Survival Of The Fittest

((KIERA HAYES START))

The wilderness here was lovely, in Kiera's opinion. As she walked down the road, compass and map in her hands, she could hardly look at either, not wanting to take her eyes off the natural beauty around her. Though the old, ugly road she walked cut through it and damaged the otherwise-pristine effect some, it was still almost mesmerizing. The mountains to her right dwarfed her, a humbling and impressive display, while the trees shielded her from the gloom and freezing drizzle above, enveloping the road and hiding fleeting looks at wildlife that fled at her approach. It was exactly what she loved most.

She wished she could have been brought to such a place in any other circumstances than these. But it was better if she didn't think too hard about that. Right now, finding shelter and (hopefully) trustworthy company took priority. According to the map, the road would eventually lead her to the first thing no matter which direction she took. She could but pray that the second thing could also be found there.

As she walked, she hummed a somber tune; Down In The Willow Garden, a favorite of her grandmother's and herself. The lyrical content was, perhaps, a little too close to home right now, given where she was, but the melody was soothing, somehow. She would normally be fine with the relative silence of the outdoors, but the sound was more of a comfort to her right now. It kept her mind off the uncomfortable truths she was all too keen to avoid.

This place sucked.

It was cold, and Timothy’s hands were freezing enough that he snuck them into the pockets of his jacket as his "designated bag" was slung haphazardly over his shoulder. His scarf was doing its best to protect his face from the environment.

He had checked what he had in there after the initial, non-embarrassing freak out where he almost did not cry. Timothy was made of sturdier stuff than that.

Besides, he could not show that kind of side to the world; he was something more now than before. He did not know how many of his friends were here since a number of them did not make the trip, so he’d have to represent what they stood for.

He had the floor.

Even though he’d have to admit, they managed it.

Timothy was afraid.

Now, that wasn’t a new thing, everybody around here had to be afraid, right? You have to be a total freak if you weren’t even the tiniest bit afraid that the book club would start burning people alive or something like that, it was natural, you know? That’s probably what everyone who ended up on this stupid thing felt, definitely, for sure.

It was then he could hear this song, he was not sure he could put it as pleasant sounding, but it was something that was more than hearing the wind go by as it tries to cut him to the bone.

He followed the sound and came upon Kiera Hayes. Pleasant enough, he supposed, liked country music so opposed to what he listened to, and she was about his height, a fact he wasn’t entirely happy about. Put them on equal footing here.

"Hey, Kiera! Nice hum you got there."

((Shu Hawthorne starts here.))

The wilderness here was lovely, in Shu's opinion. He loved snow. He loved how it crunched under his footsteps. He loved how it blanketed and consumed everything, hiding the inherent ugliness of the world in pure white.

He kept the hood of his parka up and his hands in his pockets as he continued his own path in the forest along the road in the kinda unpleasant bastardization of rain mixed with snow. This kind of weather Shu would rather pass on.

Where the path would take him, he didn't know. Maybe Oz?

Farther up on the actual road, he saw someone come towards his direction. Someone intercepted by someone else, actually. One of them was in red and black... was it possible...?

He quickly stopped and ducked behind one of the larger trees. He had to be cautious. He had to be sure.

"Oh, uh..." she replied, turning to face this sudden new arrival. "Thank you?"

She hadn't expected company so soon. Timothy... something, she didn't really remember. He lived well outside of her social circle, and his reputation was not especially rosy. Still, he at least didn't seem to mean any harm.

Yet.

"So, um..." She edged back ever-so-slightly, wary even at his innocuous attitude. "This is some grim shit we're in, huh?"

"The grimmest, yeah." He answered with a nod while putting his hands together in front of him and shaking them furiously against each other.

Bad enough to ask this grim shit, but did it have to be cold? Why not some tropical shit or Hawaii. Hawaii would be nice. Way better than this.

The girl was taking steps away from him; small ones, but steps all the same. That was fine; it made sense, everyone was afraid. Hell, it made Timothy happy that someone looked at him as not a joke where he was in the cold even though he shouldn't.

"Shits' too cold, and I haven't seen anyone else around, so I thought I was, like, in hell or something already."

"Heh, I get that," she chuckled, though not as if she found it funny. "Though I think it's too pretty to be hell."

She wasn't sure what she could say here. They were discussing their likely-inevitable deaths with the tone of an idle chitchat about school. Was this how this always went? What did people usually do on SOTF, anyway, aside from die?

"So... where are you headed?"

She wasn't sure why she was asking. She didn't know what answer she could expect, given that he seemed to know less than she did about where they were. Odds were high that he hadn't even checked the map yet.

"I'm just trying to find shelter before the weather gets worse. There's a, er," she reopened her map, glancing at the road they were on, "research station, I guess? It's to the west, and there's a town to the east. I figure either would work."

She realized this was starting to sound like an invitation.

"Not saying we have to, like, go together or anything. Just offering directions."

Somewhere further down the road--really, quite far from the other students--a shot rang out. The bullet skimmed the tarmac, and the snow was stirred up, smokelike; it shimmered.

Nearby, at a spot that was not at all deep in the woods, stood a person. They would likely never be warm again, and they had a gun in their hand. Ren Vu blinked. Their eyes watered, they gasped for air, and for a second, they almost learned to love the December chill.

Kiera was nice enough and asked questions of him that he definitely did not have the answer to, but that was fine. Timothy would find the answer eventually; he had no intention of ending up a shmuck dying in the cold anyway. He still had people to find; hopefully, some of his friends so he had folks he could fully trust; find a camera and make a proper explanation of Natasha's whole idea and shit. Yeah, that kind of stuff.

He sniffled a bit from the cold and rubbed his face into his scarf. For real man; this thing was a lifesaver so glad he got hold of this on sale. Same with the jacket love this damn thing so much; sure it's not the best against the elements- he could still feel the cold etch into some of the scrapes and shit he has across his arms- but that was fine it was still a good jacket, tho not the level of his scarf.

Oh, that's right, Kiera was talking; still.

"Ah, that's nice. The research station, huh? Sounds fancy for a shithole, maybe a good place to crash?" She was saying something about traveling together- Timothy was not paying full attention at this part- and he thought the idea was fine; it could be worse really, traveling with a girl in hell-valley ain't so bad. Being on an even playing field could work fine with him there, especially if she knows where things are.

"Well, if you in-" Timothy was about to finish when a shot rang out behind Kiera; he did not know how far away it was, but it sounded close, and his eyes widened, his shoulders stiffened, and his legs wouldn't move, and his mouth hung open like a complete dope.

"Urgh." Timothy stood out like a sore thumb, an easy target with no idea what to do aside from the serpentine dash, and even that might have been a difficult thing to do right now.

A single leg stepped out from behind the tree into the snow before immediately being withdrawn at the sound of gunfire.

It was clear he wasn't really listening at all. Worse still, what he had heard was taken exactly how she'd feared he would take it. She would have corrected him, if not for a very timely but very unfortunate interruption.

Gunfire. It was starting sooner than she'd anticipated.

Wordlessly, she shoved past Timothy and made a break for the trees. Running down the road would be suicide; she had to hope she'd lose whoever was shooting in the woods.

She had disappeared behind the treeline within seconds.

((Kiera Hayes continued in i'll fly away))

Muffled away by the snow and trees, Ren, un-blissfully (wretchedly?) unaware of the students down the road, lowered their gun. They had been looking to test it—a clearing, preferably, where they wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally hitting someone.

The handgun was louder than expected. The sound still weighed on them.

Ren had awoken deep in the woods, and there they had lain, for who knows how long—their eyes stung, which they allowed. So long as they didn’t also allow themselves to sniffle and sob, they were fine—human predators, freshly weaned still learning to hunt, inevitably made noise and were attracted to it (this was actually pure conjecture on Ren’s part, but it made sense). Ren cried quietly until their eyes were dry.

And then they took a deep breath, and they sat up, and they combed through their inventory: water and a map and a first-aid kit and nasty food bars and the precious, precious gun, which Ren immediately loaded. The magazine held 17 rounds of ammo, which, in the back of Ren’s busy head, had seemed like a weird number, but no matter; the gun, with its safety on, went into the inside pocket of their jean jacket, and then Ren pulled out the assigned windbreaker and layered it on top—extra warmth, however scant, and a touch of anonymity in a pinch. They also rubbed some dirt on the red-and-black bullseye that was their pants, which was slightly upsetting, and then they were ready to go

but where?

Not that Ren had no plans, but they didn’t know where the fuck they were; being in the woods could mean anything. So they had settled for going North until they hit a landmark, which of course had taken them here, and to firing the gun.

Their teeth were chattering their location away. Possibly the cold, or the nerves; they wouldn't be stilled. Ren bit their lip, allowed it to quiver in place; they willed the tremors to keep away from their hands, one of which was digging its way through the pack for the map.

Ren looked out, again, at the path. They thought. They turned to the left—still inside the treeline—and started walking.

Timothy's eyes stared into space, unable to focus as his heart got on a weird rhythm. His arms went slack at his sides, with open palmed hands shaking in their place.

It was only when Kiera made a run for it that Timothy finally managed to make it like a tree and sprinted away from his spot over to a nearby tree, almost stumbling onto his face getting to it and crouching down behind it. Timothy clung to his bag for comfort and held it real close. He could hear her footsteps going away from this place as he breathed into his scarf.

Ok, ok. Everything was fine; Timothy was fine, sure Kiera ran off, and someone there had a gun, but it was fine! He wasn't hit, and they probably didn't know where he was, and that was ok; everything was ok...

Shu did a double take as he watched Little Red break into the treeline. He didn't have to think twice as he quickly fled as well and followed behind, not too close but just far enough.

((Shu Hawthorne continued close to Kiera))

Ren was a stage whisper of a shadow--that is, they were not quite the wisp in the woods that they would've liked to be. They did not flit nor were they insubstantial. Their shoes left prints, and the prints sounded crunchy.

(Would it be accurate to say that they drifted towards Timothy's hiding spot?)

Things were not good; whoever was doing the fucking shooting and shit was moving around, getting too close for comfort. Timothy could hear their steps as the snow crunched underneath; if he was a hunter or some shit like that, he could tell who the fuck it was and whether hiding his ass here was a good idea or not, but no! Course not! He didn't know shit, and now this person was fuckin', moving way too fast.

They need to stop right now. Please.

Timothy hugged his bag tighter and tried to minimize his breathing, keeping it strictly through his nose at best. Timothy was pushing the back of his head into the tree that he was hiding behind; it was like he was trying to make a dent.

Aw, shit! This sucks! Why were they getting closer? Why bring out the gun this early? Anyone not crazy would, you know, get the fuck out of here. Go to the research station or something!

He started to unzip his bag and left enough room for his hand to snake in.

Fuck this! They better have given him something to deal with this.