I wake up and fumble for my glasses, expecting everything to be a bad dream. 

"Cecilia?" I call, half awake. I sit up in my makeshift bed.

"Oh, you're awake," a blurry figure walks over to me. "How are you feeling?"

I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "Who are you?" I mumble. "Glasses?"

"Oh, right, here," the figure takes something out of his pocket and puts it on my face. Everything comes into focus. "You were out cold, sweetheart. Can I get you something to eat?"

Is this guy a waiter? "Who are you?" I repeat, with a little more urgency in my voice.

"Ben," he says, holding out his hand. "Ben Swanson. And you are?"

"Fawn," I mumble, stretching. "Fawn Decker." 

"I suppose you're hungry?" He hands me a bowl filled with a light brown mush. "I got some oatmeal down at the convenience store. I hope that's okay?"

"It's better that cold hot dogs," I say, taking a spoonful. It's bland, but I've had worse. I can taste something sweet, like honey, but not a lot of it. I practically inhale the bowl. I haven't eaten since yesterday night, because I didn't dare eat anything at that old hag's house.

"Woah," he says, looking over at my bowl. I know it looks pathetic, but I'm licking the sides in hopes that he'll get the message like, hey, I haven't eaten in two days. I want more food, even if it looks like you heated up some mud.

He gets it immediately and chuckles, "you could just ask for more, you know." I stop licking the sides of the bowl and hold it out to him.

"Can I have more?" I say, waving the bowl around.

"But of course," he says, bowing. I laugh, and he smiles at me. 

"So, let's talk," I say between spoonful's. "We found each other for a reason, I assume."

"Well, I found you in this creepy house when you were screaming your lungs out, but sure, you could say that," he smirks in a friendly way.

I glare at him jokingly. "You found me," I correct myself. "For a reason, I'm guessing. One, what were you doing in the woods? Two, do you go into every house that you hear someone screaming in? Three, what's the deal with those masked people? Is it a cult or something? Four, why are you being nicer than my parents would to me? Five-"

"Okay, okay, someone has a lot of questions, and I have some answers," he said, cutting me off. "One, I was looking for my brother Thomas and my sister Sofia. Those masked dudes took them. Two, yeah, pretty much. Three, I wish I knew. Four," he paused and smiled at me. "You need better parents." He covered his mouth quickly and his eyes got as big as serving plates. "Sorry sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-"

I cut him off with a laugh. "Don't apologize," I said, still giggling. "It's really okay."

He sighed. "I'm surprised how chill you are. Most people would be really pissed if I said that to them."

"I'm not most people," I said. There was an awkward silence. "I'm sorry about your brother and sister," I said softly.

"I'm sorry about Cecilia, whoever that is," he said. I was about to be like what the hell, creep-o stalker man, but then he said, "you talk in your sleep."

I rolled my eyes. "So what are we going to do?"

"We? No, no, no. You, stay here and do whatever you want. Just don't touch my hot chocolate mix," he said, slinging a green backpack over one shoulder.

"No, no, no," I echoed. "I will not stand by while you're off looking for my sister!"

"Fawn-"

"Ben-"

Fawn-"

"Ben-"

"Fawn!"

I stood there and looked into his bright green eyes, not making a sound. 

"Stay here," he said. At that, he marched off into the woods, leaving me with a burning campfire and a pile of old blankets. I waited for twenty seconds, then took off after him.

No way in hell was he looking for my sister without me.