Before Winter Comes [ze_kraken x Morgan]

[ze_kraken]

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"Might be," Ethan agreed. "Hopefully it'll still be dry, too. As to defenses, well we're lucky we're up on a hill with trees to dampen any noise we make. With stakes up the driveway in rows, should be we stop the dead in their tracks on the way up and the rest will have to make their way through trees and be easy to pick off. I'm hopeful."

For once, he meant it. Things on the road had been bleak enough, even if it was about as comfortable as road living was. The prospect of a defensible location with ample food and clean water was all one could really hope for, even if they faced imminent danger from the dead in the town further down the road and the more sinister threat of the raiders somewhere in the valley. They would have to start scouting out regularly, too, Ethan thought - once the town was clear enough, anyways.

"With the right tools, could be done in a week or so, only problem is finding the tools," he continued. "Might be we'll find them in town, or we'll have to improvise."

Ethan took a sip of water after pouring it into one of the two cups Riley laid out as she fetched the fish from atop the fireplace. The two ate in relative silence before finishing packing up their things and heading to the same inlet as the day before, this time more wary of the lurkers they had encountered the day before. Ethan took to fishing first, leaving Riley with the sheets down below at her insistence she wash them. He watched her from atop the rise with a smile, appreciating the commitment to making the house seem less or a temporary shelter by taking the simple act to wash bed sheets.

Before long, Riley joined Ethan atop the rise and they resumed their fishing contest from the day before. Ethan fared no better this time, snagging two fish to Riley's four. She had poked fun at him, saying it had earned her the right to "sleep in" undisturbed the next day to which Ethan just smiled and nodded. By the time they returned, it was just beginning to turn from midday to twilight. Sheets and fish in hand, the two went about hanging the sheets to finish drying properly while Ethan gutted the fish in preparation to be cooked. He did better than he had the day before, but still wasted more than he would have liked.

Leaving the fish out on a dry cloth, Ethan looked over to Riley sitting at the dining room table and eyeing the bed sheets swaying in the wind gently on the wire they had jerryrigged from television cables and bits of wood protruding from the house's deck.

"Ready to go check out the garage in a few?" He asked, heading over to light the fireplace. "In and out, and we'll be back by the time the pan is hot."

 

[Morgan]

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His optimism was infectious. Ethan being hopeful was something she appreciated more than she would have expected. Maybe it was because he always seemed so thoughtful and serious, though his demeanor had changed lately. Riley thought she saw him smile a little more often, or at least that it didn't hide so far beneath the surface. What caused this change she couldn't say; it couldn't be their situation since that had not improved. On the contrary, it had worsened up until now. This house, such as it was, was a little respite on their journey. Whether it would turn into something more permanent or not, she could only guess and hope. For now, she would take in Ethan's optimism and hope and be content with that. ​

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But even if she wouldn't have had that to cling to, the day's catch would have brightened her mood. Six fish total, enough for another filling meal. If they kept this up and ventured out to hunt on occasion, they would not lack food. Perhaps they might even be able to stock up for winter. The weather was still warm enough to not be an issue, but there was a change on the wind. The forewarning of colder times approaching. She shuddered at the thought and did not look forward to winter. But they had time yet, to prepare. ​

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They had hung up the sheets to dry and soon they would sleep in fresh linens. Or well, as fresh and clean linens as they could get. Riley had gone and fixed up the bedroom as best she could, beating dust out of the old pillows and cleaning the room. The curtains she took down and dusted outside as well. By the end of it, the bedroom looked so nice that she was surprised herself. Riley had been so impressed that she had continued in the living room and kitchen. The kitchen was open so the two rooms became one and Riley thought that it was a wonderful house to bring your family. You could eat at the large dining table, the children could play board games and in the evening the adults could enjoy a glass of wine by the fireplace or in the couch. Riley smiled to herself but stopped before she made herself sad. Fortunately, Ethan spoke up and distracted her at the same time. ​

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"Yeah sure." She answered, finishing wiping off the kitchen counter. She turned and watched as flames began to spread in the fireplace. She was hungry and looked forward to another meal. Slipping into her shoes, Riley held the door open for Ethan and waited. Once ready, the two of them walked round to the side of the building where the garage was. Riley approached the door and reached down to grab the handle and pulled. The hinges were rusty and groaned and it was difficult to open it. Seeing her struggle, Ethan approached and lent a hand. She paused, considering the possibility that there might be a lurker inside. She looked at Ethan, drew out her knife and was silent for a moment. No sound. With a nod the two of them heaved open the garage door. No dead thing waited to ambush them. She sighed with relief and stuck the knife back in its sheath in her belt and walked inside. ​

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Smiling, she gave Ethan's elbow a squeeze. They wouldn't lack for tools, it seemed. At least not the most basic things. On the wall there was an axe and a few saws. There was a workbench, bottles of glue and oil- most of which was probably dry or gone bad. And she hadn't even checked the drawers yet. "We should have checked this right away." She said to Ethan, shaking her head. ​

 

[ze_kraken]

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"We should have," he agreed, admiring the set-up momentarily.

Lucky came short of describing their situation, and Ethan wondered for a moment if any of it was real. He wondered if he was back in Haven, asleep, and would wake from what had been at times both dream and nightmare. Only, as he trailed behind Riley into the garage and brushed a pair of fingers delicately over the railing of the three stairs that descended to the garage floor and rubbed the lingering dust between them he knew this to be reality. Why had he survived to find this life of relative peace when so many from Haven alone had ceased to be?

I think this is more than anyone deserves, he thought bitterly as he reflected on his indifferently he had taken the armor key back in Haven. Least of all me. I've killed, even when I haven't needed to. I've used others for my own survival, and yet...

His gaze lingered on Riley momentarily. Would she be so willing to stay with him if she discovered the extent of his grey-hued past? He supposed everyone had their own moments of moral failings in this world, but he recalled figures like Tom or Maggie. Flawed, yes, but in ways that were within human norms - they had acted as best they could, whereas Ethan had bartered his morals for his life on more than one occasion. It was, among other reasons, why he stood here in this dusty garage with Riley and a treasure trove of tools and others were gone, either rotting along some stretch of road or roaming the world with the dead.

He swayed for a moment, clutching the railing for support as a wave of guilt and anguish rolled over him. He wanted to run, he wanted to curl into a ball, he wanted to smoke, he wanted a return to Haven. The faces of those he had lost flashed before his eyes, and distracted, he steadied himself and ambled through the garage attempting his best to disguise his inner turmoil as intent interest in the tools on display. All the while he flickered in and out of painfully acute recollections of his road to this moment.

Ethan became distinctly aware of the inner storm conflicting with his surroundings - Riley was talking to him, and he was replying. Only it wasn't him, he was caught rudderless through his stream of thoughts. His body spoke, and spoke pleasantly enough, but his mind seemed a million miles away as they returned to the dining room and went about eating dinner. His thoughts and memories gnawed at him as they did a final check of their security, and did not relent as they went to bed. At some point the voices, the images, the sounds ceased and sleep took him...

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When Ethan woke, it was to stiff and sore muscles and a film of sweat clinging to the sheets around him. He did not know for a moment where he was, what time it was, or even who the stranger in the bed next to him was. His vision blurred at its edges, and he shook himself as he recognized Riley's chest delicately rising and falling with each breath. Riley.

Riley, he reminded himself. Friend.

He let out a ragged breath, shuffling to an upright seated position in the bed. For over a week he had managed to convince himself that somehow the damage was repaired, that Haven's passing had not been as devastating a blow as it seemed. Suddenly, the lake house did not feel as safe and perfect as it first had. It was just a cheap replacement, and that did not leave him feeling overwhelmed or scared. No, he reflected as he calmed his shaken nerves. Under the facade of safety and comfort was a very real danger, one that he would need to work to overcome with Riley.

Riley.

His attention shifted to her. He wondered, briefly, if she knew that she was likely the difference between Ethan the person and Ethan the survivalist husk. He remembered, in more than the charming story of his first encounter with Riley he had made the story out to be, the bearded and ragged survivor that had driven up to Haven in that car. The one who had struggled to remember his own name, and whose words had been curt and basic for weeks afterwards. She stirred in her sleep, and without thinking he cast a hand out and gently brushed her shoulder. Like much of her, it was oddly soft to the touch in contrast to his own rough hands. Only, as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze he felt the hard sinewy muscle beneath and Riley's own story flickered behind his eyes as she had described it.

"Good morning," he croaked, relieved to find he still had a voice.

"Ready for some breakfast?" He asked, hand slipping from her shoulder as he waited for her to wake up fully.

 

[Morgan]

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Somewhere just beneath the surface, she thought she could feel him moving next to her. She was brought slowly out of sleep, but didn't open her eyes yet. Memories of the previous day flooded her mind. They had managed to get a lot done around the house and even gone to explore the garage. Ethan had seemed oddly distant, but Riley had not commented on it. Instead she had given him space and when they went to eat dinner, they had small-talked about everything and nothing. She knew all too well how their situation and recent events could take their toll. She knew that the emotional repercussions of what they had lived through together lay just beneath the skin. Riley felt she had cried enough and wanted to spare both of them more breakdowns. But every time her thoughts went back to Haven and their friends, sorrow reared its ugly head and threatened to spill down her cheeks and steal her voice. Not enough time had gone by for her wounds to turn into scars yet. But those thoughts had not yet taken hold in her mind. It was morning and for the moment she was content. She was warm and comfortable and something squeezed her shoulder. ​

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Riley's eyes slowly opened as she was brought out of sleep. She saw Ethan's calloused hand move away from her, though it left her disappointed. Almost instinctively, her hand reached out from under the covers and found his. She looked up at him, smiled and squeezed his hand. It was rough. She reluctantly let it go after a few moments, rubbing her eyes to get rid of the last remnants of sleep. It offered such comfort when she dared to touch him or he touched her. It was just a gentle squeeze or a hug, but Ethan couldn't possibly know what it meant to her. Riley sighed deeply and then sat up as well. "Yes." Her voice was coarse from sleep. She cleared her throat and rolled her shoulder. "I'm starving." As she was putting on fresh socks, she looked over her shoulder and spoke. "How did you sleep?" ​

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Waiting for his reply, she continued getting dressed. Her pack was next to her side of the bed and she rummaged through, finding the other t-shirt she had. Riley had kept her pants and shirt on for bed. There were several reasons for that. One of them was that, even though they were two reasonable adults, she didn't want to make it awkward. But that was by far the lesser reason. Riley was not particularly shy. More pressing was the issue that, should the house be breached, she would not have time to first get dressed. Then there was the fact that it kept her warm through the night. Today she wanted a change of clothes. She glanced over her shoulder, turned a little more so her back was fully toward him and then pulled her top over her head. She then took the gray t-shirt, put it on and then pulled the black long-sleeve she had on as well. Lastly, her boots and thens he was ready. Riley stood, waited for Ethan and together they descended the stairs and began making breakfast. ​

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Fish again. They had eaten fish for the past few days but even so, she wasn't tired of it yet. Sure it was a little bland due to the lack of seasoning, but once they were better settled they might be able to remedy that as well. Before long, they would have to scavenge the area and she hoped they might find salt and pepper to add a little touch for their meals. Riley stopped what she was doing by the fireplace, smiling to herself. She could still feel the heat from the previous night. It seemed silly to her that she was excited about finding salt and pepper for their meals. There were so many things they had to do that were more important. But as she had come to realize, the little things mattered. Riley then proceeded to light the kindling in the fireplace. Before long, flames licked the wood and a pleasant smell began to waft through the building. Riley turned and faced Ethan. ​

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"Should we get something done around the house today? We talked about those stakes... It might be good to get that done as soon as possible. For defense." She added the last part with a shrug. Then she took a seat in a chair by the large dining table and ran her hand through her hair before she began braiding it. Establishing a perimiter might mean that they could move a little more freely around the grounds outside the house. They would have to get rid of the lurkers around the lake at some point, but for now their focus was the house. "We have enough fish for tonight as well, so we can work on the stakes today and then catch some more fish tomorrow." A smirk spread across her face and she shrugged. "I will, at least." She teased. ​

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The inside of the lake house looked a lot better from their efforts the day before. They would have to make some repairs to the outside of the house before winter, but there was time enough for that. Riley was rather pleased with the state of the place in general, and so her main concern was the fence to protect them. ​

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[ze_kraken]

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"Stakes sound like as good a place to start as any," Ethan agreed, adding with a smile. "And don't get too cocky, I'll catch up to you one day."

Riley returned a look to Ethan as if to say "yeah, as if" and the two laughed it off and set about preparing the table for breakfast. Consistent, warm food was too much of a luxury for Ethan to complain that it was his fourth or fifth meal in a row eating only fish. With any luck, in the coming days they would find ways to add more to their diet. Adding that to his mental checklist, Ethan realized right as they were adding their cutlery and plates to their wash pile that this was likely why small groups of survivors never made it long and resorted to banditry.

He himself had opted to steal from those who had done the hard work of making something for themselves, and as he gazed outside the rear sliding doors and over the lake beyond the scale of work needed to sustain even two human lives dawned on him. He and Riley would swiftly need to become experts in everything - hunting, farming, repairs, all of it.

One step at a time, Ethan consoled himself. We have a bit of time still before the cracks show.

The pair went to the garage and fetched the tools they would need - namely a small axe, saw, and lengths of decently preserved canvas cloth. Rather than fell a whole tree, and draw just about every lurker in a few miles to their location, they decided it was best to take it branch by branch. The prospect of doing so without a harness was not comfortable, but then neither was pushing off dozens of lurkers.

They picked their first tree - a tall oak about one hundred yards from the base of the hill, and set up the canvas patches in a hammock of sorts below where they intended to cut. The branches would fall to the canvas below with minimal noise, and when they were finished they could simply wrap up the lengths of canvas and ferry them home. After that, it was a matter of cutting, sharpening, and planting.

By the time Ethan and Riley were ready to get to work, it was just about noon, the sun beaming overhead. Ethan welcomed its warmth as they headed down the forested driveway. He clambered up the tree, saw swinging along the strap he had fashioned for it from spare bits of cloth and leather he had scrounged from the garage and house. Below, Riley set up the canvas cloth and pointed out branches that were easiest to get to and cut safely. It was slow-going work, Ethan taking extra care to avoid cutting the very branches he used for support. Despite the chill in the shade, sweat beaded along his forehead and down his back from the exertion of keeping steady. If not for their semi consistent and nourishing diet of fish, he thought he might not have been able to do half as much.

All told, they were able to cut about 20 feet of branches by Ethan's count by the time the sun began to set. They further split these into four bundles of roughly 5 feet and wrapped them in spare canvas, each taking two bundles back up to the house. They deposited them in the garage, along with their tools, before performing their normal routine safety checks around the base of the house. Though they had not encountered any of the dead, Ethan feared they had made more than their fair share of noise to draw them in. Perhaps it was best to sleep lightly on this night, he thought, as they went about preparing dinner.

His muscles ached, and doubtless they would ache more tomorrow. Still, the work had been a welcome distraction from his dark thoughts the day before, and he had even found himself ignoring the lingering craving for a cigarette. Ethan quaffed down water they had pulled from the lake and boiled before storing, welcoming the relieve to his headache from equal parts dehydration and exposure to the sun and elements all day.

"It was good work today," he commented as they set down for dinner at the table. "Figure it shouldn't take much more to get a good perimeter, and from there we shouldn't have to do nearly as much work."

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[Morgan]

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It had been good work today. Riley felt a little useless and bad at first because her role mainly consisted of pointing out branches while Ethan did all the hard work. But there had been no debate over who should do what. Ethan had gone straight to work. Riley had watched him as he tried to keep steady and cut off the branches they needed. From time to time, she would let her eyes linger on him as he moved about the tree, sweating as he worked. On more than one occasion she had been lost in thought as she stared at him and hadn't heard him call her name. Not until he called a second time did she blink and focus on him before quickly finding a new branch for him to cut down. Though she scolded herself for daydreaming and not paying attention where she should, it didn't help much. ​

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Nevertheless, they managed to get a good days work done and now the garage held their harvest. Riley was not half as tired as Ethan was, she was sure, but they had been active all day and it could be felt. She watched him as he sat at the dinner table, drinking some water. Before she sat down, Riley put a towel in a washbowl in the sink and poured some water over it. She let it sit there and then joined Ethan at the table. ​

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"It was." She said and nodded, chewing on their meal. She was happy that they ate well, but fish was beginning to taste a little bland to her. She reminded herself that it was better than nothing and without it, their work around the house would be much slower. "Think we'll be done tomorrow?" She asked, wondering what he thought about that. Neither of them were prone to sleeping in - despite Ethan's kindhearted teasing - so if they got up and got to work as soon as they could, she was confident that they would make good progress the next day as well. Whether they would be finished with the stakes, she wasn't sure though. But time would tell. Riley wouldn't worry. Her worries lay elsewhere. Neither of them had voiced their concerns, but they were both very aware of how much noise they had made today. Riley was sure she wasn't alone in wondering if they had attracted any of the dead. Time would tell. ​

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A knot popped in the fire, sending sparks flying. Riley gazed at the flames for a while, silently contemplating their situation and how they would manage. The months grew ever colder and they couldn't rely on fish all the time. There were many things they needed to learn and do and with little time. When winter really set in, things would be more difficult. She had spotted a few things around the house she would like to repair before it got really cold. She would like to craft a few traps as well, so they might catch rabbits or hares. Anything that could sustain them. Riley had also toyed with the idea of growing vegetables, if they were to stay here more permanently, but how they were going to manage that she was not sure. Especially not with winter coming. She realized that that was her main goal. Surviving winter. If they could do that, she was optimistic that they could survive come spring. ​

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Time will tell.​

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The rest of their meal was spent pleasantly sharing ideas for various projects they needed to do. It was nice to hear Ethan's ideas out loud and it was nice to voice her own. The more time they spent at this cabin, she found that sharing your ideas was better than keeping them to yourself, no matter how silly they might sound. But both of them seemed rather on the same page, much like they always were, she found. Their conversation had gone on for longer than usual and Riley sat leaning on her elbow, watching him. But both of them were tired from their labor, again Riley felt a tinge of guilt for not helping more. She sighed, stood from her seat and took Ethan's plate and then her own. She set both plates in the sink, turned and wrung out the towel she had soaked in the wash bowl earlier. She approached Ethan where he sat at the table and put the cool, damp towel around his neck. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, sat down in her chair again and watched him. "You did most of the work today. Thank you." She said, her hand travelling from his shoulder to his cheek. With a soft smile she rubbed at the skin, trying to get a spot of dirt away. "You have dirt on your face." She said, unable to get it off. Then her hand stopped and opened, the palm of it coming to rest against his cheek. For a moment she sat and stared at him, smiling. Another crack came from the fire and she was brought out of her trance. Immediately, she drew her hand away and felt her cheeks flush. Riley cleared her throat and stood, tugged at the towel around his neck and then turned. "Wash up before you come to bed." And with that, she headed for the bedroom. ​

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The next day started much as they had planned it. Ethan woke before her as he always did but Riley was less annoyed about it now. They shared a quick meal before they decided to get to work. Fortunately, they didn't need that much more to begin building the fence. They fell into the same roles as the day before and it didn't take them long to harvest the remaining branches they needed. When they hauled it back to the garage it was nearing noon. Now it was a question of sharpening and planting. ​

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Together, they walked around the cabin and the hill, drawing a line of where they wanted the perimeter to run. They agreed on a spacing for each stake and then returned to the garage. Together they were able to find a good rhythm. Ethan was stronger, which, sadly for him, meant that he drew the short stick. They found a good pace, Riley helped steady each branch and Ethan swung at it with the axe, sharpening it into a stake. Each finished stake was then placed on the canvas so they could drag them out to where they needed to plant them. As the afternoon dragged on, Riley was pleased with the amount of work they had managed to do again. They weren't finished with the perimeter but they had set up a good length of it. One more day and they should be done. Digging and planting the stakes was something Riley helped with as much as Ethan, so now she could feel the weariness in her own muscles as well. ​

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Straightening, she looked at Ethan before she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Evening was approaching. The two of them had enough fish to eat for this evening, but the next day they had to catch more. That or they would have to eat some of the rations they had brought with them. And those could last a good while yet, so they would rather save those. "It'll be dark soon." Riley said, gesturing toward the cabin up the path above them. "We can finish the rest tomorrow, yeah? I'm starving."​

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[ze_kraken]

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"Let's go," Ethan agreed, joining Riley to venture back up the hill.

After a day of hard work, just like the day before, the smell of cooked fish was more welcome than anything. Ethan welcomed the distractions, both from his need to smoke and the lingering wounds of Haven. Working to a goal, even so trivial as putting up stakes, filled him with a sense of purpose that had been lacking even in Haven. He had been the one to go out on runs and train those in Haven to fight, but he had never truly grown accustomed to working in a community that could specialize like Haven could. He felt there was always more he could be doing, and in the absence of survival filling his every waking hour, he had often found himself lost in what to do and how to act. Though their predicament now indicated to him, perhaps more than ever, that such specialization and weight of people was in fact necessary to survive, the prospect was as uncomfortable as it was welcomed.

They ate dinner in calm, sharing plans for the next day before washing off their hands and faces with damp bits of cloth from water they had taken from the lake, boiled, and saved. Before long they were in bed, having ensured that there were ample barricades between themselves and any points of access from downstairs. Ethan slipped into a still, if not comfortable, sleep and awoke alongside Riley the next morning.

Without much for conversation, the two set about digging in more stakes around the base of the hill upon which their house stood after a quick breakfast of leftover fish from the night before. Ethan's muscles were exhausted, but nevertheless he still dug out holes, planted stakes, and kept going. Riley looked equally tired, and before long they were both covered in sweat and grime from the work. By mid day, their house was surrounded by multiple rows of stakes that first started at the base in one ring, then another midway up, and lastly one by the porch of the house. A central path down the driveway, no wider than to accommodate one sure-footed human, was left but both Ethan and Riley had agreed it best to use the rear exit and scale the rocky cliff side of the opposite side of the hill in the interest of creating a more secure perimeter.

After finishing planting the stakes, the two headed to the inlet and bathed themselves in the water while the other fished. Like all times before, Ethan managed to catch far less than Riley when all was said and done - much to her delight, as she teased him about it along their way home. In their short time on the lake, the air had already begun to grow chillier in the evenings and the days were beginning to shorten by minutes. Winter was well on its way, and doubt and worry lingered in the back of Ethan's mind as he and Riley went about preparing and storing the fish they did not intend to eat for dinner.

Their work was still cut out for them - soon they would need to start looking outward to the lake town, clearing out the dead, and investigating the other houses. That was to say nothing of making ample preparations for winter, both in terms of food and insulation. The house was in a sore state of repairs, even if for this new world it was a small haven. Besides, it was a house designed for the warmth of summer and not the bitter chill of a long winter.

He cast those thoughts aside, remaining focused on his conversations with Riley over dinner. She was as vital to making it through the winter as everything else, and though he was growing increasingly uncertain what gentle strokes along the cheek and stolen touches to the shoulder at night meant for them, he found himself ever drawn to her. She was the one bright spot of his existence, one that if snuffed would leave him as he was before Haven. Theirs was a relatively comfortable existence, if ever there was one for either of them since the fall. Though they had been at first reluctant to fall to conversations of pre-fall life and find ways to get lost in themselves for some time, those awkward exchanges were becoming more mundane and for the first time in a while the threat of death receded for a while and they were just two people enjoying dinner and one another's company.

"We're going to make it," Ethan said as their conversation drifted to its conclusion, and they were preparing for bed. "I really think we're going to make it."

 

[Morgan]

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Stakes in the ground. The house was encircled and they had a defensive perimeter. But still, it was clear that this was only the start of the work they had to do around their dwelling. On top of repairs and maintenance, they also had to keep fed. The two of them had also talked about venturing further into the town by the lake, which was exciting but it was difficult to fathom how they would manage to find the time. But there was nothing else to do than prepare and work hard. Riley and Ethan never had to say that to each other, though. They both knew.​

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Over the next months, they both accepted their workload. They got up every day - Ethan first - and ate breakfast and got to work. Their diet consisted of fish as it had for a long time. They had decided to work on the house, repairing what needed to be repaired to get it ready for winter as well as making it more safe to live in. Extra protection on windows and doors and more than a few boards replaced throughout the building. The garage was a godsend when it came to tools. Materials were more difficult to find, however. Realizing this, they decided to venture into town. Being situated near a lake, with lots of wooden cabins around, a hardware store and materials were surprisingly easy to find. It was harder to stay safe and manage to get their loot back to the house.​

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But somehow, they managed to keep each other alive. The two of them took down a few of the dead but avoided when possible. Riley trusted Ethan and was very thankful for having him with her. Again. It was a recurring thought. During the next many days and through all their work and hardships, Riley found herself glancing at Ethan in a way that was slowly changing. It seemed so strange that she should be so lucky to have paired up with him, when Haven collapsed. She didn't believe in fate, but it was hard to deny how perfect it all seemed even though the world was so wrong. But she didn't believe in it. Riley didn't believe in anything, anymore. All there was, was the two of them and their hard work to survive. Through this hard work, Ethan was her friend and her comfort. Her last memory of what it meant to be human. In fact, she realized, the two of them kept reminding each other of what exactly that meant. More and more, Riley found herself daring and wanting to reach out and touch him. A gentle squeeze of the hand or shoulder. Every time she did, it filled her with warmth and comfort and it moved her deeply every time. How strange that she had once taken human contact for granted. In their days at the lake house she found herself cherishing every moment they touched. ​

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But as much as she wanted to, she couldn't live on gentle touches or kind words. They took to hunting, wanting a more varied diet as well as needing more food for the increasing cold. Winter would be hard, they both knew that. So the meat, bones and hides from deer and hares would be crucial. Here too she caught herself watching Ethan in a different way. It was immensely frustrating to Riley. Though she was in her element, making traps and skinning deer, her focus was disrupted by her increasing desire to wrap her arms around Ethan and tell him how much it meant to her that he was here with her. Even though she was sure he already knew, she wanted to tell him. But she didn't. Or couldn't. Riley wasn't sure. From time to time she would give an annoyed sigh and furrow her eyebrows and focus even harder on the work at hand. It was all she could do to keep those thoughts and emotions locked away. Those thoughts and emotions that were slowly starting to settle somewhere in her chest, blossoming as everything around them withered and winter rushed to greet them. Emotions that were much too complicated and dangerous. But why where they dangerous? Why complicated?​

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These questions were among the reasons why she grew more pensive and quiet, sometimes staring out the windows, watching the snow fall. She did her best not to let Ethan notice. Her hope was that if she focused hard enough on their daily work, the cause of her dilemma would disappear. Riley put up a valiant effort. They improved the lake house greatly, repaired and insulated where they could. Inside it was cleaner and began to resemble a real home. Snowfall meant another source of water. It was a welcome change to the taste of lake water. Even their hunting went well. Sometimes food would be scarce, but they didn't starve. Not yet, at least. Both of them were fully committed to saving for harder times, but they were also confident that they could last out the cold. The dropping temperatures also caused the walkers and lurkers arounnd the lake to become less active and more slow. That made it easier to thin out their numbers. They planned their days and prepared themselves for outings where they scavenged for whatever useful items they could find, and killed those undead they could. When snow had been falling for almost two weeks, they were able to walk around relatively carefree, at least in the vicinity of their own house. Although they had to stay alert at all times, this felt like a great freedom. But despite all of this, her inner turmoil was not lessened. Not one bit. ​

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In a pot hanging over the fire, warm soup was sending out a wonderful scent to the rest of the house. RIley had added bits of meat to it as well as some beans. The soup itself was made from bones of the animals they had killed. Riley had tried her hand at fish soup once already, but both of them had laughed and agreed that she didn't have to attempt that a second time. She was decidedly more confident about this dish, however. WIth a ladle, she poured a healthy serving into a couple of bowls and set them down on the table. She placed a spoon by each bowl and a glass of water in front. ​

​

"Food is ready!" Riley's voice rang out, clear and soft. She stood, leaning on her chair and looked at the meal they were about to share. They had been lucky so far to have food enough. But come spring, she wanted to look into making a vegetable garden. That would be another huge benefit for them, but Riley knew very little about it. Her hope was to find seeds and books in town, but she had not been so lucky yet. She didn't like the idea of having to travel, leaving their home behind. But that might be necessary at some point. It was still a thought she had to get used to. ​

​

Hearing Ethan approaching from somewhere behind her, she pulled out her chair and took a seat. The soup did smell great. ​

 

[ze_kraken]

​

Wind whistled through the tips of the trees, branches swaying and creaking, letting loose patches of snow that fell softly to the ground below. Snow coated everything in sight - the leaves, the ground, even the shoulders of Ethan's jacket. He drew in a sharp breath as he came upon a clearing, taking the moment to rest as he uncapped his canteen and took a sip from it. The water, much like the air around him, was icy cold and left a tingling burning sensation trickling down his throat. It was nothing quite like the sensation of dragging on a cigarette, but those cravings were not so heavy as they had been when he first arrived at the lake house.

The tracks were becoming more difficult to spot now, but they pointed to the opposite end of the clearing. The wind picked up, brushing aside the snow atop the earth and eroding away the tracks. Ethan huffed, breath fogging in the cold air, and pressed on across the clearing. His footfalls were steady, measured - hardly a sound did he make across the snow. As he reached the trees opposite the end he had come, Ethan spotted a reddish patch by the base of a tall pine.

Blood.

Ethan fetched the crossbow from its strap along his back and notched a bolt, tensing up. The cold receded to the back of his mind, and the once hazy outline of the forest became sharper. He stepped forward, weapon raised as he examined the path ahead. There were more traces of blood along the snow, a brilliant crimson in the ashy white coverage. It was fresh, no more than an hour or two old.

Minutes stretched to hours as Ethan followed the trail of blood, head on a swivel as he advanced. There. About fifteen yards in front of him. The elk. Ethan crouched low, craning his ears for sounds of the dead before moving closer to the fallen elk. Its stomach had been opened, its guts hanging out in the snow. Fresh snow had mingled with blood-stained snow, forming a reddish-pink slush about the carrion. The mess was too clean to be runners, Ethan observed - the cut to its stomach was straight, and they would not have left its innards so intact.

His suspicions were confirmed when he came across an arrow embedded in the elk's side. People. That sent a shudder down his spine as he rose from the elk's corpse - were they the same as the ones that had raided Haven? How well armed were they? Were they close?

Ethan's trepidation became unease as he thought of Riley alone in the house, and without further thought he propelled himself along the path he had come. His mind was worrying through the prospect of now having to conceal their location from not just the dead but the living as well, and he berated himself for not thinking they were completely isolated by the lake. The trip raced by, and before long Ethan was kicking off his snow-encased, muddy boots at the door and setting about organizing the gear he had taken out in the garage.

When he arrived in the main house, he was greeted with Riley's voice.

"Food is ready!" She called out, voice that same pleasant softness he had come to cherish in the past few months.

Ethan entered the dining room to see two bowls of soup. The scent, along with the warmth, made Ethan feel suddenly feel the cold catching up to him. He strode over to Riley without a word, wrapping her in a quick hug before stepping back, lips curled up in a quick smile. Though doubtless he had brought the cold in with him, Riley was warm and familiar and soft to the touch.

"It looks great," he said, voice initially cracking from lack of use before he paused, a bit embarrassed as he sat down. "Sorry - I was just a bit worried. I was tracking an elk, found it shot through with a bow and I thought there might have been people that found you here too. I made sure no one followed me, but we'll have to keep an eye out for it in the next few weeks. I hope they're just travelers."

 

[Morgan]

It caught her by surprise. It was nice, though he was cold. The suddenness of the physical contact was unexpected and even though a cold breeze seemed to flow from him to her, Riley enjoyed the quick hug Ethan so thoughtlessly wrapped her in. And it was exactly that fact that made an impression on her. She had turned when he had entered the room, he had looked at her and immediately walked toward her and pulled her close. He smelled nice as well. Of fresh air and pine. The scruff on his cheek scratched hers and all of these impressions made her smile. But then they were gone. Ethan sat down and Riley stood and watched him for a moment. Then she sat down as well.

Pulling her bowl of soup closer, she dipped her spoon in and tasted a mouthful. Her expression was surprised. It was tasteful and warm - better than she had thought it would be. That was a good thing. Soup would be an important meal for them during the winter. While impressed with her own cooking, she managed to pay attention to what Ethan was saying at the same time. She paused and tilted her head slightly to one side, looked at him and smiled.

"And so you rushed home to see if I was safe?" She asked, though she found the thought endearing. And then she felt something else. Worry, as she suddenly understood just what that could mean. Her expression changed. A knot formed in her stomach, dampening her appetite. Even so, she took another mouthful. Riley was quiet as she thought. Her trust in strangers had been entirely broken after what happened at Haven. To her, they were as dangerous as the walking dead. If they could overrun and destroy Haven and kills their friends, surely they could and would kill her and Ethan here, in a house by a lake in the middle of no where. "I hope so too." She eventually said, voice a little less confident. Now that they had finally managed to build something somewhat safe and comfortable, she didn't want it to be destroyed. Not now. The thought was almost unbearable.

You're doing it again.

That voice inside her head told her she was worrying too much. At least for now. For now they were safe. No one had attacked them. Not yet. But reality was, that they might be close. Whoever they were, they weren't necessarily hostile but there was always a chance. It took a few deep breaths for her to calm her racing mind. Her expression was less soft now. More stern and serious. She reached out and gave Ethan's arm a squeeze. It was as much for her own comfort as it was for his. "You don't need to apologize." Riley wanted to elaborate on why, but that meant she had to offer insight into her feelings.

She let go of his arm and pulled her hand back again and took another mouthful of soup. It offered some warmth that was nice, but it wasn't because the house was cold. The fire was giving out plenty of heat to the living room and kitchen. The bedroom was colder but they had thick covers there to keep them warm. Riley felt herself relax a little more. "Plans for tomorrow? I think we might need to go hunting pretty soon. If it's safe?"

 

[ze_kraken]

​

"Hunting shouldn't be too bad an idea," Ethan said, hovering his spoon over the soup for a moment. "I haven't been seeing much big game around, but then that was true in Haven, too. Dead's mostly gotten to them."

He took in a mouthful of soup, the warm liquid burning the tip of his tongue for a moment before trailing down the back of his throat, scorching it as it went. Not that he minded much - as its heat blossomed out from his core, it drove back the lingering chill he had worn with him like a cloak since leaving the house that morning. Ethan set the spoon down in the soup for a moment, contemplating what would be the best use of their time in the coming weeks now that the cold and ice had made traversing through once familiar terrain more uncomfortable and more dangerous than it had been before.

"We could consider setting up traps and the like," he said after his brief contemplation. "Might make it a bit safer to check places we know than to go wandering out. Last thing I want is either of us caught in a snow storm with no way back."

That, of course, would also leave traces of their presence by the lake. The unwanted reminder that others were bound to stumble upon them eventually hung heavy over both of them, though Ethan made no mention of it. He guessed that Riley, like he, was hoping the issue to disappear as quickly and suddenly as it had arrived. Traps would confirm to outsiders that someone with some sort of settlement was nearby, but he did not care much for the alternatives. After all, if they were so concerned with being found, they would have left the fireplace still and the driveway unencumbered by stakes.

Their conversation drifted from there, and before long they had both watched the sun recede - far earlier than it had just weeks prior - and begun the process of dimming the lights and prepping for bed. Though they had found a set of passable heavy covers from one of the apartments they had searched in the weeks leading up to the arrival of winter, they had also supplemented their bedding with scraps of other blankets they had found as well. The result was a mismatched, interwoven mess of blankets all beneath the covers atop it.

The next morning they both awoke and set about preparing for their outing. Breakfast was a light affair, made up of strips of fish they had cooked and dried as well as scraps of soup from the previous evening. The winter's chill had the inadvertent benefit of letting food keep longer when stored in safe, cold spots - something Ethan and Riley had taken to doing sparingly in an attempt to stretch their food's lifespan but minimize the risk of disease.

The two donned their coats, shouldered their weapons, and headed out into the world beyond the safety of their house and its perimeter. It had snowed overnight, leaving a fresh coat of white over the previous days' snowfall. Their footsteps were quiet, but still each press down left the telltale crunch of compacting snow. Not that they had much to worry about, Ethan wagered as they ventured west and back over to where he had been hunting the day before. They swept the area surrounding their house regularly, removing what lurkers they could and checking for signs of hordes or humans.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence between them, only broken by the piercing howl of cold winds and their crunching footsteps. Ethan had covered up in a scarf and hat he had found in an abandoned shop to keep from developing frostbite on his nose and ears; Riley was similarly bundled.

And to think this is still what would have been fall, once, Ethan thought with a huff that sent his air fogging outward even from behind the scarf wrapped securely about his face.

It was a while before noon by the time Ethan and Riley came upon the end of the lake town's houses and came upon what might have once been a road. If not for the rusted out cars at regular intervals, between the erosion done over years of neglect and the knee-deep snow there was no reason to suspect the land beyond the town had been anymore than a rolling field. The field stretched on, coming to a slight rise before descending down into the woods they had frequented to forage for food and firewood. Ethan beckoned for Riley to follow, and together they trudged through the snow and came to the crest of the hill.

Once there, they hunched down and began scoping out the treeline below for lurkers. Satisfied there were none, they pressed on down the hill, hand weapons at the ready. Riley had encountered lurkers crawling around in the snow drifts a week earlier, which had kept both of them on high alert ever since. Fortunately, the way down was devoid of snowed-in corpses and they were free to enter the relative protection of the woods below. There it was far warmer, devoid of the bitingly cold air that seemed to slice its way through all manners of protection no matter how warm. Ethan was able to expose his face without worry of losing an extremity for it, and ran a hand through his steadily growing beard.

"Where do you want to start? I wager we take a look by that shed by the farm half a mile up the path from here?"

 

[Morgan]

​

She flexed her fingers in her gloves, making sure to keep the blood circulating. Like Ethan, her face was covered by a scarf and on her head she wore a beanie she had found a while ago. It was cold, though when the wind wasn't bearing down on them it was manageable. If they killed something, they would have to keep its hide. It had snowed for a good while now and everything was so very white. Sometimes, Riley felt like she stood out like a sore thumb with her contrasting clothes. But so far they had seen no sign of humans. One benefit to winter and snow was that the dead seemed more slow and sluggish. Some of them struggled in deep snow and when it crunched underfoot, Riley and Ethan could hear them. ​

​

Her index finger lay next to the trigger of her pistol and the safety was still on. Riley tucked it into her belt and watched Ethan stroke his beard. He had let it grow out and though she had been used to seeing him scruffy or clean shaven, she thought it suited him. She supposed it might be nice when it was cold as well. ​

​

"That's what I was thinking." Riley nodded, uncovering her mouth as well. Her breath fogged in the air. Somewhere above, a crow cawed and flapped its wings, causing snow to fall from the branch it had just left. Among the trees it was strangely quiet. Even the noise the bird made seemed to disappear quickly. As if you were talking into a pillow. The snow changed how everything sounded. It had taken some time to get used to. Riley looked up at the crow, then behind the two of them and then back at Ethan. "You better shoot something today. I'm getting pretty tired of fish, to be honest." She chuckled as she began walking. "Well, I have been for weeks now." But it beat starving to death. ​

​

They followed the path and trudged along. The snow was deep and it was an arduous task to traverse. Riley kept going, knowing that the shed wasn't far. From time to time, she would stop and listen and catch her breath. But she heard no sounds. Just their footsteps and he snow falling about them. ​

​

During one such pause, she looked at Ethan and tilted her head to the side. "Can you imagine," She began and smiled slightly. "A big, fat, juicy elk steak." Her smile widened. "Salt, pepper, thyme." She listed the seasoning she knew they had at the cabin. They had found them in the other lake houses. "Make that dream a reality and I swear to you, I'll be forever grateful to you." Riley then turned slowly and continued.​

​

Even though it was only half a mile, it took them longer than usual to get there, due to the snow. The farm lay close to the woods but with fields surrounding it. It was relatively isolated. Ethan and Riley halted in the treeline and had a good view of the area. What she could only guess was once a wheat or corn field spread out before them, sloping gently down toward the farm house which lay in a small valley. Waiting for Ethan to have a look through his scope, she tried to scan the area and see if she could spot anything moving. If they went blindly into the field, even the dead would see them from far off and come rushing toward them. ​

​

"I can't see anything." Riley's voice was low and she stepped closer to Ethan. ​

 

[ze_kraken]

​

"Nothing," Ethan confirmed after wiping down his scope from the condensation his breath had left upon it and checking the field again. "We'll still want to be careful in those drifts, though. We'll keep clear of the farmhouse, too."

He pointed to where it stood, looming over the treeline opposite the field they overlooked, seeming to tower over the pine trees from their vantage point. In the hazy, sn0w-hazed air the farmhouse looked almost mystical if not for its mundane, if a bit decrepit, shape. One could just barely make out the glint of its glass windows in the sparse rays of sun that pierced the overcast skies above, and like all else that laid upon the horizon, it was hazy and grey.

"Just in case our friends from earlier are looming around, in any case," he added by way of clarification.

The pair descended the hill slowly, taking a route that put them on the farmhouse's leftmost flank clear of any windows that might directly trace line of sight to their approach. The way down was not half so bad as Ethan knew the way up to be, though he hoped that the trip up would be made more difficult by the food they found. Though they stood out plain as day in their dark clothing, outlined perfectly in the crisp white snow about them, there were neither the harsh barks and shouts of the dead nor the crack of rifle fire or whiz of arrows to disrupt their downward progression.

They arrived at the base of the valley and made their way to the shed. The farmhouse was now obscured by the treeline, and so Ethan and Riley were better able to move without the need to maintain as low a profile as they could. They walked abreast, each covering the other's flank as they avoided the more obvious snow drifts. Once upon the shed, they switched to hand weapons and scanned the interior. Though it had been a trip they had made half a dozen times or so during their time by the lake, they checked it as if it was their first time entering the structure. Just as before, it was empty - picked clean of what useful tools it had available long before they had arrived, the ladder to its minuscule attic just barely clinging to a thread of structural integrity.

Ethan and Riley both clambered up the ladder cautiously to the attic, fitting crammed shoulder to shoulder with a window gazing out over each side of the field. They left their packs on the floor below, keeping the doors shut and barred with the axe they had brought along. Then, they waited, sights trained on the field they overlooked as snow began once more to fall and be caught along the wind. Close as they were, and in decent enough shelter besides, they remained warm enough as the minutes turned into hours, the snow forming drifts anew along the field.

"I see something," Ethan muttered such that only Riley could hear, shifting his shoulder to train his sights upon the flicker of movement along the treeline to his front. "Looks like it's on four legs."

The wind and snow made visibility limited, but Ethan was sure he could just make out a deer or perhaps even an elk. Its hazy silhouette wandered about the edge of the treeline. His sights wavered as he took aim with his crossbow, finger still held along the trigger guard as he waited for a better shot. The silhouette drifted out from behind the trees and into the field, confirming that it was indeed prey and not predator. He waited, hoping it would wander closer - 100 meters became 75, became 50. The horns atop its head, now clear to Ethan from the mask of the wind and snow, suggested elk. Ethan's finger shifted and wrapped around the trigger. His breath stalled. Closer. Closer.

Shunk.

The elk collapsed, bolt protruding from its side as bright red blood began to pool into the snow below. Ethan, without waiting, fetched another bolt from the stack he had brought up with him and fixed it to his crossbow. He sighted his target again, seeing it attempt to stagger to its feet. Another bolt and it was down. Again Ethan reloaded, but upon inspection through the scope once more the elk had ceased moving.

"Looks like we've got dinner for a few days," he said, relaxing and putting the freshly loaded bolt aside. "Come help me prep it?"

Ethan and Riley left the relative warmth and safety of the shed, heading down into the field below. The sun was beginning to set, and the air was more chill than it had been when they first entered the shed, but they were carried along by renewed purpose and excitement. Ethan procured his knife from his belt and went about skinning the elk while Riley covered him. It was miserable work in the snow and cold, and Ethan's fingers began to stiffen and lock up in the cold almost immediately. Once the blood began to flow and he began to go about removing organs and sawing off usable pieces of meat, the remnant heat of the elk began to bring life back into his hands. All told, they were able to salvage around six pounds of meat along with the fur lining of the elk. This they sealed in a handful of wrappings they had brought along with them and set it aside in its own pack as to keep the blood from soiling their own gear.

Satisfied, they made the trek back up the hill the same way they had come to avoid the farmhouse and began the trip back home, laden with extra weight to shoulder. Just about the time the sun was beginning to vanish into the mountains beyond, they arrived at their house and set about prepping the meat. They salted and began to cook it over the fireplace. Though it broke their rule of keeping the smoke to a minimum in the evening, neither wanted the meat to go to waste so soon after securing it. Riley took over from there, insisting she wanted to get the seasoning just right and quipping that Ethan had no place in disrupting her masterpiece. Amused, he had let her take control and sat by the fireplace, watching the door and the driveway as concern that the light and smoke would draw unwanted attention ate at him.

"It smells better than fish, that's for damn sure," Ethan said as they waited, offering Riley a quick smile. "Just a shame we don't have nice walls between us and the outside, otherwise this would have made a great excuse to pinch some wine off of Tom, 'huh?"

​

 

[Morgan]

Hunting was always exciting. Even if you didn't shoot anything. But this time they had actually killed something. An elk even. In the shed, before Ethan had fired, it had been so quiet you could almost hear the snow fall. Her heart had been beating so fast and so hard in her chest, she thought she might faint. And the surge of adrenaline when Ethan had hit the elk was such a rush. It was all she could do to not jump up and down. She didn't recall being so excited before the outbreaks. But back then she hadn't been fighting to survive every day. That most likely played a large part.

As she cooked she was smiling. From time to time she even seemed to forget their otherwise dire situation. That was a good thing. Riley was usually optimistic and focused on moving forward. Surviving. But sometimes the gravity of their circumstances pulled her down. Moments like these rekindled that fire in her heart.

Ethan voiced her own thoughts from his spot next to the fireplace. Eating something other than fish would be such a welcome change and she was more than looking forward to it. As this was cause enough for celebration, she had spent some of their scavenged spices and seasoned the meat with sea salt, pepper and thyme. What she wouldn't give for roast potatoes and some garlic. Riley smiled at Ethan and nodded. "That would have made this perfect." She said, recalling the taste of red wine on her tongue.

As the meat was cooking and a delicious scent spread through the air, Riley set the table. The heat from the fireplace was nice. It had been cold outside today. They had been sheltered in the shed, but her feet had been freezing from lack of movement. Now they were being warmed by a live fire and they'd soon have warm food in their stomachs. Hands at her hips, she glanced at the table. A fireplace, a wooden table and juicy steaks. All it needed was indeed two glasses of wine. She sighed a little, prodded at a steak and then looked at Ethan as he was staring at the driveway. At least she had him. He protected her, he hunted and generally she wasn't sure she'd be where she was without him. Riley hoped he felt the same way. Riley hoped he felt the same in more ways than that.

Warmth crept into her cheeks as she realized where her thoughts had taken her. Quickly, she took the cast iron skillet they had found off the fire and placed a steak on each plate. Set took the skillet to the kitchen and set it down in the sink before returning to the table and taking her seat.

"You shot the animal, providing food for the next few days." Riley began. "I'll try to cook something nice for you in return." She said, taking her glass of water and sipping it. She felt almost nervous about the meal she had prepared. Meal might be the wrong word. She had cooked two steaks. She was nervous nonetheless, however. Perhaps it was because she felt she had contributed only little during the hunt.

Prior to cooking she had done her hair up in her signature braid. She levelled her brown eyes at Ethan as he sat across from her, hoping that the trials of winter wouldn't get any worse than this. Perhaps that was being too optimistic, but this they could manage. Before cutting into her steak she paused and then set her knife and fork down again.

"I'm not sure I say this enough…" She said. "But I really appreciate everything you do. I wouldn't have made it here without you." Riley, whose face was usually set in soft expressions, was now serious. Her eyes weren't hard, but they were fixed on Ethan's. There was a vulnerability and a certain honesty in her face that made it clear how this was something she had wanted to say for a while.

 

[Morgan]

Ethan paused, methodically wiping his chin with a handkerchief by his plate and setting it back down, curling its bottom-most corner over itself and unfolding it again. It was not the first time Riley had expressed gratitude, but this time was different. His somber eyes met Riley's, his lips tugging at their corners into a soft smile. The sincerity of her words - though they had always been genuine - was different this time, and wholly unexpected. Ethan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the reality dawning on him that their comfortable bubble that had kept their relationship murky and amorphous was beginning to fade.

He studied Riley's face as the silence extended to the border of being uncomfortable. Was he ready, or even capable, of true vulnerability anymore? Life was so impermanent, there one day and snuffed out like a candle in a stiff breeze the next with just as little fanfare or reason. A knot formed in his stomach, aching as he cleared his throat and spoke, words slow and deliberate.

"I…" A pause. "Neither would I. I would be dead, or a husk like I was before Haven. You've given my life a purpose beyond myself, and I'm grateful."

He took another pause, contemplating the food before him before continuing and meeting Riley's gaze once again.

"I did not think I was capable of caring past my own needs again, and you've shown me that I am. It's a strange feeling, not too unlike looking at a photo of yourself from a time you don't remember. It tugs at your memory, and you know it's you but… I'm not making sense, am I?"

Ethan let out a soft chuckle, averting his eyes from Riley's face, extending a hand out and wrapping his fingers around hers, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"There's hope with you, is what I mean."

She smiled. They had been through this before. Riley's emotions flowing over and her expressing her gratitude toward him. But here he was, saying more than he usually did. And hope was such a wonderful, tragic word. It made her heart swell and made her fearful, all at the same time. It meant they had something to lose, but that was better than the other way around.

Looking down at his fingers wrapped around hers, a little warmth crept into her cheeks again. He was warm and the physical contact was nice. She squeezed him back as her eyes continued to search for his. She hadn't heard his Southern drawl speak words quite so tender before. She almost launched into her usual series of apologies when she was like this, but this time she didn't. If Ethan hadn't gotten used to it by now, then…

"You speak as if you don't have a heart. Or didn't." Riley said, tilting her head to the side. "I can't imagine that to be true." Ever since their first excursion to Coker Creek she had found Ethan to be a kind, if slightly reserved man. Still, she understood what he meant. Riley wasn't the same either, though she was desperately clinging onto herself or the idea she had of herself.

"It was a liability," Ethan replied flatly, leaning back in his seat, hand withdrawing from hers for a moment. "Something that got in the way. I've lost a good number of people I've cared about, and it's made it difficult to find it in me to let people in again, but with you it's...different. Easy."

Her expression had been serious as she listened to him but now they softened. While she could relate to it and agreed that it was easier to push your feelings away, bury them somewhere deep down, Riley had never been able to do it. The world was harsh enough as it was. But people were different and dealt with things differently.

"Easy." Riley repeated as if tasting the word. What did that mean? She watched him for a while, the silence that enveloped them becoming uncomfortable. Her mind was racing. This wasn't the first time she had to control herself so as not to stand up, walk around the table and throw her arms around him. She looked down at her plate and forked the last piece of meat. "Good." She blinked. "That makes me happy." Riley finished her meal and became suddenly more quiet. In her mind, the onslaught of emotions and thoughts was frustrating.

When he had also finished his meal, she stood and took both of their plates to the kitchen. She put them in the sink and poured water they kept in a bucket and rinsed them off. "I hope you liked the meat." She said, desperate to end the silence.

"It would have been a great deal more bland if you hadn't lucked out and found that thyme - I'm just glad it's going on something it belongs on, not fish," Ethan chuckled, taking and drying the plates as Riley placed them on the counter, seeking any excuse to be near her in that moment. "Is something still on your mind? You seemed a bit quiet - if.. If I've said anything wrong, let me know. We're bound at the hip, I don't want anything brewing between us."

She wiped her hands on a towel and threw it on the counter. Awkwardly, she massaged her neck but didn't meet his eyes with hers. There were a million answers she could give but none of them seemed right. There was a storm in her mind and for a moment, it seemed so stupid that this caused her such trouble, given the world they lived in. She felt silly. Riley appreciated Ethan's remark and his good mood, but his closeness didn't make it any easier for her.

"Ethan, I-" She began, leaning against the counter with her hand still rubbing that spot on her neck. Words stuck in her throat for several reasons and she wished she hadn't even begun. "I'm fine." She drew out, though it was only a whisper.

"Your tone suggests otherwise," he said calmly, barely above a tender whisper. "But I'll drop it - just don't feel you have to keep quiet if you don't want to."

He stepped back, leaving a space between he and Riley and hovered by the door to the rear porch. Already the sun had descended back over the edge of the lake and the stars were beginning to peek out, sparkling in the hazy, wind-and-ice-swept landscape. The moon shone with a dim glare, still outdone by the fading light of the sun, casting a orange-silver glow along the wintery haze.

"How about we get the blankets and watch the sun set? No words," he suggested with a faint smile.

She raised her eyes now and watched him. Part of her was angry at him for stepping away, which was confusing in itself, and another part of her was angry at herself for not saying what she wanted to say, but couldn't. She sighed, offered an equally faint smile and nodded.

In short order she had found the blankets and returned to him. Stepping out onto the rear porch, she offered him a blanket and then wrapped the other around herself. The way the fire of the sun met the icy cold of winter and the silver and blue of the night, cast their small world in a beautiful light. "Had things not been the way they are, I would have moved here much sooner."

"I don't think either of us could have afforded it," Ethan replied, laughing softly. "My dad used to take me on these long hunting trips, and we'd always take the last day on the lake in a house like this."

He paused, almost bewildered. His last memory of his father was not of blood seeping from open bites, or the way he had been when at last he had turned, or the pallid corpse he had left behind when his mother had shot him. Ethan could recall his face - his true face - and remember the drives out east. It had been years since everything had fallen apart, splitting his life cleanly into what had been and what was now.

"And… it's odd. As I'm sitting here - I… I can see him," he added after a pause, swallowing back a hard lump in his throat. "Not.. Not how he died, but how he was when I was a kid. When we had a life where this was the dream because it was an escape from the real world, not just a convenient place for shelter."

Smiling, it was her turn now to reach over and take his hand. There was something very genuine about Ethan as he spoke. She wished she could say the same, but as the years went by it became increasingly harder to remember details about her own family.

"Do you look like him?" She asked suddenly, wondering if Ethan looked like his father. She moved closer to him, close enough that she could lay her head on his shoulder and listen to him as he spoke.

Ethan hesitated to let go of Riley's hand and instead wrap an arm around her shoulders as she approached, wanting not to infringe upon her distance as she set it after her discomfort earlier. He nodded in answer to her question, struggling to find the words for a moment.

"Almost entirely," he said. "There were pictures of him when… When he was about my age before this all started, indistinguishable. Except for my eyes, I got those from my mom."

He cast a glance down at Riley's own eyes looking up at him, a pang shooting down his spine. She was real - pressed against him, a warmth in the frigid air of the winter night. And she was constant in a way not even Haven had felt for all his years living there. Haven had not endured the worst, and though doubtless there was worse to come in the winter ahead, he did not feel that Riley would give out on him so quickly, so unexpectedly.

"I'm going to take a guess and say you take after your dad," he added after a brief pause to examine her. "Maybe not physically, but you strike me as a daddy's girl first - I know you mentioned fishing back on the road, but something tells me you two were alike in a lot of ways."
Something fluttered and spread in her chest at their closeness. She smiled and nodded. Ethan was right. It surprised her. When she and her dad had gone on trips years ago, it had been some of her favorite things to do. Some of her most cherished memories came from around the camp fire, her father telling scary stories when she was young.

"Look at you, hitting the nail on the head." She nudged him with her shoulder. "I'm a lot like him. Same as you, I have my mother's eyes, though." Riley closed her eyes. If she focused really hard, she could sometimes recall her mother's smell. But not now. Now she breathed in the scent of Ethan. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand and she turned her head to look at him once again.

"It's a good thing I take after him. I wouldn't have kicked your ass at fishing if it wasn't for him."

"And we might have both starved," Ethan added lightly, smirking. "But I'm still going to catch up to you."

Ahead of them, the sun had almost finished its descent, and only the faint pink-orange glow of its fading light gave any indication of its presence. It was beginning to become so dark that Ethan could only just make out the shape of Riley in the blankets beside him, the starlight reflected in her eyes. Without thinking of his earlier inhibitions, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, sighing softly, leaving that which he suspected to be catching Riley up unspoken as he realized he, too, was circling around the same uncertainty as she was.

"If only every day could end like this," he said softly, as if worried they might be overheard.

Quiet. For a moment she watched him in the encroaching dark. His arm around her made her feel safe. Riley mustered up some of the courage she knew she had. She let her hand gently rest on his cheek and turned his face so she could look at him. Her heart was pounding against her chest.

"It could." She whispered. Riley inched her face slowly closer to his, looking from his lips to his eyes. At first she looked for any sign of reluctance in Ethan's eyes, but then she was too close. His lips were too close and she had already stepped over the edge.

Confusion lingered for a split second on Ethan's face as Riley pulled his face closer, but gave way to swift understanding and then want as she leaned in. The arm wrapped around her shoulder slid, hand coming to gently cup her face as Ethan's lips met Riley's softly at first, his other hand likewise gripping her face, simultaneously like one dying of thirst clutching a bowl of water and with the gentle care and ease with which he had held her hand just moments before.

She exhaled deeply, one hand still on his neck and the other gripping at his shirt. There was a tremendous relief not only because Ethan now knew, but also because she hadn't been kissed in such a long time. She had been afraid she would have forgotten how to, but it took them only a brief moment to find a common rhythm and move with each other and quickly, she remembered.

Riley paused after a few moments, resting her forehead against his. Tears stung her eyes for reasons she couldn't explain. She let her thumb trace his lips, wanted to speak but found no words and then she eagerly kissed him again, already missing the feeling.

Ethan surrendered without protest to the second kiss, lost in the feeling of Riley as they embraced, drawn from it only as he felt a drop land upon his thumb as it caressed her face. He leaned back, noting the tears still fresh in her eyes and felt his cheeks grow flush as he realized that not only had their bubble burst, and with it a host of emotions to process over the coming weeks, but that Riley was crying, which in their world meant pain.

"Are… are you ok?" He asked, that same hushed tone lingering in his voice. "Did, did I do something to hurt you?"

"No, Ethan." Riley said, almost laughing at his question. "No, you didn't." She wasn't sure how to explain it to him. There were too many emotions for her to put into words. But she smiled at him, a few more tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hand rested on his neck and the other was still clutching at his shirt. "Idiot." She whispered, shaking her head at him, still smiling.

She wanted his lips again, but controlled herself. She wiped her tears away and then looked up at him, keeping close still. The cold had crept under the blanket, causing her to shudder. Pulling it tighter, she slowly let her eyes meet his.

"Habit," he said, exhaling a shaky breath. "I don't think I've seen anyone cry in anything remotely resembling joy in… Well, in a long time…"

Gingerly, as if still worried Riley was hiding some unannounced pain from him, Ethan brushed aside her tears and pulled her close as the chill air rose, the air growing increasingly cold around them. Though the blood had rushed to Ethan's face, it was beginning to grow so frigid that even that was beginning to lose to the icy touch of the outside. His hand slipped and cupped Riley's face by the chin, pulling it up and stealing another kiss from her softly.

"And, another habit," he said, closest to a joke he had mustered that had not been about their survival since meeting her.

Her eyes fixed on his. She felt light as a feather, though the cold was gnawing at her. Riley then wrapped her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. Then she shuddered again and stepped back. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing."

Turning, she led the way back inside the house. The fireplace offered a dry, intense warmth even though it was the sole source of heat in the building. She stepped over to the fireplace and poked at the embers. What was left would burn out before the morning. She approached Ethan again and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to bed." She said, though she wanted to stay up all night and talk to him. Something told her that when he did lie down next to her, she wouldn't be able to sleep and most likely end up looking at him for a large part of the night.

Ethan followed Riley by wordless agreement, drifting behind her as she made her way up the stairs. He barely even remembered to douse the fire before they went to bed, ensuring the top of the stairs were still loosely barricaded as Riley curled up under the covers. Without hesitation, Ethan slid close to her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight for fear she might vanish or that the moment might fade into nothingness.

They lay there, neither speaking, for a long time. Both were too wired to sleep, too enamored with the other to do anything that might end the night early. Delicately, Ethan brushed aside a strand of Riley's hair, enjoying the silence enveloping the lake house, enjoying the feeling of Riley pressed against him, the scent of pine in her hair.

She stared at him, enjoying the embrace. Her hand was resting on his ribs. Inside her head, her thoughts raced back and forth, but even so she didn't know what to say. It was hard to even make out what she was thinking. There were too many feelings. Too many questions. Words weren't made for moments such as these, she thought to herself. Riley rested her forehead against his, taking in his scent. The way he brushed a hair away from her face sent a chill down her spine.

"Thank you." She finally said, though she couldn't explain why. Her eyes flicked up to meet his but quickly they looked down at his lips again. "Just…" She trailed off, moving her hand to gently caress his back. "Just thank you."

"You never need to thank me," Ethan said slowly, chills blossoming and spreading down his back at her touch. "Never - we're in this one in the same, don't forget it."

She nodded and then smiled. Something fluttered in her stomach and she looked up at him and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. Then her hand wandered up along his back, to his neck and then the back of his head and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

 

[ze_kraken]

​

Ethan awoke with a start so violent it almost wrenched him upright. Just as quickly as whatever dreams had haunted him had flashed behind his closed eyes they had vanished, leaving him confused in the dark room for a moment. He gazed about, unable to ascertain where he was - was he back in his room in Haven? No. The bed felt too wide. He shifted, rubbing his eyes meekly, suddenly feeling the familiar warmth of Riley close to him. He let out a relieved sigh, nerves calming as he shifted delicately out of bed as not to disrupt her rest.

Dawn had yet to break out over the lake, but Ethan could spot its pale pink tendrils just beginning to reach out over the horizon when he went to check through the bedroom window. Another hour, perhaps less - no use in trying to go back to sleep now. Groggily, a headache just barely thrumming a dull steady beat between his temples, Ethan seated himself in an arm chair by the window and waited for the sun to rise.

Just as dawn was visible, its hazy pink outline casting light along the grey, overcast winter morning, Ethan gently leaned atop the bed, planting a quick kiss on Riley's forehead. She stirred, stretching for a moment before her eyes opened to look at Ethan, a sleepy smile stretching at the corners of her lips.

"Good morning," Ethan said softly, returning her smile, a hand stroking her cheek gently. "I'll go get breakfast started."

The two shared breakfast of leftover elk steak, though portioned off smaller than that night had been. After that was done, they each took a handgun and supplies to make traps, heading out along the routes they had discussed over breakfast to begin to lay out traps for game. Ethan doubted they would land any larger game, given that hibernation was to start in earnest in the next few weeks, but it was a more reliable food source than fish was when the lake was liable to freeze over on occasion.

The day was as frigid as the one before had been, and Ethan was sure to keep his hands tucked in his pockets and a scarf wound tight around his face to stave off frostbite. The first series of traps were easy to plant - some along the road upon which their house sat, some closer to town, others still further out back towards the farmhouse. Riley had taken the shore of the lake and its surroundings, with either of them ready to fire a shot in the air if they got into trouble. The thought loomed over Ethan as he worked - every snapping twig or rustling leaves caused him to twitch and spin around, as if expecting the shot to come any moment.

Distressingly, he saw more signs of human presence they had not tracked in the days since first noting the slain elk weeks ago. Around the town square objects had been moved about in ways animals were unlikely to accidentally achieve, or the elements shift about. Car doors had been opened, windows previously left with their blinds open had been shut, and he could spot the remnants of footprints in the slush that lined the space beneath shop awnings. After that he kept his movements reserved, sticking to cover where he could as he worked.

Much to Ethan's relief the rest of the day's work went off without a hitch and before twilight he was back at the house, awaiting Riley's return eagerly, setting aside that evening's meal, keeping the fire low in case the smoke should alert whoever lurked about the lake to their presence. He heard Riley approaching up from the backdoor - her footfalls were like a familiar song to him - and he slid the door open, offering her a quick hug and ushering her inside, fetching a pot of water and setting it over the fireplace to boil as he rummaged about for teabags they had found in a convenience store a week prior.

 

[Morgan]

​

Even though it had been cold for some time now, it felt like it had truly set in now. The wind felt colder and it bit whenever you dared to venture outside. Even though she wore gloves and covered her face, the cold bit at her exposed skin and her fingers were numb and slow. Riley hadn't expected it to become any colder than it already was. It worried her. But as much as she had spent the last few months worrying about everything, there were other thoughts and emotions that filled her mind now. Ethan. The night before. That same morning. As she had worked out in the cold, setting up traps, she had smiled to herself occasionally as she dwelt on the pleasant memory of the previous evening.

As Ethan let her go, she enjoyed the feeling of the warmth of the cabin seeping under her clothes to banish the cold. She rubbed her hands together and then raised them to her mouth to blow hot air into them. They began to sting a little as warmth returned to them. She took off her jacket and walked further into the cabin, past the kitchen area and to the fireplace. When she spotted Ethan with two teabags she smiled.

"Perfect."

It didn't take long for the water to boil. Once they had both been equipped with a cup of tea, they sat and talked about their day for a while. Both of them had noticed clear signs of other humans in the area. An 'alarming amount', as Ethan had said, to which Riley could only agree. There had been tracks in the snow where she had set up her traps. As far as she could see, they swung in a wide arc around their cabin, most likely because they knew that she and Ethan lived there. She sighed as if to get rid of the worry that washed over her. They agreed on keeping a keen eye on the surroundings constantly and checking on their defenses. It was winter and that could make other survivors desperate. Clearing her throat, she pushed her chair out and stood. Her cup was empty, the tea having provided a comfortable warmth throughout her body.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to put my stuff in the garage." As she passed Ethan she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, though in truth she wanted to wrap herself around him and stay there. But as neither of them had talked about what exactly the events of the previous night meant, she figured she would take things easy. It was difficult, however, to control the desperate need for physical contact and affection that coursed through her. But determined as always, she continued and went to the backpack she had set down by the back door. She slipped into her boots and walked outside. Walking around the house, she could almost feel the gathering dark as a heavy blanket being pulled over her. Once more, she was incredibly thankful for the cabin and their luck with finding food and supplies. For that had to be part of the equation as well.

The garage door opened slowly and she stepped inside. They had managed to keep it relatively tidy. Their tools were organized so they always knew where to find them. Not one to mess up their neat system, she began fishing things out of her pack. As all the items she had used during the day to set up the traps were laid out on the workbench, she began putting them in their rightful place.

"Don't move."

A big lump of panic dropped from her heart and landed somewhere in her stomach, where it dissolved and exploded into her veins like icy water. Riley raised her hands. What else could she do?

"Turn around, slowly."

His voice was firm but uncertain. There wasn't a powerful confidence behind his words. Still, she did as she was told. When she laid her eyes upon him, she saw a freezing young man with a gun in his hand. Whether it was because of the cold or nervousness she didn't know, but the weapon trembled as he pointed it at her chest. She eyed him cautiously.

"Get down." The young man commanded. When the woman before him hesitated, he took a step toward her and gestured violently with the pistol. "On your knees!" He hissed, careful not to raise his voice too much. When Riley knelt down he nodded. "Hands behind your back." Again she complied, though watched him still. Pointing the gun at her, he made his way to her side and produced a length of rope from his jacket pocket. Realizing that he would need both hands to tie hers, he placed his pistol on the workbench. Riley looked puzzled.

She wasted not a second, however. As soon as he leaned down and she felt the rope against her skin, she swung her head violently toward his face. Her forehead connected and the young man staggered back, clutching a bleeding nose. Riley jumped up and took the gun from the workbench. Heart pounding in her chest, she pointed it at her assailant who, in the meantime, had collected himself enough to focus on her.

"It's empty." He said, voice muffled as he was still clutching his nose. His other hand reached behind his back and he produced a hunting knife.

Click

Angry, she squeezed the trigger. He wasn't lying.

"You broke my fucking nose. You bitch!" The man hissed and it seemed as if he was trying to rid himself of his nervousness and muster up enough courage to attack. The two of them circled each other for a few seconds before the young man finally rushed forward. Riley dodged out of the way of his blade, almost crashing into a shelf. Her hands blindly reached for something to defend herself with. When they finally gripped something, she looked down to see a wrench in her hand.

Better than nothing. She reassured herself. Riley waited again, wanting her opponent to expose himself first. The one who opened with an attack would also be the one most open. It took a few long seconds before he had gathered up the courage. When he did, Riley swung hard at his wrist. Miss. The same thing repeated itself and her heart was beating so hard that she heard it in her ears. It was disorienting. This time, however, the wrench connected and she hit his hand. The one he was holding the knife in. But to her surprise, he didn't drop it. Riley watched him, breathing ragged and intense. The young man was starting to lose his temper. He put his blade into his other hand, clearly in pain from where Riley had hit him. He attacked again. This time Riley swung the wrench at his face, but his hand came up to block and with his left he stabbed at her. Riley grabbed his wrist and the two of them stood like that for a moment, struggling.

Knowing that she would have to break the stalemate eventually, she managed to swing at him again with the wrench, though only with little force. The young man had apparently expected this and accepted the hit to the temple. He countered with a first to her cheek and before she knew it, a blinding pain shot through her side. Crying out in pain, she collapsed onto the garage floor. Faintly, she heard the sound of metal hitting the concrete as well. Her pained cries were cut short though. Panicked, her attacker wrapped his hands around her throat and squeezed. He squeezed hard enough for her voice to give out and her breathing to become labored, but it was clear that his heart was not in it.

"Sh! Shh!" He almost pleaded. "Be quiet. Shh. Please be quiet! It'll all go away soon I promise. Shh!"

Panic swelled in her chest and while she wanted to put her hands on her wound, they automatically went to her throat to pry his hands away. This only made him tighten his grip. Riley could feel her own blood begin to run down her skin and soak the fabric of her clothes but there was nothing she could do to get away from him. Her eyes scanned the garage, searching for a weapon.

There!

To her right lay the knife. He had dropped it and was careless and panicked enough not to realize where it was now. Riley began to squirm more violently now, lungs begging for air. Her fingers stretched then toward the knife. Her index finger could just reach the hilt. She pushed it, made the knife spin and the blade was within reach. Quickly she got a hold of the hilt and wildly stabbed at the man. Once, twice. Riley didn't know how many times she stabbed him. Hot blood covered her hands and face. He struggled for a little bit, went limp and fell onto her. Riley used all her strength to push him away.

For a moment she lay there, breathing heavily. Then she winced in pain and fought not to cry out. He couldn't be the only one there. Even if he was, she didn't want to take the risk. If she was found now, she would be an easy target. Riley staggered to her feet and reached for one of their crossbows. But as it lay on the workbench she quickly realized that it would be too heavy and she wouldn't be able to load it. Tears began to sting her eyes as she didn't know what to do.

Ethan.

Riley took the bloody knife and stumbled out of the garage. She felt faint as she struggled through the snow. Her feet slipped a few times on the way back to the house, causing another intense pain to shoot through her body each time. She was losing too much blood. As she began to ascend the steps to the front porch, she began to listen for sounds of fighting but it was as if everything was becoming hazy. Her breathing was heavy and she couldn't stand up straight. Riley's right hand was clutching the knife and the other was clutching the wound in her right side of her lower abdomen. "Please.. Please be okay."

"Ethan!"

 

[ze_kraken]

​

Click.

Ethan had heard the sound of a gun cocking enough times in his life to recognize the sound. Wordlessly his hands slid from the table, slowly raised into the air. Suddenly the draft blowing in from the back door made sense - Riley had taken the front, and knew better than to leave it swinging open, battering its frame as a gust of wind bellowed from the lake outside.

His eyes shifted up to examine his would-be assailant. He was young, perhaps no older than 19 or 20. In his hand he clutched a revolver, and Ethan noted that this was no act: there were six rounds chambered, staring him down with their dull metallic tips. The young man's hands were shaking, the loose mechanism of his revolver clattering as his hand quivered.

"You don't want to do this," Ethan said dryly.

"Like fuck I don't," the young man replied, but the crack in his voice robbed his tone of any bravado the words might have carried.

"How many of you are there?"

"I'm not telling you a damn thing," the young man spat. "Now just sit there - there any others in here I should know about?"

"Another one upstairs," Ethan lied. "You shoot me, he'll hear, if he hasn't already."

The young man glanced nervously from the dining room to the front entranceway. He gestured his revolver to the door, nodding towards it.

"Stairs are that way?"

"That way," Ethan nodded, one raised hand pointing towards the door. "Stairs lead up, he's in the bedroom."

"Show me," the young man said. "Get up - nice and easy now, turn to face the door."

Ethan did as the young man ordered, hands still raised about his head. The young man patted him down, finding nothing that resembled a weapon. His revolver jammed into Ethan's back, urging him forward. He guided the man up the stairs.

"We've got company," Ethan said, trying to keep the lie alive as long as possible.

"You put any fucking guns you have down when we get in there!" The young man shouted. "Or your friend here gets it."

That sounded more convincing, Ethan thought as they reached the top of the stairs. Cautiously Ethan approached the door to the bedroom, only for his hand to be snatched away by the young man. Ethan froze in place, stepping back, spine protesting as it met the cold metal of the revolver.

"Tell your friend to open the door."

"Come on out," Ethan called to the door - the game would soon be up.

Then the young man made his fatal mistake. His weapon shifted from Ethan's back to the door - and as Ethan moved to take advantage of the slip, the young man's eyes flickered with the realization of his own error as well. Ethan slammed an elbow into the young man's gut driving the wind from him and knocking him back. Before the young man could recover Ethan rushed him, tackling him to the ground, the revolver sliding across the wooden floor and colliding with the wall with a solid thunk.

"I told you," Ethan heaved as adrenaline took over his limbs in a surge of energy. "You don't want to do this."

Ethan struck the man in the nose with a clenched fist, cartilage cracking beneath his knuckles. He withdrew his hand, shaking it as he felt his knuckles sting from the impact. Blood was already pouring from the young man's nose as he fumbled and reached for his gun. With a frantic hand Ethan reached for the young man's wrist, pinning it as the two began to roll on the ground and struggle for the revolver.

An elbow struck Ethan in the ribs, knocking him on his back and leaving the young man free to scramble for the gun. Ethan grunted and swung out with a hand, reaching for whatever he could grab as the young man staggered along his stomach. His hand gripped the bottom hem of his pant leg and yanked, closing the distance between them. The young man's boot lashed out, striking Ethan's wrist with enough force to draw blood. He yelped and withdrew the hand before lurching to his stomach and trying again with renewed vigor.

This time he was able to wrap a full hand about the young man's ankle and heaved, pulling him back down as the young man kicked and flailed about. Ethan pinned his ankle down, leveraging it to propel himself to his feet. He stumbled in place for a moment, planting a firm foot on the young man's back as he circled about on his free foot to reach for the gun. Just as he bent down to pick it up, the young man swept Ethan's leg out from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground but his hand had already wrapped about the handle of the revolver. Ethan clung to it for dear life, swinging it about as the young man staggered up and collapsed back atop Ethan.

Bang… Bang. Bang.

Three shots and the young man fell over atop Ethan, blood and gore spraying out his back as the shots punched through him as if he were made of paper. The body fell limp, and Ethan shoved it aside. The young man was still alive, gurgling and spluttering as blood continued to pool on the floor about him. Ethan roused himself to his feet, planting a booted foot atop the young man's chest.

"How many of you are there?" He repeated the question.

When no answer came, he dug the tip of his boot into the closest gunshot wound. The young man howled in agony, piercing cry breaking through his dribbling and whining.

"How many," Ethan demanded, but it was too late - the light had faded from the young man's eyes.

Then he heard the front door swing open. He wheeled about, revolver pointed clear at the door but. He took a second to identity the target, realizing in horror it was Riley.

Riley.

Ethan, pistol ready in one hand, rushed down the stairs and wrapped an arm about her. As he pulled back from the quick hug, he spotted bright crimson leaving a trail down his and her pants. He looked, seeing the hand clutching at a well of ruby red pouring from between clenched fingers.

"Are there any more?"

Riley managed to shrug her shoulders meekly and Ethan nodded. He shut the door behind her, hastily shoving a nearby standing side table to barricade before rushing Riley to the dining room table. He knocked aside the cups and plates atop the table and laid the revolver on one of the chairs, ensuring the safety was still off in case he had to reach for it later. He hoisted Riley up and gently laid her atop the table before rushing to fetch his pack upstairs. There he grabbed the alcohol they had found in Coker Creek what felt like a lifetime ago, some spare rags, and the kit Riley had used to suture his own wounds months previous.

Within just under a minute Ethan was back at the dining room table, using his survival knife to cut away the bloody fabric that clung to Riley's stomach. The wound was not good - Riley did not have long. Ethan swallowed back a hard lump in his throat as memories of clutching Laura flooded his mind. She had died in a similar way - blood loss. Only, hers had been a gunshot and…

She's. Dead. He reminded himself. Riley. Isn't.

But that was swiftly changing. The color was fading from her face fast, and there were tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched feebly at Ethan's wrist. Ethan fetched the alcohol and poured it into a scrap of cloth and pressed down gently on the wound. Riley cried out in pain, sending nails piercing Ethan's ears. He patted the space dry with another cloth, planting Riley's hands atop it.

"Hold it here," he said softly as he prepared the stitching kit.

The pain from Ethan's treatment caused adrenaline to fire through her veins. It helped against the dizzy feeling that had slowly increased as she lost more and more blood. She wanted to move but every time she moved a muscle, it tugged at the wound and that meant more pain and more blood.

Weak, sweating and with gritted teeth she tried to lay still. Then fear was thrown into the mix in her already swimming head. Riley knew that they had to stop the bleeding fast. On top of that, there was a decent chance that either more survivors or the dead had heard the fighting and were already bearing down on their location. Another tear spilled down her cheek and she reached out for Ethan with her free hand. Willing her eyes open she focused on him and spoke with a trembling voice.

"It's okay, Ethan. It's okay." She said, grip tightening on his sleeve. "If I d-die, don't let them get me." She sobbed and then winced as pain shot from the wound. "'Promise m-me."

"You're not going to die," he said, swallowing back a choked sob as he urged his hands to steady themselves. "Everything's going to be fine - they won't get you."

He spared a gentle pass along Riley's cheek before shifting his attention back to the stab wound in her side. With the stitching kit in hand, Ethan padded dry more of the fresh blood that had gushed from the injury with his sleeve before sticking the point of the needle in the flesh about the wound.

"Sorry," he said as Riley convulsed in pain. "It won't be too much longer. Just one second…"

The work was slow, and sweat began to pour down Ethan's brow as he worked. Every second blood welled up, and despite his efforts to staunch the flow, Riley was growing paler and paler by the moment. She was speaking now, almost incoherently. Ethan's own words became jumbled as he tried to work at stitching the wound and comfort her at the same time. Minutes passed and at last the stitching was done. Ethan spun about, grabbing the alcohol again and padding around the injury with a freshly soaked bit of cloth, checking Riley's pulse as he did. It was slow, barely perceptible, but there thrumming away pitifully beneath his forefinger.

Her thrashing and convulsing had stopped, replaced with a meek groan of pain as her eyes flickered open and shut. Ethan rushed upstairs once more, fetching a clean enough shirt, taking it and putting water over the fire. Once it was at a boil, he soaked the cloth in the liquid to sanitize it. He kept an eye on the door and on Riley, blood still leaking out from her wound and dripping to the floor below.

After the cloth finished soaking, Ethan flicked it as dry as he could, cutting it into strips that he lay over the makeshift cooking rack they had put over the fire to dry. Once dried fully, Ethan wrapped a cloth strip around Riley's waist in a makeshift bandage and gingerly hoisted her up, carrying her up to the bed and laying her down.

"It's going to be ok," he whispered as they went. "It will be ok… Stay with me…"

She winced as he laid her down on the bed. Every little movement seemed to tug at the wound and caused her pain. But now it had dulled somewhat and the wound itself felt more numb. At the same time, she felt much weaker. She was sweating, pale and weak. The bleeding from the wound had slowed somewhat, which calmed the fear in her heart although she was still worried. Even in her confused haze, she was worried.

Riley's right hand reached out and closed around Ethan's collar and she whimpered, tears stinging her eyes again. She knew he wouldn't go anywhere without her, but she was afraid.

"Don't leave. Please, Ethan." She pulled him closer to her until she could reach his face. Her hand found his cheek where it rested as her eyes searched for his. Then it travelled to the back of his neck and she trembled, afraid to slip into unconsciousness. Another dull ache spread from the wound and Riley lay still, closing her eyes and gritting her teeth. "I'm sorry…" She whispered when the pain subsided. Riley looked away from him. "I was c-careless. I shouldn't have gone out alone."

"No, no, none of that," he croaked in response, gently pushing loose strands of hair from her face. "You'll be fine - it wasn't your fault. Everything is going to be alright. Don't worry."

He babbled on, not sure if the words made sense, not caring either. He kept one hand firmly pressed against Riley's bandage, the other cupping her neck tenderly as he kept glancing back to the doorway for fear of others finding them.

A single tear spilled down her cheek and she closed her eyes to stop more from following. She caught his glances toward the doorway and worry washed over her again. In her current state she would be no match for an enemy, whether that enemy was dead or alive. Her eyelids were heavy and she began to struggle with staying awake. She felt a weariness creep into her body, one she knew she wouldn't be able to fight off.

"I'm so tired." Her voice was little more than a whisper. She still registered the pain from her side, but it was pushed further back. "I'm so tired, Ethan." Her hand found his collar again but this time she didn't grip it with the same force as before.

"Sleep - I'll be right here," he said softly, stroking her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere…"

 

[Morgan]

​

Riley had fallen asleep despite her efforts to stay awake. Part of her was terrified to slip away and never wake up, at the same time she welcomed it as it relieved her of the pain she was feeling. Even as she slipped from consciousness she didn't have a clear thought in her mind. It was as if it became impossible to focus. She even felt her lips move but no words came - at least she didn't think so. And even if there did, they probably weren't making much sense. Without any sense of time, Riley dozed off and fell into a deep, deep sleep.

It was over half a day later before she woke up again. She was sweating, though she knew not if she had a fever. Under the covers she was hot and uncomfortable. Blood had seeped through the bandage Ethan had so gingerly applied. She had cried out for him, only to discover that he was in the room with her. He had shot up immediately and gone to her side. Weak as she was, she had asked him for a drink and something to eat, although the thought of food made her nauseous. But it was winter and she was weak and wounded and she had to eat.

Both of them knew, and had known before she was stabbed, that it would make things even more difficult if either of them got hurt. Food was scarce as it was, they didn't have access to drugs and medical necessities they took for granted before the Fall. And now it had happened. In her haze, Riley had cursed herself for being so reckless.

With great determination she had managed to drink water and eat a little bit of soup. She couldn't remember them having soup and wondered if perhaps Ethan had made some. She would have asked him about it, but once she was done eating, he helped change her shirt and clean the wound and apply a fresh bandage and Riley had fallen asleep again.

When she woke up again, she had no idea of what time of day it was or how much time had passed. It felt like she had slept for a week, but that couldn't be right. Could it? Riley turned her head toward the window. The curtains were drawn but she could see sunlight filtering through. Her eyes felt heavy and there was a dull ache in the back of her head. Riley cleared her throat as it felt dry and her voice was rusty and coarse from lack of use as she called out for Ethan. He was not in the room. Her heart beat a little faster in her chest, although she tried to stay calm. There was no use in panicking, but she couldn't help herself worrying.

"Ethan!" She called again, though only a little louder. When she tried to move, pain shot through her side and she fell back onto her pillow, clenching her teeth. A few moments later, Riley tried again and moved slowly this time, managing to get herself to sit on the side of the bed. Looking down, she noticed that a little bit of blood had seeped through the bandage but decidedly less so than the last time she was awake - whenever that was.

Her stomach ached from hunger and she was thirsty. In fact, she was in quite poor condition. Frowning, she sighed and rested her head in her hands for a moment. Her hair hung loose and fell over her shoulders. As if per reflex, her hands moved up to tie it in a ponytail, but the pain it caused her made her stop. Angry at how little she could do without pain shooting from her wound, she sighed again. "Ethan!"

 

[ze_kraken]

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Days had passed in deafening silence. It was a silence of things lacking - for had there been even the gentlest scrape of snow atop the frozen ground or gust of wind through the hills it would have broken the silence that had built itself along the lake. If there had been the idle sort of chatter that often arose throughout the day, it might have filled the halls of the lake house with its warm breadth. Only, just as there was no wind or snow or water to shatter the silence, there were no words spoken.

Ethan for his part had done little to acknowledge or disrupt the eerie quiet that had built about him, save for disposing of the bodies of the two men. Those two he left in town square, having dragged them atop a makeshift sled Riley had crafted at first snowfall. The dragging of wood beneath graveled, icy road continued to scrape through his mind as palpable as the tug of one's clothes: ever-present, but acutely obvious only when one spared much attention to the way a seam fit or a fold fell. Only, though he burdened the weight of the two men and recalled the sound of tossing their bodies out for the crows and the dead, it did little to break the silence.

By the dawn of the third day, he had resigned himself to the silence, accepting its companionship. It was then the silence evolved from one of things lacking to the patient, subdued sound of a man waiting to die. Ethan's mind lay empty of all but the half-connected synapses of some survival instinct only partially remembered - his movements were sluggish and reluctant, as if coerced by a will that was not his own. In his eyes hung a haggard sort of tired, not one of a missed night's sleep but of an exhaustion so complete it wore at the bones and threatened to crush its victim with pin vice strength.

He shuffled about the living room, glancing at trailing blood stains left half-scrubbed, the cloth and water bucket left so forgotten at the base of the stairs Ethan had to recall why it had been placed there in the first place. And recollection brought the reminder that Riley lay somewhere in the twilight between life and death in the bed upstairs. Ethan had done his best to change her bandages and keep her wound clean, and at times Riley offered a respite from the silence by stirring in bed or muttering incoherent nonsense but by the end of the first day Ethan found the silence more reliable and less painful than the constant teetering between hope and despair with Riley's each slumbering action.

So it was then first Riley called his name he discredited it as a lingering memory of the sound, as distant yet present as the scrape of the sled on rocky, snow-blanketed earth. It would be lost to the cold, familiar embrace of the silence before long. Ethan cast the noise aside, resuming tending to the meager fire he had managed to stoke with his weary and reluctant muscles. Its warmth was itself an echo, adding its own meekly defiant ebb and flow of cherry-red embers to the silence of things lacking about Ethan.

"Ethan!"

It was louder this time, and though Ethan wanted nothing more than to be left to his peaceful misery, his legs urged him to his feet and carried him listlessly to the stairs. One by one he scaled them, mind as blank and cold as the floorboards that creaked and groaned under his feet. Their voices cast back the hollow silence for a moment, and in that brief relief Ethan found a budding hopefulness blossom in his chest. He hurried his pace, exhaling softly as his hand lingered above the doorknob. He drew in a sharp breath, almost coughing it back out as the frigid air probed its dagger-like fingers through his lungs.

When the door swung open on rusty hinges, the silence finally lifted, and Ethan's breath caught in his throat in a half-choked sob. Riley lay awake - looking every bit as close to death's doorstep as she had just three days prior - but awake and alive and alert. Ethan collapsed to his knees by the edge of the bed, clutching Riley's hand tightly, as if letting her hand slip would be to let her soul depart. His knuckles strained white, and he swallowed back the worst of his mewling sobs even as hot tears spilled down his cheeks. A series of ragged breaths followed, fighting back against the still-lingering hollow silence, and Ethan let his eyes meet Riley's for what felt to be the first time in decades.

"Hey," was all he managed to croak, voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears, as if muttered by a stranger.