Over the next hour, Jethro tried to remain productive by pretending that nothing at all had happened. He quickly realized that this just wasn't feasible, as he caught himself looking over his shoulder at that girl on more than one occasion. He'd known Yvonne for as long as he'd been alive, and he hadn't known her to be the sort to play around with baubles of the old world. It just didn't make any sense to him how she'd got a hold of such a thing. He wanting nothing more than to ask her countless questions about it, but he felt it was too soon to do so. As far as etiquette goes, it's not polite to bash someone's head in, sleep in their bed, go through their belongings, and then have the gall to ask about something found in their kit. 

The work was slow, but he was eventually able to get all of their shared provisions packed and ready to go. He watched Yvonne carefully as he threw a packed rucksack over his shoulder. She didn't seem too upset. Granted, she was clutching the side of her head and scowling, but the boy had certainly seen angrier people. He picked up the rucksack he'd arranged for her and headed over to her. She was resting near the edge of the camp on a stump, still clutching her head.

"I've packed-" he paused momentarily, deliberating on the many ways to bend the truth "our  things, and I've got your bag kitted out. Are you ready to get going?"

"Don't hound me!" she snapped back. Jethro slightly winced at her remark, but said nothing as he gingerly held out her pack to her. She glared at it, and for a brief moment Jethro thought she might take a swipe at it, but she snatched the pack from his hands and began to strap it on.

"I'm sure you've figured this 'un out already, but we haven't got much in the way of food. Don't expect breaks. An' if I catch you foolin' around in my bag once you go an' waste all of yours, you can bet your fat arse that I'll break all of them fingers in a hot second." she grumbled to him as she went about strapping on the buckles. She continued to mumble indistinct curses as she finished readying herself. He wasn't quite sure what she was trying to say, but he was nearly certain that they were all directed at him. He chose to ignore it. 

"So er, where's our first destination?"

"The bulwark."

"We're just heading straight there? No landmarks to guide the way."

She looked up from the strap and buckle she was fumbling with to stare at Jethro. Only one expression could be discerned and that expression was contempt.

"Jethro, why do you think it never rains?"

"Because of the Bulwark?" he tentatively responded. He thought back to his time spent in the barren fields of his aunt's struggling orchard, where he'd often see clouds miles away, just beyond very tips of the shale wall they called the Bulwark. It always lingered near the very top, but never went over. Like a lingering curse, the sands of his village rarely, if ever, tasted more than a few meager drops of rainwater.

"Yeah? What makes you say that?"

"Because I can see-oh." He stopped himself just as he realized what direction she was taking this in, but she was unrelenting.

"Because you can see it, gobshite! Where the hell else are we ss'posed to go?"

He nodded, less out of agreement and more out of wanting to end this entire conversation. He stood there in silence as she fumed. The look on her face said she had more to say, but she spoke not another word, for her work was done.  So they stood in silence. She eventually went back to adjusting her baggage, and he went back to crushing ashes between his toes. He had had enough of this whole arrangement and had already begun to harbor some regrets, but he knew he couldn't go back. He imagined the shame he'd feel if he went back to town, battered and bruised with tears of bitter defeat streaming down his cheeks. He didn't want that. He'd rather take a verbal beating from Yvonne any day then go back home empty handed.

Eventually the silence became too much for Jethro, and he finally piped back up.

"We going?"

Yvonne's automatic response was to sneer, but to Jethro's surprise, she saved her curses for another time.

"Uh-huh. Lemme go on ahead, you get behind me. As long as you don't go an' do something stupid, I can lead us outta here." She pushed past Jethro and took a few steps ahead of him before her legs buckled. She would've fallen straight to the ground had she not managed to brace herself against a tree. Jethro watched as she stumbled around, white-knuckling the branches as she went. Any trace of anger had since left her face, now replaced by sheer and utter confusion. Despite some feelings of bitterness, Jethro went on ahead to help her. He could only so close to her before an arm shot out and blindly pushed in his general direction.

"Nn, dun' touch... me. I- I'm fine." she barely managed to slur out. Jethro tried again to help stabilize her, only to get the exact same reaction. He found himself wanting to do something  to help, but didn't know what. Would he feel her wroth after she'd regained her bearings? Would he make things worse? Indecision gripped him as he watched his companion stumble about. A dark part of him actually enjoyed watching her struggle, but then again, he remembered -- this might be all of his doing. At that moment, the guilt rushed in like a flood. He knew he had to do something. Against her every protest, he moved in close, and offered his shoulder to help steady her. She hesitated at first, but accepted it, albeit unwillingly. He looked around the forest clearing for somewhere to set her down before deciding upon the stump she'd sat against just minutes past. As he helped her over to the stump, her speech became less and less unintelligible.

"I-I think It's c-clearin' up." she barely managed to stutter out. Jethro stopped for a moment and looked over to her. She looked back at him with inquisitive eyes, then began looking around him until she wasn't looking at anything at all. Her legs gave, and her body went limp. Seems she went out like a candle-light. He gently set her down to the forest floor, and began efforts to rouse her -- though it was for naught. It seems that no matter how hard he shook her, she wouldn't come back to him. Fear crept into that campsite as he started to consider the worst. He checked her pulse -- fine. He put the back of his hand against her forehead -- no fever. Other than a nasty welt on her head, she seemed to be fine. He couldn't understand why this was happening! He thought that he hadn't even hit her that hard! None of this was going as planned for Jethro. Part of him wanted to stay here and camp another day, but he feared the inevitable verbal backlash that would result that after she woke up. Against all odds, he suddenly found he himself to be the leader of this expedition, a prospect that worried him greatly. He looked her limp form over, and nudged it one last time for good measure, and let out a deep sigh. He knew what he had to do, but desperately wanted to find some excuse to avoid doing it. With no other option, Jethro hefted her up, slung her on his back, and headed off into the same direction she would've gone in.

Jethro had no idea how difficult it was to carry around a human being until now. The work was nothing short of grueling. Yvonne wasn't a particularly tall girl and had a lithe frame, but it made no difference -- she was still a real pain in the arse to lug about. One thing Jethro didn't miss however, was her barbed tongue. He smiled for the first time that day just thinking about how he actually preferred carrying her lifeless form around rather than having to listen to her lash out at him. He didn't understand why she was doing it either! Jethro had known Yvonne for his entire life. She was rough and incredibly blunt, but she never seemed this abrasive. One could expect a tease or two from her, but nothing of this magnitude. These thoughts helped him trudge through the woods. He had to take frequent breaks, but he was making decent progress. While quite mean about it, Yvonne was right about one thing; their destination wasn't exactly the hardest object to find. If one were to peek up through the branches, they could just barely make out the shale wall, towering off into the distance. That was the case for Jethro anyway. Even though he grew up around that thing, it's sheer height awed him every single time he saw it. It seemed like an insurmountable dream. And here he was, headed straight for it.