The day everything changed started with Gino Morton's headache.

I was the last one on watch. The night was already lightning into dawn when I awoke. Usually, Gino had to shake my shoulder in order to wake me; this morning, he did not.

My eyes wandered over our campsite: the faint lumps of discarded baggage, the silhouettes of my team blurred by shadows, the yellow eyes staring back at me. 

Shirka huffed silently and stood when I did. Her lithe body dipped into a stretch and, even though I couldn't see it, I knew her tail was curling about her.

A faint scrape of heel against earth grabbed my attention. 

Gino Morton was leaning against a lumpy tree, hands covering his face. 

"Gino?" My voice was a whisper, my footsteps light on the mossy ground. Shirka was completely silent, however, and I only knew she was next to me when my fingers grazed her soft fur.

He didn't raise his head.  "Headache." It was all he said, words muffled behind calloused fingers.

I fumbled for my canteen, almost dropping it, and then crouched next to him. I almost placed my hand on his shoulder but decided against it at the last minute, and settled for holding out the canteen. "Here. Water might help."

"Thank you." He made no move to grab the water. He didn't move at all.

Lowering my hand and setting the canteen next to me, I wondered if he had headaches often. "Gino? Would sleep help?"

"Not really." He sighed, lowering his hands. He squinted at me. I could see the muscles on the left side of his face bunching, his eyelid snapping open and shut. "Nothing is going to help right now, Shae."

I frowned. "Why? What's wrong?"

There was a brief pause.

"I've been... suppressing my twitch." He didn't sound embarrassed at all, though he was hesitant to share.

His twitch? Exactly how unobservant am I?  He'd seemed normal to me. I was about to reply when his nose scrunched and his head tipped subtly to the side. 

Oh.

"Does it hurt?"

"My headache does." 

The light was starting to chase away the shadows and I could see the shiver in the muscles beneath his skin.

Gino was watching my reaction.  I don't know what he was looking for, disgust or pity, but I felt neither. And I was sure none of our other group mates would look negatively at him. 

He shrugged one shoulder. "It's going to be very obvious the next day or so. The muscles will get tired."

I shifted my legs, sore where a rock dug into my hip. "You've always had it?"

There it went again: his head tipped to the side, nose scrunched, eye winked several times. It looked uncomfortable.

"Yes. Since I was young." Gino rearranged himself so he was leaning against a tree.

My eyes surveyed the campsite, remembering they were supposed to be keeping watch. "Aren't you a soldier?"

"I am. Sharpshooter." His sigh was a bit mocking; as if he was laughing at himself. "I'm supposed to be a sniper but they doubt my ability to act independently. They like to keep an eye on me."

"I don't see how being surrounded by people helps your accuracy." I glanced back at him and saw his head tip to the side again. "Um, I really don't mean this rudely, Gino, but—"

"How can I be a shooter if my eye literally snaps shut without me telling it to?" He looked tired, one eye winking as if it knew what Gino had said. "I can suppress it for a long time. I've been actively fighting against it since we set out as a group. Some days I turned my face and hid it, but overall I was successful in hiding it."

I opened my mouth to ask another question when a noise grabbed our attention.

A branch snapped. Leaves rustled.

I was on my feet in seconds, hands grabbing the first thing I could. "Lennon T. James—"

Brown blurred past me, paws scrabbling against the soft earth. A yip and a bark woke most of the crew, who was scrambling upright and getting ready to defend themselves.

The animal had thrown himself at the legendary explorer, tackling him to the ground. It was a dog, large but slender, and was wriggling with excitement to see his master.

It took us all several seconds to relax.

Lennon T. James chuckled, large hands stroking the sides of the animal. "Hello, Decimus. Missed me?"

Note: Lennon T. James has a pet dog... called Decimus.

The dog howled as if in answer. His tail was wagging faster than a hummingbird's wings. He licked Lennon T. James' cheek, chin to temple.

"What is that infernal noise?" Wade Lyong muttered, stretching as he sat up.

Everyone was awake now— Mitch already pulling the last of the rations from our packs, Nattaniel assessing the status of his weaponry, Ella folding her blanket, Gino was drinking the water I'd handed him.

Lennon T. James planted a kiss to the dog's head and stood up. "We need to go."

"Can you stop saying that?" Lyong had lain back down, arm over his eyes. "Also, why is your journalist holding a book as if she was going to throw it? Was she on watch? Shae, you're even dumber than you look."

"It's Miss Burrower to you," I snapped, slipping the journal into my satchel and making sure I'd collected all my things. "And I could hit something with a book quite decently, thank you very much."

"But you said I should call you 'Shae.'" Lyong still hadn't moved. "And that journal would snap."

I took my portion of the rations from Mitch. "My permission has been rescinded until further notice, Mr Lyong."

"I'm not calling you Miss Burrower," Mitch said, hands on the straps of her pack and eyes on the animals by the explorer's side.

Shirka was playfully swatting at an excited Decimus, who nipped at her and danced around her large paws. The dog tripped over Lennon T. James' pack, and the adventurer plucked it out of the way. He strode over to his friend and pulled him to his feet by the collar of his jacket.

"We'll eat as we walk." Lennon T. James gave his friend a little shove. "We'll reach the river. After we cross, we'll be able to scavenge for food."

Ella came to stand next to Mitch and I, surveying the rest of the group. "Since we only had dried meat, I haven't eaten in two days."

Mitch shot me a bewildered look and I couldn't stop the confused expression on my face. She didn't say anything further, shifted away when I reached out to lay a hand on her arm. My hand awkwardly hovered in the air.

"Ella, are you feeling okay?"

She shot us a look. "Of course."

It was Mitch and I who did not understand, it seemed, and was being ludicrous for expressing concern. I shifted my attention away. I was determined to do my job better than I had the past few weeks. Wade Lyong was not going to notice things I had missed.

We set off.

Lennon T. James first, leading us and guiding Wade through the forest with a hand on his shoulder. I was close behind, journal in hand. Mitch was next, closely followed by Nattaniel who had not wavered in his determination to do his job. Then, Ella, who had her head tipped back and was staring at the treetops. Gino was last.

Note: Lennon T. James definitely knows where he's going.

He was following an invisible path through the trees. There were no markers he identified, that I could see, and I wanted to ask how he knew. I knew that wouldn't lead to answers, however, so I did not ask.

Note: Lennon T. James is a very private person -- he doesn't volunteer information.

The air clung to my skin. Birds were chattering, louder than before, and I felt the contention in their voices. We were trespassing. 

Moss cushioned our steps, but they were loud anyway, and the trees seemed to grow taller. The sound of water reached my ears. It was steadily growing louder, filling the voice conversation left and washing away some of that awkwardness.

No one was making small talk.

Lennon T. James whistled. It was a sharp note, clear and followed by a low trill. Birds quieted, for a heartbeat, and then the flutter of wings thundered throughout the treetops.

Decimus loped ahead. He must've been behind us, for he passed me by and almost caused me to trip over my own feet. In a blur, he was gone, disappearing behind broad leaves with scarcely a sound.

Shirka, however, stayed beside the adventurer.

"Careful." Lennon T. James glanced back at us. "We are approaching the river."

Wade's reply was quick. "I'm sure we all have eyes, Jamie." 

I bit my lip against the sarcastic response and followed our leader. Mitch was now close to me, muttering about bug bites, and when I glanced back, I could see the little blighter on her neck. 

Her hand crushed it herself.

"Don't tell Ella." Her whisper was followed by a grin, fingers coming away from her neck smeared in blood and guts. The little insect had been as big as my thumbnail, and I did not recognise it.

My next step sent me falling. My ankle twisted uncomfortably, my balance upended and a shriek torn from me as I kept falling. Eyelids slammed shut, hands flung for some support, and my breath left my lungs. 

Someone grabbed my hand.

The movement almost jerked my arm out of its socket, pain wrapping around my shoulder and shooting down towards my fingers. I was practically dangling.

I opened my eyes, meeting Lennon T. James gaze in time to see him raise his eyebrows. My one foot was braced against the earth. When I looked down, it was to see a river barely a few feet away from me.

It was a rushing, roaring mass of water. Drops sprayed my face as a wave hit the side of the embankment a bit too hard, and then I was being hauled upwards.

As soon as my feet were on stable ground, Lennon T. James let go, and Mitch was there to stabilize me. Her amber eyes were wide, skin almost as pale as mine, and between my stuttering heartbeat and gasping lungs, I was warmed to note the beginnings of a proper friendship.

Gino Morton gave me a reassuring smile and a nod. Borys Nattaniel clapped my back, which almost sent me back over the edge. Ella Siwatskie clasped a hand over her heart, tipped her head to the side, and gave me a blinding smile.

Wade Lyong raised a sharp elbow. "I amend my earlier statement: it seems like only some of us have eyes."

I paid him little attention.

Note: Lennon T. James has quick reflexes and doesn't seem the type to revel in being a hero.

Indeed, he was staring at the river, voice steady as he said,  "This is the River Zonn. And it will take us straight to the village." 

Village?

"We need to cross."

A beat of silence. 

"Here?!" I asked, seeing no bridge, no stepping stones, and no boat. Other questions could wait: my ankle was throbbing and the water looked ready to drown us.

Even though Lennon T. James turned to face us, his eyes skipped past our gazes and up into the branches of the trees.

"Right here." 

🙞

author's note

I'm sorry this is taking so long, guys!

things will start picking up, now.  I'm really excited to rewrite the next chapters with the whole crew included -- it's going to add a whole different dynamic.

thank you for reading! please let me know some thoughts/critiques/ideas if you have a sec!

<3 klara