Hiding Out

[Eastern Orange]

Julian did his best to ignore the cold. He ignored the icicles in his wet hair, he ignored the biting wind that went straight through his jacket, and he ignored the snow flakes when they came, but he could no longer ignore it when his hands started to shake. Your hands can’t be shaking when you’re whittling. It just doesn’t work, which is why Julian ended up slicing open the side of his thumb. He yelped, and dropped the knife and the chunk of wood, shoving the wound in his mouth. “Great!” He growled, around his thumb.

Julian was sitting in the forest, just out of sight of the buildings of District 7. He was nestled in a hollow tree that did little to protect him for the cold. He had been out there all morning, whittling, as he often was. He was freezing his ass off, but he refused to go back to his Manor hidden in the woods, and as he had no friends to impose on, so he was stuck outside. But he welcomed it. It was peaceful in the quiet forest, and the coldness helped clear his mind.

He ran his unwounded hand through his frozen hair, cursing himself for being stupid enough to take a shower before heading out that morning. He hadn’t thought about it when he got up this morning at the crack of dawn. He realized that he was in a crappy mood, and that he would kill someone if he stayed trapped in the house all day, so he had hopped in the shower and left before anyone else was up.

The sound of a twig breaking behind his tree interrupted his musing. Julian picked up the knife that he had dropped, and quickly forgot about his throbbing wound. Images of wolves, bears and even humans flashed through his mind. He gulped, leapt out of his tree, and turned to face the direction of the noise. Nothing was there. “Come out!” He ordered, assuming it was some kids trying to mess with him.

A big black mass jumped over a bush and charged at Julian. Julian braced himself as the thing got nearer, but was unprepared when then thing tackled him to the ground. Remembering his knife, he was about to shove it into the creature’s ribs when he recognized the shape. “Czar!” He yelled angrily, shoving the dog off of him.

He stood up, and brushed the snow of his clothes, ignoring the dog that bounced around him, shaking his tail furiously. “I could have killed you, you know!” He yelled. “Go home!” He pointed back towards Scott Manor. The dog did not react, just stared up at him with big brown eyes. Julian scowled at it, and crossed his arms and turned to go sulk in his hollow tree. The dog followed.

Julian hated the big furry animal, but Czar was infatuated with Julian. Czar followed him around everywhere. Julian has tried everything to get Czar to stay at the house, but the dog always ended up trailing him.

[Deleted]

Why, today of all days, does my mother need baking ingredients? Oh, of course, it's ten below outside with snow up to your eyeballs, so let's send Aria on a five mile walk into town to get some flour. I scowl angrily as I hug my fleece-lined corduroy jacket more tightly around my body, kicking viciously at the nearest snowdrift with a hiking boot-clad foot. Unfortunately, I'm standing on a patch of ice, and the change in my momentum sends me sprawling down to the ground, straight into a pile of snow. Letting loose a long stream of obscenities, I extricate myself from my frigid white prison and stand back up. I brush myself off, still cursing, now ten times as cold as I had been a few seconds ago. Four and a half more miles to go. Four and a half miles on an icy path that winds around pointlessly and takes the longest way possible into town. Psh, screw this. I'm cutting through the woods.

I hop off the path and head into a nearby clump of bare-branched oak trees, setting off in a southern direction towards town. If I cut straight through the woods, I can make it to the grocery in a few minutes. Granted, I'd be in some serious trouble if some Peacekeeper caught me wandering through the woods without a specific job I was supposed to be doing. God forbid I steal a twig from the Capitol. I laugh dryly at my own sarcasm, and then grumble to myself about my mother and her stupid cake when I notice that my teeth are chattering. I really should have brought a hat and a scarf. I reach up and free my hair from its ponytail, letting it fall in golden waves down to my shoulder blades. At least that will keep my ears a bit warmer.

The voice startles me so much that I physically jump, my breath catching in my throat.The source of the sound is so near, and yet I can't see anyone here besides myself. Who is it? A woodcutter who didn't get the memo that work was cancelled because of the impending snowstorm? A Peacekeeper on the lookout for troublemakers? This thought almost sends me turning tail and running back to the path, but you know what they say, about curiosity. I move through the snow towards the direction from whence the voice had come. I wasn't really paying enough attention to know what was said, but I know it was short. A one word exclamation.

I round the trunk of an exceptionally large tree about fifty feet to the right of where I had been standing, and there he is. He looks to be about my age, maybe older. Dark hair that's wet and frozen, dark eyes that are almost as wide-set as my own hazel ones, paler than the norm for kids around here. He's holding a knife, I notice. Maybe I should just get out of here.

"Come out!"

Shit. He knows I'm here. How? Surely he hasn't seen me, I'm well concealed behind this tree. I'm beyond considering running now, this kid has a pretty sizeable blade in his hand, and I only have my pocket knife for protection. I'm turning around to run the hell out of here when I see the black blur come flying out of the foliage, leaping onto the dark-haired guy. Cursing my sympathy under my breath, I flick open my pocket knife, starting to run into the fray to help him out. I've only taken a few steps when I realize that the black blur is a dog, and Frozen-Hair-Boy is shouting at it. Finally, he crosses his arms frustratedly and stomps back into the hollow of a tree, followed by the huge animal. The dog's wagging its tail like an excited puppy and frolicking around Frozen-Hair-Boy. I decide the kid must be okay. Animals can read people better than other people can by a long shot. That's why we've had dogs guarding our crap for centuries. They know when someone's up to no good. I step out of the trees, walking toward the hollow where the boy is curled up. What can I say, he intrigues me. You know what they say about curiosity.

"You do know it's snowing, right? This isn't exactly the best place to be with wet hair. You'll get sick."

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

The dog barked, warning me that someone was approaching. I grumbled under my breath about stupid siblings following me around. But it wasn’t one of my siblings that appeared, it was girl my age. I must admit, my curiosity was aroused…but then the girl opened her mouth, and curiosity turned into annoyance. I gave her a flat look. “Oh really?” I said, mock surprised. “This is snow? I thought the clouds were having babies.” I pulled myself to my feet and ran my hands through my frozen hair, trying to shake out the ice. “And here I thought having frozen hair was a remedy for spots on your liver. I’m so dumb.”

The dog started barking and jumping on the girl. He was so big that he could place his paws on her shoulders. “Get down, Czar!” I growled at him, taking hold of his collar and pulling him backwards. “Bad!” I yelled, making like I was going to slap his nose, but stopping short of actually hitting him. I’m not that mean. But all he did was turn his head, and start licking my hand. “Sorry, I’m afraid he is mentally deranged. It is impossible to train him.” I had no clue why I was talking to her. But she hadn’t given me any reason to hate her…yet. Which is more then I can say for most people.

“Julian Scott.” I said abruptly, thrusting my right hand out so we could shake. I wasn’t one to just stand around awkwardly and wait for someone else to say something. If we were gonna talk, then talk we shall! Though, I probably shouldn’t have told her that I’m a Scott. We were known for being the stuck up rich snobs that hide away in their mansion. Not that I mind, of course, because that is what we do. Well, not me. I like a good day of honest, hard work, and I don’t hate the other people in the District because they aren’t as rich as us, like my mom. I hate the other people because I hate everyone equally, including my family. It is my ambition to separate myself from them, and earn my own way through life, instead of living of my father’s money like the rest of my good for nothing family.

ooc: Don't worry. ^.^ Julian isn't always this....abrasive.

[Deleted]

ooc - I actually like his attitude. Aria's probably the most abrasive person in District 7, she can dish it right back. I'm sensing a love-hate friendship here.

I scowl deeply at Frozen-Hair-Boy's sarcasm, fighting down the urge to cut my losses, flip him the bird, and walk away. Maybe the kid's having an off day, I don't know. I lose all sympathy for him when he bats his hand at the cute large dog that had been trying to play with me. Now instead of fighting the urge to flip him off, I'm fighting the urge to slug him square in the face. I prefer animals exponentially to people, and people who treat their animals badly fall somewhere between pond scum and sewage on my list of things I'd like to be around. I bite my tongue, though, and glare at him fiercely as he introduces himself, extending his hand. Julian Scott. What a pansy name.

Of course, I've heard of the Scotts. Bunch of rich snobs that hole themselves up in a huge mansion far away from the rest of us, the unwashed masses. Still, I'm pretty glad I didn't let loose and punch the kid's lights out. For all I know, his family has connections with the Peacekeepers, and I'd be royally screwed. I'd better keep my temper in check. But just because I can't sock him doesn't mean I can't be a complete and total bitch to him. I've proven myself to be pretty good at that. You develop a solid defense mechanism when you spend your school career being teased about your broad shoulders and larger build. You start sending kids to the hospital. When you get in trouble for that, you start cussing kids out in the hallways. When you get in trouble for that, you finally cave under the weight of the insults and stick your finger down your throat, once, twice, three times a day until you can count your ribs and there's no physical way for you to get smaller. And then when you try to stop, you find out you can't. Nothing you do can stop your stomach from purging itself anymore. So you give up. I may have given up at school and home, but out here in the woods, in my territory, I've still got my spark.

"Aria Fowler," I say coolly, taking a firm grip and Julian's hand and giving it a single shake. Up. Down. Release. "He wasn't bothering me. Your dog, I mean. He was just playing. Maybe he wouldn't get so excited around other people if his master wasn't an asshole to him and actually paid him some attention."

I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. What am I thinking, standing here preaching animal rights to one of the Scott kids, and rudely at that? This kid's family can take every thing I love from me - my house, my family, my job - all in one fell swoop, and here I am insulting him. But it's too late for logical reasoning. My temper has kicked into high gear, and the next statement comes out so acidly that it shocks even me. "Maybe he's smarter than you and knows you're going to catch pneumonia, so he's trying to get you home."

So now I'm taking jabs at his intelligence. Oh, 'Ria, I think, smirking sardonically to myself. You really are a glutton for punishment. But, really, it just feels so good to be short and irritable with someone after all the time I spend forcing myself into a docile, zen-like acceptance of everything, a choked silence, that I don't think I can stop being mean when I get an opportunity like this. Maybe Julian's like that too. Maybe he has to be the perfect poster-child of affluence at home, and he comes out here to be a jerk. I am his newest target, and he is mine. Oh, the games we play.

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I snorted at the girl's weak attempt to dominate me. Was she trying to bully me into giving her money or something? What was with the insults? I throw in some sarcasm and I’m suddenly the devil’s spawn? Geez, these District folk are touchy. “Not my dog. I shouldn’t be the one loving it.” I shrug, looking down at Czar who was trying to attack the falling snow flakes. He growled at them as they floated by his nose; when they didn’t respond, he would move to another one and challenge it. I observed him for awhile, ignoring the girl. If she was gonna treat me badly, than she could wait. I was petty like that.

After awhile I put my hand back on my frozen hair. “Well, if he was smarter then me, then he’d know that it isn’t the cold that causes pneumonia. He’d know that it was either caused by bacteria, fungus, or a virus. So, if I were to come down with pneumonia, it would be because I had inhaled one of those things, and it would have nothing to do with my being outside with frozen hair. The cold would only exacerbate what I already had, so it doesn’t matter either way.” I said all this while still looking at Czar, now trying to attack the snow on his paws. “And when I said he was mentally deranged, I meant it. My older brother fed him a cocktail of chemicals when he was a pup, and he hasn’t been quite right since.” I looked up then, and stared her full in the eyes. I had said all this in a monotone, in hopes that I didn’t come off as pompous, even though I wanted her to feel stupid for verbally attacking me.

The wind picked up, and the snow came faster. I wanted to look up at the sky, but I didn’t take my eyes off of the girl. What had she said her name was? I knew that it made some people uncomfortable to have direct eye contact, and I wondered it she was one of those people. “He gets aggressive randomly, you know? Could turn on you at any moment. As I said, deranged. I probably just saved your life.” I added, letting a creepy smile snake across my face. Okay, I was just messing with her now. But what did she expect? She was the one getting all personal. I’m not one to roll over and take it.

[Deleted]

I will my brain to produce a caustic response, some sort of clever comeback, but the unsettling smile working its way across Julian's face is enough to throw me off the offensive. Maybe the dog's not the only mentally deranged thing out here. He's said everything so far without any emotion at all, staring blankly at me like I'm the most un-interesting, inconsequential thing in the world. He know's he's mentally outstripped me, at least for this round. But his face changes as soon as that creepy smile settles on his lips, running chills down my spine.

It's enough to make me pause, really getting a good look at the boy before me. Julian's a cruel sort of beautiful, something that's lovely and unsettling at the same time. Everything about him is sharp - his build, his angular features, the contrast of his dark, dark hair against the white of his skin. He has incredibly high cheekbones, no freckles marring his skin like I do, and thin-ish lips that seem to mold perfectly into that scarily attractive grin. His eyes are a peculiar, deep gray that I have never seen before, and they, too are sharp, cold and calculating as they take in the world around him. And now those frighteningly alluring eyes are fixated on me, making me shiver with apprehension and something else I can't quite place. Julian Scott, I decide, is like a nightlock plant. Nice to look at, but deadly if you get too close to it. And while I stand here reflecting on this, he is still gazing at me expectantly, ready for my next foray into our verbal sparring. Your move.

...And I draw a blank. Not only can I not come up with an insult, I can't wrap my lips around any words at all. I am a deer staring down the barrel of a hunter's gun. Speak. Say something. Stop making goo-goo eyes and make words flow from your mouth, you idiot.I find I can't come up with anything biting enough to be an insult, not when he's standing there grinning at me like the cat that swallowed the canary. I feel suspiciously canary-like at this moment. If, that is, the canary flew knowingly into the cat's mouth.

"Well, you will get something nasty if you're out walking around with an open wound on your hand." I find myself sliding my rucksack from my shoulder, opening the top, and rifling through it until my fingers close around the smooth plastic casing of my first-aid kit. Dad always makes me carry one because he's afraid I'll hurt myself bringing down a tree. As foreman of the sector in charge of felling pines, he says, he's seen a lot of nasty wounds that could have been made much easier to deal with by the use of a good first-aid kit. I pry open the white box, groping around for a roll of gauze, some medical tape, an alcohol swab, and a tube of antibiotic ointment. I stuff the remainder of the kit back into my bag and take a few steps towards Julian. What are you doing?! You don't know him! Start thinking with your head and not your eyes, girl! Just because he's nice to look at doesn't mean he won't knife you. Or have you forgotten about the HUGE KNIFE the boy happens to be holding?

I tell the voice of reason in my head to stuff it. "You want some help with that?"

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I was unsettled by her staring. Not because she was looking at me, but because of how she was looking at me. I felt myself bristled and I was on the verge of growling. Why was she looking at me like that? No one had ever looked at me liked that before, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

When she did speak, I relaxed when she started speaking, but I’m not going to lie. I was disappointed that she didn’t come back with a witty riposte and merely commented on my hand. She was all bite just a moment ago? What had changed? Was a creepy look all it took to unsettle people around here? Or was it that I was overly creepy? I didn’t if I should look at that as a good or bad thing.

I looked down at my wounded hand. The cut ran the length of the side of my thumb; from just below the nail, to just above the wrist. I had no clue how I had managed that. The flow of blood had ebbed, but it was still bleeding feebly. Now that I was looking at it, I could see little wood shavings from the wood I had been trying to whittle. She was right. It could get infected.

I watched with mild interest as she pulled something out of her bag. I was bemused to find that it was a first aid kit. I was going to make a snide comment about it, but stopped myself. I needed it didn’t I? I watched as she pulled out an assortment of items, apparently bent on fixing my hand. I felt my lips curl into an amused smile at her question. “Doesn’t look like I have a choice, do I?” But I didn’t give my hand to her. I looked at her suspiciously, not buying that she went from being a bitch to a concerned citizen.

[Deleted]

"You're kind of a snarky little shit, you know that?" I spit out, grabbing his wrist and tugging it sharply toward me to get a good look at the wound. Ah, there's my temper. Good, I thought it had left me. I inspect the cut, finding that it's going to take some serious cleaning to avoid infections. It's deep, running down the length of his hand, and there seem to be some foreign objects within the wound, possibly wood shavings. "How the hell did you manage to do this to yourself?"

I dig around in my bag for a water bottle, popping the top and pouring a stream across the wound on Julian's hand, grimacing at the coppery smell of blood tainting the pine-scented air. At least the water has washed a bit of the wood out of the cut, but some of it still clings within the wound. "This is pretty deep. The blood's clotting, but you might still need stitches. I'm going to have to get the blood flowing again to clean all this shit out of it."

I motion for Julian to sit down against the trunk of the tree, and crouch down myself, ripping the sealed packet containing the alcohol swab open. I rummage through my bag again with my free hand, pulling a bottle of iodine out of my first aid kit. Just to be safe, I'm putting every type of cleaning agent I can on the wound, just in case what I'm about to do doesn't get all the stuff out. I grip his wrist firmly with one hand, tugging the alcohol-soaked towlette out of its sterile pack with the other and flicking it through the air with a few sharp snaps to unfold it. I should probably be trying for some form of bedside manner, but my voice comes out somewhat more harshly than I mean it to. I'm so used to being hostile and detached around people that I have to dig deep to find where my kindness hides, and right now I'm too preoccupied with getting this cut cleaned before more bacteria can breach it to give a rat's ass about comforting Julian. "I need you to hold still for me. I'm going to have to get in there and scrub out the wound. Grit your teeth, squeeze something, I don't give a shit, just find a pain-coping mechanism. I won't sugarcoat it for you, this is gonna hurt like a bitch."

I grip Julian's wrist a bit harder and start the process, dipping the alcohol swab deep into the wound and scooping out any individual wood shavings I can spot. He might be crying out in pain, I know I would, but I tune it out. I know that if I listen to him, sympathy will kick in and I'll have to stop, which won't be good for him. One way or another this cut has to get cleaned, and fast. Everywhere I put the towlette, blood starts flowing freely. I grimace, knowing it must sting like hell, but keep going until I've dug all visible foreign objects out of the gash. I flick the crimson-stained alcohol swab over my shoulder, cracking open the bottle of iodine next to my leg. "This won't feel too good, either."

I pour a somewhat exorbitant amount of iodine into the wound, making sure it soaks everywhere Julian's skin has been breached. I'm now satisfied that the cut is sterilized, but I'm still tuning the world out lest he's crying out in pain and making me stop before I can get this thing wrapped. I squirt some of the antibiotic ointment onto the gauze bandage and press the medicated fabric over the cut, wrapping his hand tightly to help staunch the bleeding. I cover the bandage completely in medical tape, effectively waterproofing the dressing in case he gets his hand wet between here and wherever he's headed. It's only after all of my supplies are secured back in my rucksack that I allow myself to tune back into the real world, dusting off my jeans and shrugging offhandedly at Julian. "Sorry 'bout that. Had to be done."

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I smile as the fight comes back in her. I'm way more comfortable around the bitchy side of her, then that weird nice side. I wonder briefly if she is bipolar or something. But before my thoughts can turn into words, the girl is stepping forward, and grabbing my hand. My first instinct is to growl at her, and hit her. I'm not used to being touched, but she's moving to fast for me. And before I know it, I'm sitting down and she is shoving things violently into my wound.

I gasp in pain. "What the hell?" I snap, trying to pull my hand back, but she has it in a vice-like grip. "I'LL GIVE YOU PAIN-COPING!" I growl, and I'm about to punch her, but of course I don't. I'm not a coward. Men who hit women are cowards, especially if they are trying to help. I can't think, the pain is very distracting, as well as the dumb as dog barking his head of, and running around us like a crazed thing.

I'm calling her every name in the book, and a few I made up on the spot. But she was unyielding. Eventually I settled down, and put the handle of the knife in my mouth. She had just taken me by surprise, is all. Then she was done, and was wrapping up my hand. The dog was still barking like mad. "Sorry?" I growl around the handle. I take the knife out of my mouth, and stand up. I narrow my eyes at her, then I looked down at my hand, expertly wrapped. I look back up at her, suspiciously. "Why did you help me?"

I'm suspicious by nature. I don't trust anyone but myself. It's safer that way. I don't believe in the 'good in people,' everyone has an ulterior motive. I didn't give this girl any reason to help me, so why had she? She had even used her medical supplies, no doubt expensive and hard to come by.

I looked at her bag, where her medical kit was. "I'll get you more supplies." I offer as a thank you. I am immediately sorry for it. I'm implying that she was only helping me because she wanted something from me....well, let's be honest, that is what I think. But she still helped me, and I shouldn't treat her like that. "Sorry, what I meant is thank you." I say quickly.

There was a huge gust of wind, and the snow fell thickly. I looked up at the sky with concern. "Was there supposed to be a snow storm today?" I ask. Living so far away from the rest of the town, we didn't get many updates on such things.

[Deleted]

Julian glares at me briefly after I've finished wrapping his hand, and then starts talking. He says a few things, but the only statements I bother listening to are "Thank you"

[/b][/color] and "Why did you help me?" I open my mouth to answer him when the thought hits me. Why did I help him? I had no reason to. No reason to waste precious medical supplies. The only thing Julian Scott has ever done for me is be a creepy little jerkwad, so why was I so keen to help him out? I alway do my best to help out any wounded animal I might come across out here in the woods. I've gained a couple of pets that way actually, my fox cub Flint and my mockingjay Flicker. But Julian Scott is not a wounded animal. He is a wounded human, something I would normally have far less sympathy for. I wring my hands together, still trying to come up with something to say, and I spot my answer on my left hand.

"I know what it's like to be alone in the woods and hurt," I say, holding out the back of my left hand towards Julian, letting him see the huge starburst scar that marrs the freckled skin. "Brown recluse bite. I was five. The infection was pretty bad, and I almost died. I would have died, actually, if my brother hadn't found me in time."

I find myself smiling softly, shoving my scarred hand into the pocket of my cargo jeans. "I guess I saw you hurt without anyone to help you, and I figured that no one deserved that. Not even snarky little shits like you."

After I say this, my stomach gives a sharp grumble, a pang of hunger shooting through me. When was the last time I ate? This morning, early, I'm pretty sure. Yes, I ate before everyone else was up so no one would ask questions when I disappeared to the bathroom immediately after breakfast. Without a watch I can only assume that I ate/threw up breakfast about five or six hours ago. I should probably hurry up and get to town so I can Mom's flour and get home. However, it's snowing pretty hard, and I don't know how clear the path will be with snow drifts blowing around in this wind. I'm not really sure what I should do.

"Weather's pretty nasty, isn't it?"

A little too nasty for my taste, actually. It took almost an hour to fight my way a half-mile up the path from my house, and now the snow and wind are both kicking into overdrive. If it gets much worse, visibility will be reduced to nothing and Julian and I will be stuck outside in the middle of a blizzard. Couple of kids died that way last year, walking home from work. The snow started flying, they couldn't see, and they ended up wandering around blindly until they both froze to death. Fear spikes through my stomach taking the place of hunger. Julian and I need to get out of here, fast.

"So, where were you heading before you sliced your hand wide open, or were you going anywhere? I'm headed towards town, want to walk with me? I think we need to get inside before this gets any worse."[/color][/size][/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I looked down at her scar with interest. I have of course heard about the recluse, and I have seen pictures of what the bite can inflict. It wasn't pretty. "You'd know something about snarky little shits wouldn't you?" I reply, almost without thinking about it. It was second nature to me to be a dick.

"I wasn't in that much danger, though. It's a cut on the hand, not a deadly spider bite. Its cold out, so my blood vessels were constricted, limiting blood flow. The cold also kills the bacteria that could get in the wound and infect it. I would have been fine." I hear myself say all this, and I know as soon as I'm finished that it was bad taste. Shit. I had done it again. I rationalize everything, and I cant help but to correct people, and make myself look smart. I wasn't making myself look smart, though. I just looked like an ass.

"However," I say quickly "I'm grateful to you. I just meant that you can't compare what you must have went through with this." I gestured at my hand. "You could have died, and well...I wouldn't have." I struggle to make her understand that I wasn't trying to take another jab at her by saying that stuff.

I fall into despair. I'm such an idiot. I can't talk to people. I blame my mother. She kept all her kids locked in doors, and she never let us go out and interact with other people. The result? I can't talk to another person without trying to make them feel inferior. I can't relate to people. I hate people.

"I wasn't going anywhere." I mumble, I feel myself shift from arrogant to meek. I looked at my hollowed tree, where my half-whittled piece of wood laid. It was kind of a pathetic scene. "I can accompany you to the town, since you helped me with my hand. Though I have no ties in the town, therefore no where to go..."

[Deleted]

"I don't really know anyone in town either," I admit quietly. I don't have any friends at all at school, much less pal around with the popular town kids enough to ask for entrance into their home during a blizzard. I don't necessarily want to confess this to Julian, but pressing through four miles of snowy wilderness only to be stuck in the square without shelter is kind of pointless. But, I think, what else is there to do? A lot of ideas with highly improbable success rates pop into my head. Try to find a cabin inhabited by some old hermit out here in the woods, hope the stores in town will be open once we get there, try to find a supply shed for the woodcutters somewhere nearby, huddle together for warmth... wait... What the hell? No, none of that, freezing to death has to be preferable.

"By the way, I'm going to disregard your blatant douchebaggery until a later date when we are not at risk of freezing to death in a blizzard."

The only option I can think of is turning around and heading back to my house. Of course, bringing Julian along isn't a good idea. In addition to being an obnoxious pain in the ass, he's also an obnoxious pain in the ass whose parents will be expecting him at home soon. But who knows how far is house is from here. It could be miles, and no matter what his little medical-encyclopedia brain thinks, I know that he'll go into hypothermia if he's out in the cold with his frozen hair and inadequate clothing for much longer.

Oh, choices, choices. One: Tell Julian it's been grand and set off for home, letting him go on his merry way to a probable frozen death. Two: Haul the irritating (albeit attractive... Wait. Shut up.) little nuisance back home with me and let him stick it out there while his family combs the district looking for him, probably risking Peacekeepers beating down our door and arresting us all for kidnapping. Three: Stay here with him and try to weather the storm together. Time for logical reasoning, children.

I already know that the third option won't work. I'm shivering violently despite my warm coat, and, although he isn't complaining about it, Julian is going cyanotic, his skin and lips tinged a cool blue color. We've got about an hour tops before hypothermia will render him completely useless, and I know I'm not strong enough to drag him anywhere. I may have been pre-bulimia, but I'm certainly not now. This reasoning leaves me with options one and two. As I've already told myself, Julian probably has a little over an hour before he's immobile. There's no way we'll make it up the uncleared path, or even through the sparsest of woods in that time, not to mention that we're not guaranteed shelter in town anyways. I groan heavily. Charges of first degree kidnapping it is.

"Look, we'll never make it to town, this weather's only getting worse. My house is about a quarter-mile back the path, and I've already cleared a way through the snow. You can come with me, we can try to tolerate each other, and wait this out in from of a warm fire. Or you can stay here and freeze to death. Your call."

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I wince at her suggestion. How much more would she make me owe her? I was already in her dept with the whole medical treatment, and now she was going to offer me shelter from a blizzard? I'll have to return the favor, but how? I hate when people have some hold on me.

I lean my head pack, and pinch the bridge of my nose between my pointer finger and thumb. "My house is an hour and a half walk with no snow to impede me. I can't say how long it would take me now..." I shake my head, and stare at her. Hard. What was she playing at? Why is she helping me? She sure doesn't seem to like me in the least, with all these names she is throwing at me. Has she even called me Julian? I don't think so. Well, I guess I can't talk because I forgot her name.

"Are you sure?" I ask. I can't think of one good reason she'd want to save my sorry ass. "I mean, won't your parents or whoever you live with, care? It could be a few days, if not more, before I could even leave." I leaned forward and searched her face for some sort of deception. "And of course, you'd get that." I nod my head toward the big black beast that was my dog. He was currently trying to scratch his ass on a tree. "I can't leave him out here." As much as I wanted to ignore the damn thing, he really was my only companion.

I wasn't only worried about being in her dept. I was also worried about meeting more people. What if my father had committed some atrocity to them, which was highly possible, and they wanted revenge? They could kill me! Okay, okay, I have a way of thinking of the worst possible situation, but it could happen.

[Deleted]

"Yeah, it's no problem, my parents are cool with me bringing people over," I say, not being entirely honest. I never bring people over, not because I'm not allowed, but because I have no desire to interact with other humans. I'm sure they'd be very gracious to company if I actually had friends. "And it's fine, about the dog. We're all animal lovers in my family, he and my pet fox should have fun together."

I look up to find Julian looking at me oddly, his stormy eyes intense but somehow distant and removed, like he's deeply lost in thought. He seems like he's not really focused on the moment at all. "Hey, are you all right?"

No response. Shit. If he's cold enough that his mental processes are slowing down, we've got much less time than I thought. Who knows how long he was out here in the snow before I ran into him, and the fact that he's standing still isn't doing him any favors. I've seen hypothermia before, and I know I've got to get him moving and get him inside as fast as possible if he's got a shot at making it out of this snowstorm unscathed. He's still looking distantly into thin air, so I walk over, closer to him, my own hazel eyes narrowing as I peer into his deep gray ones. His pupils are dilated wider than they should be, which could indicate that he's losing some muscle control as well. That settles it, the kid's definitely slipping into the early stages of hypothermia. We've got to get out of here, now.

"Hey. Julian. Julian!" I sound more panicked than I mean to, my voice going up in pitch and volume, but it has the desired effect. He finally snaps out of it and focuses back onto the world around him, and I sigh in relief. "I need you to stay with me, okay? You can't just zone out like that when you're as cold as you are."

Feeling like I may be acting a little to forward, I reach up to feel the skin on his forehead. Even against my own cold skin, he's frigid. "We've got to get you inside." I'm about to grab him by the arm and lead him back towards the path when I remember the gigantic black dog chasing snowflakes a few yards away from us. I don't remember its name, but I'm good enough with animals that I can probably get it to follow me. I pat the side of my thigh, whistling to the huge canine. "C'mon, boy!"

The dog comes bounding over towards Julian and I, and we set off up the path, me leading the both of them. The progress back to my house is considerably quicker since I had cleared a walkway through the snow on my way to town, and we're standing at the door of the good-sized log cabin that is my home. The door is locked, something which I find odd, and I pull my keys out of my bag and unlock it, the freezing wind swinging the door inward the second I turn the knob. I quickly usher Julian and the dog inside, slamming the thick slab of wood closed between us and the deathly cold world outside.

I look around the kitchen, searching for signs of life and finding none. The fire isn't lit, the dishes from breakfast aren't in the sink, and the only thing that moves is the russet blur of my fox cub Flint running across the smooth pine-plank floor to greet me. I'm petting him absently when I spot the piece of paper on the table. Tilting my head curiously, I lift it up and read its contents.

Aria,
Dad and I had to go over to Liam and Kyra's right after you left, Stella's sick with some sort of whooping cough and they needed us there to help. Don't know how bad the snow will get, stay inside until we get back. Plenty of food in the fridge and dry firewood in the cellar. Take care.
Love, Mom

Ah, so they've gone to my brother's. There's no way that they'll be coming back today, not with my three-month old niece sick and the snow flying like this. I huff frustratedly, turning back to Julian, who thankfully looks a little less blue, although he is shivering heavily. "They're snowed in at my brother's house. Looks like it's just you and me. Isn't this just cozy?"

I walk down the hall to Liam's old room, throwing open his closet and pulling out two sets of clothing that are almost identical. Two plaid flannel shirts, two pairs of worn work jeans, two belts, two pairs of socks. I toss one set of clothes in my own room as I pass by, and continue into the kitchen, thrusting the other set at Julian. "Bathroom's at the end of the hall. Go change, unless you like being cold and soaking wet. I'll get a fire started."

[/blockquote]

[Eastern Orange]

I jerk my head back when she touched my forehead, but I let her grab my arm and drag me towards her house. I'm a bit surprised when her house comes into view. I didn't know that someone could live in a house that small, but I chose not to share my thoughts with her.

I watch her pick up a note. While she reads it, a look around. Her house could probably fit into my bedroom, how can one manage! And other people live here? I think my house feels small with my seven siblings at home, lord only knows how she must feel.

I turn my attention to her as she speaks. "Just us?" I repeat. I don't know if that is good or bad. On one hand, I wont be surrounded by strangers, on the other I'll be alone with a one stranger who also happens to be a bitch. I watch as she disappears. I take the opportunity to grab the note from where she left it. Aria. So that's her name.

She returned and threw me some clothes, and pointed me toward a bathroom. I looked at the little fox cub, hanging about. Then I looked at the giant dog eying him. I grabbed Czar by the collar and dragged him to the bathroom with me. I took off my wet clothes and threw them in pile. Czar growled at them and started attack them. "Czar!" I snap. He harrumphs, and flops down. I put on the pants, and the belt. I pick up the shirt, and I'm about to tug it on, when Czar surges to his feet, yanks it out of my hands, and barges through the door, which I stupidly didn't close all the way.

I run after him. "Get back here you damn dog!" He stops in the front room, and starts shacking his head back and forth. I tackle him to the ground. He's growling, but I know he just playing. I roll over, taking him with me, but he refuses to let go of the shirt.