The cabin smells like meat and sharp spice. It's lovely none the less because it's someone's home and I've been invited inside. The cabin is one large room except for the small closet sized bathroom. The stranger throws a couple of logs onto the fire and sits down in his chair, putting the gun against the wall next the hearth. "Should I close the door?" I ask.

He looks up at me. "Is your friend coming?" he asks and I shrug in return. "Then go ahead, it's unlocked if he changes his mind. No reason to waste heat."

I do as he asks and look around; there is loft where the bed is near the roof. Steps lead up to it and shelves are built in underneath them. They are lined with books and jars of food. Everything is made of wood that looks like it's been carved by hand. The kitchen is full of old appliances and there is something heating on the stove. I catch a whiff of spice when it hisses.

"Don't just stand there, come sit and get warm by the fire. I don't bite." I sit on a little wooden stool by the fire and place my bag between my feet on the floor. The fire kisses my face and chases away the cold in my nose and ears. It's the warmest I've felt in months.

"I recognize your face," he says slowly.

I open my mouth to answer but the door slams open. We both turn to see Aiden standing in the doorway. "Let's go," he says. "Right now."

"No," I tell him firmly. I'm just starting to get warm.

"Are you both Misfits?" the stranger asks and Aiden glares at him.

"Right now," Aiden says without looking at me.

"Either come inside or leave, but could you please close the door? You're letting the cold in."

Aiden hesitates a moment but then he steps in and closes the door but he doesn't move towards us, he stays with his back to the door, ready to escape at any moment. I turn back to the man. "The answer to your question is yes," I tell him.

Aiden chokes on his breathe. "Adie," he hisses a warning then sucks in another breath, realizing he's just given my name away on top of it all. "Damn it," he swears angrily.

The stranger chuckles, "You've got nothing to worry about from me. I knew the answer before I asked."

I look him in the eyes and study his face. He's eyes are surprisingly light blue and his silver hair is hidden under his red baseball cap. His flannel shirt and jeans are worn but taken care of. He's relaxed despite the fact that he was shouting at us with a gun in his hands not ten minutes ago. "How did you know?" I ask.

The stranger lifts his hands and outlines my body in the air with his pointer finger. "Because of that," he says.

"What?" I ask looking down at myself. I wonder if we are so easily recognized because of our clothes or our faces.

"You're connection. It glows like the noon sun, plain as day," he looks at Aiden. "Yours too."

I remember the mist I saw around Aiden when I first encountered him. I look at him now, but there is nothing there. He's just pale and stiff at the door. I turn back to the stranger. "Does that mean you're like us?" I ask. "A Misfit?"

A soft smile touches his lips when he looks at me and then a blue aura pushes away from his body, it's the same mist I saw surrounding Aiden but it's fainter, like it's barely holding onto him. Then it disappears again and Aiden steps closer. "Who are you?" he demands.

"My name is Doug," he says simply. "It's nice to meet you."

"My name is Adie and the asshole by the door is Aiden. How are you here? How have you not been picked up by the Handlers?" I ask astonished. He must be at least fifty and yet he lives in his own little cabin without harassment. Somehow he must have found a way to keep them off his trail.

"I'll tell you everything, but only if you agree to stay and rest. It's a little small but I have plenty of food and it's warm. You can sleep knowing you're safe tonight."

I nod immediately. "Yes please."

"Adie please," Aiden begs uneasily.

"I'm staying. You can leave if you want," I look at him with a challenge but I know he'll stay. He goes where I go whether I want him to or not.

"Here, sit down. I'll dish us some dinner and we'll have a good talk." He motions for Aiden to take his seat by the fire and goes over to the stove. Aiden walks on the opposite side of the room from Doug and sits down.

"This isn't a good idea," he leans over to whisper to me.

"Why not? He's a Misfit like us," I tell him.

"So was I," he reminds me. A shiver trails down my spine at my first memory of Aiden and the realization that he was a Misfit but also my enemy. I look at Doug, trying to imagine him as a betrayer like Aiden.

I shake my head. "He's not like you. I can see it in his eyes; he's not trying to hurt us."

Aiden shakes his head, "I don't like it."

"You don't have to," I remind him.

Doug gives us each a large bowl of venison stew and a chunk of bread. He pulls a chair over from the table and sits with us. While we eat he tells us his story. He grew up when Misfits were still being hunted, before the government had a set up a program to collect us. Everything was chaos back then. He was never pegged as a Misfit because he was in a farming accident as a young man.

"I was never the same after the accident, so I guess it covered up my other anomalies. Sometimes my hands don't want to do what my mind tells them to. But I like this life, I fight to keep it and that means something. I'm not like you. Your aura is almost blinding while mine...well mine doesn't do anything for me. I may as well be a normal human same as everyone else for all good I can do."

"So it was the accident that made you...weak?" I ask, unsure of what word to use or how to ask.

"I reckon so," he nods then he pulls the red cap off his head and turns to show us his neck. There is a large scar at the base of his skull. It cuts through his hairline and disappears under his shirt collar. "I'm lucky to be alive."

Aiden swallows his stew. "So why live out here? Why not with society where things would be easier?" he asks.

"We're you not listening?" Doug asks. "I like working to keep my living, makes me feel useful. I watched our kind lose the war and I felt bad because I knew I didn't help them fight. There was a couple that tried to recruit me back in the day, they had an itch to start a fight, and I feel ashamed that I didn't do more to help them. I stay out here and work for what I have, if I can't fend for myself than I deserve nothing else."

My head snaps up with renewed interest. "What couple?" I ask.

"You wouldn't know them, it was before your time but there was a couple that came to me who said they were going to start a fight, they said they could use my help. I stayed with them for a time, helped them but when it came time to fight I couldn't do it. I was a coward," he shakes his head.

"My parents?" I say shocked.

Doug looks at me surprised, "What did you say?"

"Adie you don't know that—" Aiden cuts in but I shake my head to stop him.

"My parents were the ones who started the war," I tell him.

Doug's eyebrows rise. "You reckon the two people that came to me are your folks?"

"It's possible," I nod.

Doug rubs his beard and grunts, "It's a small world if that true."

"I don't remember them," I tell him honestly.

"No? So how'd you know your folks were the ones who started the war?" he asks.

"They gave me memories," I say. "Somehow in my dreams she told me they were responsible. There are memories of a cabin that I'm supposed to find, a place where I will be safe." Pine trees and wood smoke; safe haven.

"A cabin," Doug looks at the groves of the table and runs a finger along the lines then whispers, "A cabin in the north..."

Aiden stands looks at Doug sharply. "Who said it was north?" he asks, still suspicious that Doug is trying to fool us. It's too much of a coincidence, maybe we were supposed to find Doug. Maybe it was another thing left by my parents.

"That couple asked for my help and though I didn't go with them to fight I did help them, in my own way. I wanted to be an architect before my accident on the farm. I had high aspirations for college, and a good chance to get in too. They asked me to design a place off the grid where they could be self-sufficient and away from harm should they ever need to escape danger, a safe haven of sorts," he explains.

The words ring in my ears and I grab Doug hands. "Do you know where it is?" I ask desperately. "Please, if you know anything..."

"I'm sorry, I only designed the place and when they left I stayed behind. I'm sorry," he says. "Truly, I am." I let go of his hands and sit back in my chair, feeling defeated.

"We'll find it, Adie," Aiden assures me, looking calmer. "We will."

Doug gives me the bed in the loft to sleep in that night and I sleep like I've never slept before. I have a soft mattress, a warm blanket, and kindling of hope deep in my stomach. Everything spills over me and fills me with rest and peace. When I wake sunlight spills into the cabin, the fire pops, and Aiden softly snores in the chair in front of the fire. Doug is nowhere to be seen.

I stretch and climb down from the loft and use the bathroom. When I finish Aiden is awake, he rubs his neck stiffly. "Where's Doug?" he asks.

"I'm not sure, I only woke up a few minutes ago and he was already gone," I tell him. There is a pot of soup simmering on the stove so I take a ladle and pour myself a mug. It's spiced and hot in my mouth but I swallow it greedily despite the way it burns down my throat.

Aiden joins me and looks around the cabin. "He took his rifle with him," he observes.

"Maybe he went hunting?" I suggest. We wait around the cabin as the sun rises further in the sky and finally Aiden shakes his head.

"We need to move on," he says. "We shouldn't be waiting around like this. The Handlers will be on our trail eventually and were just sitting here wasting precious time."

"I don't want to leave without saying goodbye," I shake my head.

"This man isn't our friend," Aiden reminds me. "He was kind enough to let us sleep here and give us some food but we don't owe him anything." He reaches for my arm but I back away and his hand falls. A dog howls in the distance. We both freeze and tilt our heads. My heart stills in my chest, waiting to see if it was just our imagination. Another howl echoes and Aiden locks eyes with me. We move as one. Aiden grabs the bags and I grab our jackets from where they hang by the door.

"I knew we couldn't trust him," Aiden says angrily and grabs his boots.

"You don't know," I tell him, shaking my head.

The door to the cabin bursts open then and Aiden and I jump, ready for a fight. It's Doug, his rifle is in his hands and he's breathing heavily. "You need to run," he says closing the door quickly. "There are men on the edge of my property, they have dogs and they don't look friendly."

"You didn't call them?" I ask.

"No," he shakes his head and place the rifle by the door. He goes to the shelves under the stairs and pulls out a large hiking pack. "Take this, it's loaded with supplies," he hands the pack to Aiden but Aiden doesn't take it.

"How do I know this isn't a trick?" Aiden asks.

"Because I'm telling you to trust him," I snap. "Take the bag."

Aiden narrows his eyes but does what I say. "Take this too, there's a trail on the edge of the lawn it will lead you toward the road. My truck is hidden there under a tarp; I want you to take it." He shoves a pair of keys into Aiden's hand.

"Thank you," I tell him.

Doug nods. "Go now, they won't be long," he grabs his rifle and opens the door. A gunshot screams from the woods and Doug stumbles back and falls to his back. I yell out and Aiden slams his body against the door as more shots splinter against the cabin.

"Get down!" Aiden shots and I drop to the ground. After a minute the shots seize and I crawl to the window and peer out of the corner of the broken window.

"There are only three of them and a dog," I say.

"There will be more," Aiden assures me and then grabs rifle from Doug's limp hand.

"We have to help him," I tell Aiden. There is blood soaking through Doug's shirt but I can see that he's still breathing.

"If we do we'll be caught, it's us or him Adie," Aiden tells me firmly.

"We can't just leave him," I shake my head.

"We have to." I watch transfixed as Aiden checks the rifles chamber then wraps the strap around his hand and looks down the scope.

"Do you know how to shoot?" I ask. He nods silently, showing that there is a sour memory for an answer. He quickly stands and shoots out the window and drops back to the floor as they return fire.

"I got one of them," he says shaking his head. "We're going to have to fight our way out before more arrive, we don't have a choice." I look back at Doug. "Adie, we have to go." I nod silently. Aiden is right; if we want to survive then we have to run.

"Are you ready?" he asks. I take a deep breath and my vision flips. I nod again. "Go!" he grabs the door and swings it open. Shoulder to shoulder we jump off the porch and land on the grass. The two Handlers left shoot at us and Aiden returns the fire. Time seems to slow as I watch the large dog leap toward us, released from his leash. I lift my hand and the water rises and knocks the animal off its feet and into the woods. It takes only seconds, but time seems to slow as I watch Aiden's bullets find their marks and the two handlers fall without a sound.

The aftermath is oddly silent but in the distance there are more dogs barking and shouts of pursuit. "Come on!" Aiden sprints for the path at the edge of the lawn and I run after him, hot on his heels. We run on the narrow path until we reach a gravel road. We look around wildly but see only woods.

"It has to be here somewhere," Aiden says. "Split up and search." We take opposites sides of the road and after a few minutes I discover the truck tucked away and hidden under a camouflage tarp.

"Over here!" I shout and wave an arm to Aiden. He nods and sprints in my direction. The dogs are getting louder and the voices are growing more distinct. We are running out of time. I grab the tarp and pull it off the truck. It's an old vehicle, blue and rusting in places but looks reliable enough. Aiden drops the rifle and bag in the back and throw my bag alongside his. We climb inside and Aiden shoves the key into the ignition.

"Can you see them?" he asks and puts the truck into gear. My eyes scan the woods but I don't see any movement.

"No," I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the woods.

"Good." Gravel shoot out from under the tires as Aiden guns the truck forward. As the road twists and turns he continually glances in the rearview mirror.

"They'll know we're in a vehicle now," Aiden says. "They'll be looking for us on the roads. We have to drive for as long as we can to avoid any checkpoints that they might set up in the area. We need to stay off major highways too."

"You seem to know a lot about their plans," I say.

"Yes," he says stiffly. "You'll remember there's a reason for that."

Aiden drives through the morning and afternoon, when the evening light starts to take hold of everything he finally opens his mouth to speak.

"You know, this could be a good time for you to train," he tells me. His hands are gripped firmly on the wheel and his eyes stay on the road, the only time he looks away is to check the mirrors but so far we haven't seen any sign of pursuit or trouble. I turn the heat down a notch and point one of the vents away from my face so my eyes don't dry out.

"Well what should I do?" I ask. I like the idea of having something to occupy my thoughts and time other than worrying about the Handlers chasing us.

Aiden is quiet a moment while he gathers his thoughts. "I think first you need to learn to exercise your focus," he says.

"Ok," I say with a shrug. It doesn't sound too hard.

"No," Aiden says firmly. "Not just OK. You'll need to take this seriously. You can't just master this in an hour or a day. I still work on this exercise and I've been doing this for a long time."

"Alright," I say firmly back. I know we're both on edge and snappy. "I understand, so what do I need to do?"

He lets out a short breath. "Close your eyes." I do. "Now, inhale deeply through your nose and exhale through your mouth, do it ten times and slowly." My head feels light when I do but I reach ten Aiden says, "Good, now keep your eyes closed and breathe normally through your mouth at regular intervals. I want you to picture some water, any amount of it, a puddle, a river, a lake etcetera."

I picture the ocean as it was the day I drowned.

"Do you have it?"

"Yes."

"Keep that image there and start counting your breathes in your head," he says.

In. Out. One. The ocean in my head rolls with waves.

In. Out. Two. It crashes along cliffs.

In. Out. Three. I imagine myself underwater breathing in the water and the salt and letting it take me away. I see myself riding the currents.

"How many breathes?" Aiden's voice cuts through, breaking the image away.

"Uh-fifteen," I had stopped counting.

"Wrong," he says. "You were at twenty three."

I open my eyes. "You were counting?"

"Of course, now tell me what happened that made you lose focus," he says.

"I was thinking of the ocean," I tell him simply.

"Exactly, the goal is for you to keep the ocean in your mind but to not let it control your thoughts." He's not making any sense and I'm getting irritated.

"What's the point of this exercise?" I ask him again.

Aiden glances at me before turning back to the road. "I already told you, the point is focus. When you are in the middle of a fight there are hundreds of different things going on. If you can't keep your attention on your connection and focus on another thing at the same time then you may as well give up before you ever start."

"But I've been in fights before. I didn't have any problems keeping the connection then," I argue.

"You kept a minimal connection. That's why you didn't beat me before. Listen, when you can keep your connection in the front of your mind in the middle of a fight then you'll be nearly unstoppable. It allows you to fully use and access your power without you needing to continually call to the water to make it do what you want. The theory is that we should be able to simply see the water moving in our mind and the water should do it, no delay and excessive thought. There would be no need to focus our attention because we would already have it."

"But you haven't mastered it?" I clarify.

"No, as far as I know no one has. Maybe it is just a theory but I do know that by doing this exercise it has helped me become stronger and I know it will help you as well," he says confident. I wonder how the Handlers learned so much about us. I wonder how much they had pushed Aiden to get better at his ability and how much it hurt him to not use it against the people that hurt him.

I let out a sigh, "I'm going to try again."

I close my eyes.

I picture the ocean.

I start to breathe.

Aiden clears his throat. "Breath through your mouth, remember I need to be able to count. Otherwise who would keep you honest?"

I flash him one of my fingers but breathe through my mouth.

The ocean fills my head.

I start to count.