There is a beast in the forest. It feeds off the silence, because every second with inaction, is a moment that it grows stronger.

"Show me something," Flo begins, looking up at Alvaro.

They stroll through the town. They've been walking for hours and hours, and though they have both grown tired, neither of them have mentioned their sluggish condition. They ran into Maverick as they left, and let him know not where they were going, but simply that they were running away, if only temporarily. Now it is morning, and they both have no regrets.

Flo stumbles a bit, still drunk off the liquor they borrowed from Hubert. She falls on to Alvaro and practically bounces off of him.

He laughs at her. "Did I ever tell you that I was in a gang?"

Hours ago, he did. He practically screamed it from the rooftops actually.

"No, don't tell me things," Flo instructs. "Show me something."

"There is nothing of mine here except the gun, and we buried that weeks ago," Alvaro rolls his eyes. He widens them for a second, but says nothing to Flo.

Flo crosses her arms over her chest. She huffs out a breath and turns around to look at the sun, creeping up over the horizon. "Well, I've shown you all there is of me. You've seen the house that belongs to our awfully rude neighbours, and you've seen me sew. Not much else to me as of now."

"Does Bev like her glove?" Alvaro raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips.

Flo leans into him and shakes her head back and forth. "Does Maverick like the way you look at him?"

While he did invite in the conversation, Alvaro does not want to dwell on his and Maverick's history. While it is quite obvious to him that Maverick feels something for him, he can't tell where the disgust ends, and the love begins. After all, Maverick is one of the oldest of them all, and homosexual tendencies become less controversial with time.

"I know what I can show you," Alvaro gestures for her to follow him.

Together, they make it to the church steeple. The front doors are locked. Unfortunately, Alvaro lost his lock picking gear in the water when he first arrived in Alaque. So, rather than enter, they sit together on the church steps.

"I was never particularly religious," Flo says, but sits down. "I got the idea that God would not like me for who I am."

Alvaro shrugs. He doesn't think that God likes him very much either. God loves Alvaro, obviously, but loving and liking are different.

The church door opens behind him, and Alvaro stands up. Flo follows after him until the two are facing the man, unsure if they are going to be let inside.

The priest is holding a broom. He brushes at them until they step off the staircase, and slams the door behind him.

~~~

Tim had followed them into town, a few hours after the pair had left, but he had never gone into town before. Not without Flo. And so, he finds himself lost, turning past farm after farm, and by the little shops with no end in sight.

Hubert spots him out the window. He hadn't been able to sleep again after Alvaro and Flo's arrival. Instead, he peered out the window, hoping that they would come by once more. Or perhaps, hoping that they wouldn't. Hubert is still trying desperately not to care for the others. Especially not Clara.

When Hubert sees Tim, he grabs his coat and heads outside. Hubert is still fully dressed in his pyjamas.

"What are you doing here?" Hubert demands. If it were anyone else, Hubert would grab Tim by the wrist and drag him inside. After all, the town is dangerous, and while Alvaro can hold his own, Tim cannot.

Like Tim, Hubert is a murderer, and Hubert shows people like him no mercy.

"I..." Tim has no idea why he came, other than to try and win back Flo. With his charm, Tim had thought he could do anything he wanted. Girls would fall at his feet. Now, he's lost everything. It is hopeless. "I just..."

"Get inside," Hubert points at the door, his voice harsh.

Tim nods curtly and does as he was told. He walks into Hubert's house and nearly trips on the uneven floorboards.

He doesn't know how to make small talk and doesn't imagine that Hubert would like it. The Frenchman's eyes are bloodshot, and his brow is furrowed. Nothing seems to please him.

"I just came because I wanted Flo to forgive me," Tim admits.

Hubert shakes his head. "Can you forgive yourself?"

Tim blinks a few times. How could he forgive himself? How could he ever think of himself as a good person again, when he has killed someone? "No."

"Then you can't expect anyone else to either," Hubert says. He turns around to stand over top of Tim. "You pushed her off a cliff, right?"

Tim nods slowly, but he looks around in case Hubert has a weapon. He is so small, and so easily trapped. His only option was to pick on the only person weaker than him.

"Well," Hubert continues. "I've strangled someone to death before. Go ahead and tell someone, because no one will believe you. After you do something as violent as murder, the only option was to run away. Find somewhere to start anew. Because trust me, you'll never deserve forgiveness. And you'll never get it. Your best course of action is to disappear."

Tim shakes his head back and forth. His arms tremble. He sidesteps around Hubert to find his hand around the door handle. "Where can I go?"

"I don't know," Hubert answers. "And I don't care."

As he leaves, Tim has an idea.

~~~

Mickey is mostly alone. Only mostly because he can hear Adwin's soft breaths in and out, as the boy sleeps in from days of hard labour. He is only mostly alone because he can feel the weight of Ivy's corpse on his shoulders.

He knew not to trust Tim.

It was Mickey that carried Ivy from the water up the river. It was him that defended her in front of Hubert, and it has always been him to protect her. Ultimately, he failed her.

Mickey doesn't like that someone died that he knows. It was expected in the war, but war and murder are two different beasts entirely. Though you never want to die, Mickey and his allies always knew it was a possibility. They weren't ready to lay down their lives, but their circumstances were tumultuous.

Despite the time travel, things were supposed to be calm now.

As Mickey finds himself thinking of his dead colleagues, his breath begins to rise. Dense and jagged, like the craggy rocks by the beach where Ivy's body splashed (and was unmade). Mickey feels the panic begin to rise. His spine tenses and his shoulders shutter, and oh God.

It's a shock.

As Adwin stirs awake, he hears the harsh breathing. He pulls himself out of bed, and looks over at Mickey, watching as the man shakes. When Mickey's body gets tenser and the breathing stops, only to hiccup out every few seconds, Adwin bites his lip. He counts the seconds in between breaths, which were once back to back but are now spreading further and further apart as Mickey bites down and tries to fight it, tries to hold his breath. Each is thirty seconds apart, and Adwin is still standing there.

If Mickey keeps going, he's going to breathe himself unconscious.

Adwin moves over to Mickey's bed. He knows it's not his best move, because Mickey does not like him, but it seems to be the only option. Adwin looks at Mickey, whose eyes are closed.

"Breathe," Adwin offers. He doesn't quite understand what is happening, whether it is a possession or something much more human, but he doesn't ask. All he wants is for Mickey to breathe.

When Mickey shakes his head, Adwin stands. "I'm going to get Clara."

Mickey doesn't get the opportunity to shake his head before Adwin is out the door.

He finds Clara sitting near the entrance, bathing in the sunlight. She has a bucket with her, but is taking a break from the tedious task of hauling water to and from the woods. Rather than force herself onward, she looks up at Adwin.

Then she sees the sweat on his forehead and his furrowed brow.

"Whatever is the matter?" she asks.

"Come quickly," he insists. "It's Mickey."

Clara rushes inside, pushing past Adwin. She goes over to Mickey's bed, and kneels down next to him. She wipes away his hair, which is plastered to his head.

"Mickey," the sound is more air than voice, more pause than pressure. She tries to be relaxing. This must be his condition that he mentioned. "Mickey, how can I help you?"

At the sound of her voice, Mickey forces himself to sit up. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her in, clinging on to her with sharp fists. His fingers bury in her skin, but Clara barely notices. Mickey's tears run on to her dress, but she doesn't feel them.

From the way he shakes in her arms, and the way he wraps himself in her completely, Clara realizes something.

Mickey is unequivocally in love with her.

~~~

Maverick hears the forest calling his name.

Beverly had disappeared a little over an hour ago, before the sun had even risen. When he confronted her, she had claimed that the forest was reaching out to her, beckoning her in. He hadn't believed her until he had sat at the edge of the forest and thought about her.

He heard it calling too.

Maverick dips into the forest. He follows an invisible path forward, the same one that Beverly had taken early, unbeknownst to him. Each step makes the whisper louder until he sees her.

In front of Beverly is the shape. Though he wouldn't call it humanoid, she would. She sees it in soft contours and fingers and hands, where he only sees a shadow made of light. Beverly is happy to have finally found it.

She hears Maverick behind her. Not his footsteps, but she hears his presence like one hears words written on the page of a book. Without externality.

Then, she turns around to face him. "I told you it was real."

While her back is turned, the wisp of light sees an opportunity, and it enters Beverly from behind.

White smoke begins to pour out of Beverly's eyes and her body glows. Her hair flows up on end, extending upwards above her and around her. There is no Beverly any longer, as she shifts and fades like a flickering lightbulb.

Maverick rushes forwards. She feels like a magnet repelling him, but he still pushes forwards. Maverick reaches her and clasps her hand. She lets out a wail, as smoke pours out of her mouth and on to the ground.

Maverick can feel something pushing in his hand, like a pimple about to burst. He tightens his grip on Beverly and pushes back.

There is little of which that she is aware, but she pushes too. Pushes until it is gone, and it finally pours out of her completely in a ball of smoke and swiftly flies off through the woods, leaping around the rot.

"What in heaven's name was that?" Maverick asks.

Beverly collapses on the ground.

~~~~~

Yay! Picking things up and moving them forward. I am super burnt out but I needed this out in the world, so please enjoy!