took a big bite. It was on the rubbery side, but not bad.

“See, not so hard?” Rosa sipped her black coffee, pointing at a plastic container on the side. “I also made lunch.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Cameron muttered, stabbing his toast. “You’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

Rosa tried to do everything herself. He appreciated it but wished she would rely on him more.

“But, dear brother, I want to. Besides, I have the day off tod-” On cue, Rosa’s phone buzzed. She checked it, groaning. “So much for that…”

“Fabian calling you in for an extra shift?”

“Yeah.” Rosa shoved her half-finished breakfast in the fridge. “Maybe if he wasn’t such a taskmaster, staff would stay longer.”

Cameron crossed his arms. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“Cam, he’s not that bad. Brash, yes, but his heart’s in the right place. He pays better than most and I get first dibs on leftover food.”

“Guess I’d miss his pancakes,” Cameron admitted.

“Well worth any hard jobs.”

While she left to get changed, Cameron played with his food. He didn’t feel hungry. Moments later Rosa returned, her hair thrown up into a messy bun. It was impressive - almost scary - how quickly she could get ready. A master of work-related quick change.

“Don’t forget to grab this week’s food rations. And, if you feel extra helpful, maybe tidy this place up later.” Rosa hurried out of the door, blowing a kiss behind her. “Love you!”

Cameron was finally alone.

----------------------------

Ah delicious groundwork, lol. Gonna meet our other good boi next time!