The breeze rushed past Cynthia's face, enticing the droplets of sweat to fall. The best times to hunt were also the most likely times to be hunted so Marcel agreed to only take Winston out when it was safe. Winston was adamant that they return to the same location they visited, with all the ducks and long grass. Marcel disagreed and took them to a further section in the same part of the bush.

Closing her eyes, Cynthia listened to the whoosh of the wind, the birds' chirps, the rustling leaves. Sometimes it was hard to believe that life carried on after all the atrocities that had befallen others. When she reopened her eyes, Winston ran about the bushes. He ducked into the soil to check for critters and traced the tree's bark carefully.

"Are you ready to hunt today, young man?" Marcel asked.

"Do we have to?" Winston asked without taking his eyes off a caterpillar inching its way up the tree. That surprised Cynthia

Marcel kneeled down to Winston's level. "Son." Cynthia shifted uncomfortably and scrunched up her nose. "If you want to take care of yourself, your mother, and I, you need to learn these skills."

"He's a child. The only things he needs to do are clean up after himself and stay positive."

"Cynthia," he placed a hand on Winston's shoulder, which she fought herself not comment on. "If we do not teach him these basic skills, he will struggle to support himself in this new world."

She placed her hands on her hips. "I'm his mother, I'll support him until he's ready to do this on his own."

"Cynthia, I know you want to protect him, but I assure you I know what is best for him."

"No offence, Marcel," the name snaked its way through her lips. He flinched at the harsh tone. "But when it comes to my son, I call the shots," she emphasized to get him out of thinking this was part his responsibility.

"I am just trying to set an example for him. Boys need role models and he can learn from me, because of his father's passing and all," he whispered the last part.

Cynthia chewed her inner lip to keep her choice words inside. "John was there for eight years to help him grow up. He hasn't even been gone for one now. No one is stepping in to take his place," she sniped lowly.

Marcel sighed and ran a hand over his brown hair. "I am not trying to replace him, Cynthia." He made uncomfortable eye contact after speaking her name. "You close your heart and mind to those around you so easily."

"I have my reasons and you have yours. If anything, you're the hypocrite regarding how you treat Olivia."

He muttered under his breath and took off in the other direction. Winston suddenly took interest in a pile of leaves. Shoot, he'd been listening. She knelt down beside him to find the vibrant leaves, though most were green and brown. Winston picked up a bright yellow one and placed it to the side.

"Why are you mad at Mr. M?" came Winston's soft voice.

"I think he's trying a little too hard to be someone he isn't. And I don't like him forcing you to hunt either if you're not ready."

"I..." Winston crunched a brown leaf. "There's just so much blood." His hands trembled. "On my fingers, my shoes." Cynthia wrapped her arms around him. "And his eyes, Mom, I can never forget his eyes. I see them at night sometimes."

"Whose baby?"

"Dad's."

Her chest tightened like a corset forcing out her final breath. She shook with tears. She should have known John was too good to spend much time in their world. With him mountains became hills, and he always knew what to say and do when life had her scared or furious. They would never hold each other again, they'd never stand in Winston's doorway again whispering happily about the day, and he'd never see the boy he was so proud of accomplish so many of the feats that he'd motivated his son to achieve. 

"Mom," Winston's worried voice called, but her mouth and throat were too choked with tears. "Mom?"

"I miss him too, baby," she croaked out. "I miss him every single day."

Winston wrapped his arms around her side, and together they sat with the grief they'd trapped inside for far too long. Whether Marcel saw them or not, he had the good sense not to intervene. Once Winston's tears and shaking stilled, Cynthia reined in her own, although she knew that the well wouldn't run dry any time soon. 

She wiped away some of the tears on his cheeks and kissed the top of his head. "No more hunting, alright? We'll go back and if you want you can work in the gardens with Peyton and the others instead." She'd get out of Marcel's male role model clause that way.

Winston picked up an orange leaf to go with his yellow one and smoothed them both out. They used to post them onto paper and use the odd-shaped ones to inspire drawings but they lacked both the glue and paper. Winston found a section of dirt where he traced lines with a stick until he came up with the image of a T-Rex. He handed Cynthia the other leaf.

"Dinosaurs today?"

Winston nodded and passed her the stick. "To help fight off the bad guys."

"What bad guys?"

"The ones that Gunnar and everybody went to fight."

Cynthia set the stick down and searched his brown eyes. "Where'd you hear that?"

Winston shrugged. "Everybody's talking about it in really angry voices. They must be really scary bad guys. What did they do?"

With a sigh, Cynthia ran a hand through his tangled curls. She'd be picking forest bits out of there tonight. "Baby, they're not so bad. You don't have to worry or wish for T-Rex. They're just other people who need food and water same as us. Sometimes they can be a bit mean when two people want the same thing. You know how you and Peter sometimes fight during games."

"Then why was everyone so scared and sad. They'll be fine, right?"

Cynthia bit her lip. "We can only pray that they will be."

Winston raised his chin toward the lonely leaf and gestured to the stick. "What are you drawing, Mom?"

She drew long curving lines in the sand. Winston came closer and sat tall to see over her shoulder. "An airplane? A boat?"

"A pterodactyl. Otherwise T-Rex will be lonely out in the woods."

Winston smiled and took the stick to draw a big grin and add sunglasses to the winged beast. "They're a good team. Pterodactyl can fly us all away on his giant back while T-Rex uses his super strength to keep them away."

"Great idea. Hop on and we'll go."

"To the greenhouse!" He threw his arm forward, his hand still clutching the stick.

Cynthia got on her feet so she could carry Winston through the woods. As he clung to her back, she couldn't help but think that he was the same weight now he had been over a year ago. She'd grab an extra portion for him tonight.

In the greenhouse, Peyton was planting a few seeds in small containers. Cynthia quickly explained her plan to Peyton who was on her side. He sent Winston off with one of the younger workers to check out the green van they were starting. Cynthia grabbed a handful of seeds to help out.

"That doesn't sound right, Cynthia. He shouldn't be inserting himself into your life or trying to control Winston does."

Cynthia squished the mud and it got stuck under her fingernails. The sensation helped melt away some of the tension. "That's what I've been telling him. He won't have much of an excuse if Winston spends his time here, and I'm performing my nurses duties."

"Happy to help," he said with a forced smile.

Cynthia used her index finger to bury the bean seeds. "How are you doing with Amelia gone?"

Peyton's hands stilled and he looked up at her slowly. His eyes were lined with dark circles and his cheeks a bit sunken. "She just got here." His eyes flickered down to the wood table. "You'd think after being apart so long she'd want to stay or even put up a fight to join the team." He sighed. "She just said yes, Cynthia. Do you think she wanted an excuse to leave?"

Cynthia gave him a weak smile. She hadn't gotten the best impression of Amelia since her return. She did seem a bit more hardened, but Cynthia hardly knew the woman.

"She might still be harboring some resentment toward the ones who kidnapped her. When something traumatic happens to someone," she paused and met his eyes, "there's no telling how it will affect them."

His hand trembled by his side and he nodded. His gaze carried over to the far corner of the room where a bucket of soil sat. "She won't talk about Lily." Tears welled up in his eyes.

"Peyton, she might be grieving differently."

He set the shovel on the table. "I just wish she could be as open as you are about John."

"I have to be, for Winston and myself."

"But she acts like we never raised a child together. Like Lily was a friend we lost contact with long ago or something." Salty droplets fell into the dirt. "She was our daughter!" His eyes wandered back to the bucket of soil.

"Is Lily here now?"

Peyton closed his eyes and nodded. His shoulders slumped forward. "Every day."

Cynthia breathed in deeply. She had very little experience working in the mental health field. "We can talk about if it'll help. I want to do everything possible to make this easier."

He brushed his dreads out of his face with the back of his hand. "I don't want to stop seeing her, especially if Amelia won't talk about her."

"You know it's not healthy-"

He stood taller suddenly. "But what is? Nothing is normal or the way it should be. My marriage is a wreck. Your family was ripped apart. We get just enough to survive while the temperature works in our favour. It's only a matter of time before a storm or that other crazy group comes for us. I'll enjoy my comforts while I can."

Cynthia walked off toward the back door to get some fresh air. Her chest heaved up and down as the air felt like ice with each breath. Only a matter of time... How would she protect Winston and herself or Vita?

"Mom!" came Winston's high voice. He ran to grab her hand and drag her to a dented van with one window and nearly clear plastic over the ones that hadn't survived the storm. "Check out the green van. It's where all the baby plants go to be born." He opened up the passenger side door and urged her to poke her head in. "This one is a tomato, lettuce, corn, zucchini."

Cynthia smiled. "Very cool."

"Feel how hot it gets! Like a plant sauna."

Her body shook with laughter and she wrapped her arms around her son. He was always around when she needed him the most. She placed a kiss on the top of his head and he wiggled his way out of the embrace. "Mom, not in public."

"You're still my little boy. I'll love you how I want to." She kissed him on the cheek and he made a show of wiping it off so she tickled him until he got an uncontrollable case of the giggles.

Shoes cracked on the gravel. Peyton stood in front of them. "I'm sorry... I'm trying."

Cynthia nodded. Letting go wasn't easy, but she wanted to make sure that he didn't get lost in his own vortex of grief. Their colony couldn't lose someone who could grow their food, nor could she lose his impartial support.