The fire was small.

  Gravel insisted on it being that way, just enough to cook, not enough to announce their position to anything dangerous. The flames crackled low, hunched close to the ground, casting long, warped shadows across the clearing. The boy sat a short distance from it, knees drawn up, his club resting across his lap. He wasn’t hungry. He hadn’t been since the fight.

  The smell lingered. Not blood—he knew that smell well enough—but something heavier. The smell of damp ash. Like air after lightning. He kept thinking he could still feel it in his chest.

  Wrighty sat beside him, chewing loudly on a piece of roasted meat. “Y’know,” he said through a mouthful, “for a first real scrap, that went pretty good.”

  The boy didn’t respond and instead stared blankly at the fire.

  Wrighty glanced sideways. “Hey, Doc.”

  Still nothing.

  Wrighty swallowed and lowered his voice. “You’re not in trouble or anything. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not,” the boy said.

  That was true. He wasn’t worried about Gravel. Or the group. He was worried about himself.

  Across the fire, Snow worked quietly, cleaning her arrowheads with a rag soaked in sap. Chop sat with his back to a tree, sharpening his cleaver in slow, methodical strokes. Knell stared into the dark beyond the firelight, head tilted, it seemed she was listening to things no one else could hear.

  Eerie sat alone. He hadn’t eaten. He hadn’t spoken. His dagger lay across his knees, his hands resting loosely around the hilt, eyes unfocused.

  Sheath noticed. “Are you ever gonna relax?” He muttered.

  Eerie didn’t answer.

  Gravel crouched near the fire, stirring a small pot with the tip of his knife. He glanced at the boy once, then again longer.

  “You always get quiet after fights?” Gravel asked.

  The boy hesitated. “I don’t usually fight, I don’t think I do at least.”

  Gravel snorted. “Coulda fooled me.”

  Silence settled again. Above them, Shiela shifted in her harness where Five had secured her between two thick branches. Five insisted she stayed in the trees above him so he could watch her as he slept, and so in the case a creature attacks them she is safely away from danger. She leaned forward slightly, peering down through the leaves.

  “Doc,” she said gently, “does it hurt?”

  The boy looked up. “What?”

  “Whatever happened,” she said. “Does it hurt?”

  He thought about the pressure. The soundless noise. The way something had pulled inward when the leader fell.

  “No,” he said. “Not exactly.”

  Shiela nodded, as if that answer made sense.

  Five sat opposite the boy, legs crossed, posture relaxed. He had eaten already. Now he watched the fire, hands folded loosely in his lap.

  “You didn’t panic,” Five said casually.

  The boy stiffened. “I didn’t have time.”

  “Still,” Five replied. “Most people freeze when something unfamiliar happens inside them.”

  The boy looked at him sharply. “You’re assuming something happened.”

  Five smiled faintly. “I’m observing.”

  That irritated him more than outright accusation would have.

  Gravel cleared his throat. “Alright. Cards on the table,” he said. “I’ve seen strange things out here. Things that don’t add up. Folks doin’ things they shouldn’t be able to.”

  His gaze flicked to Snow. Then to Shiela. Then, finally, to the boy.

  “What you did back there,” Gravel continued, “I ain’t sayin’ it’s good or bad, but it’s not normal. It's nothing like the other strange things I have seen.”

  The boy looked down at his hands.

  “I know,” he said.

  That was the worst part.

  Five leaned forward slightly. “The question isn’t what it was,” he said. “Not yet.”

  Everyone looked at him.

  “The question,” Five continued, “is whether you can control it.”

  The fire popped softly.

  The boy felt his stomach twist, “ control it?”

  Five turned his gaze to him fully now. He seemed calm and focused

  “Yes,” he said.

  The boy looked down at his palm. He wasn’t sure if he could control it. He didn’t even understand what it was.

  “Do you think…Its one of those abilities Shiela was talking about,” the boy spoke without looking up.

  “Honestly, I am not sure—how am I supposed to know?” Five shrugged before calmly pouring himself another bowl of soup. He grabbed his spoon and slowly lapped up the soup while never averting his gaze from the boy.

  After a couple spoonfuls, Five momentarily set down his bowl and wiped his mouth across his sleeve. He turned to Gravel and nodded.

  “Good soup.”

  He then turned to the boy and gave him a smile, “well you’re quite the mystery aren’t you? You don’t even have a real name quite yet.”

  The boy nodded silently, “Indeed I do not.”

  Five focused on the rest of the group and gave them another smile, “well I want to get to know everyone here not just the strange boy we are traveling with. Let’s finish our introductions shall we?”

  Five’s smile lingered as the fire cracked softly.

  “Well,” he said, glancing around the circle, “we’ve got a couple days walking and gathering supplies. Seems fair we know who we’re bleeding next to.”

  The air filled with a deafening silence. Everyone stayed quiet for a moment.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Wrighty broke the tension first, leaning back and giving a large, overdramatic yawn.

  “Guess that’s my cue.”

  Wrighty leaped off the ground in an explosive motion. As he stood the campfire light showed a dark-skinned boy rippling with muscle. He still did not have a shirt on yet didn’t seem cold in the night. He gave another overdramatic yawn and nodded toward the boy.

  “You already know me. Wrighty. That’s the name that I chose.”

  He smiled, “don’t spell it wrong though it's W-R-I-G-H-T-Y.”

  Snow smiled at him, “oh I get it, quite the pun.”

  Wrighty laughed, “I know right? It’s a perfect name isn’t it?” He quickly cleared his throat and turned his head.

  He wiggled his left nub around before sighing and giving an awkward laugh. He placed his right hand on the nub as he gave it a solemn expression.

  “Lost this before I got here. I don’t know how or when I lost my left arm or if I ever had one at all, but it doesn’t really affect me too much.” He grabbed his staff with his right hand and gave it a look of approval. “Yep, I am gonna keep on moving, I don’t need a left arm to keep balance. It ain’t too bad honestly.”

  He spun his staff once, letting it rest across his shoulders.

  “I don’t remember much about before, but I am glad I get to be here with y’all. I am gonna try to be as brave, strong and fast as I can so that my friends and I can survive this together. ”

  Chop snorted from across the fire. “You forgot you’re gonna be loud.”

  Wrighty grinned. “That’s a feature.”

  Gravel stood next. He didn’t smile. He scanned the group for moment

  “Gravel,” he said simply. “I try my best to get good folks out alive.”

  He scanned the tree line while he spoke, eyes never resting.

  “I’ve crossed more ground than I care to remember in such a short amount of time. I reckon this world has a lot in store for us so we gotta watch each other’s backs.” His gaze settled on the boy, not unkind, just firm.

  “If I give an order, it’s to keep you breathing. Argue later. Live now.”

  He slowly sat back down. Snow cleared her throat softly.

  “I’m Snow,” she said, adjusting the cloth around her bow hand.

  “I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me honestly.”

  She shivered and wrapped her fur cloak around her tighter. She was shaking like a leaf despite the fire in front of them.

  “I always f-feel so cold. No matter how hard I try I-I am always s-so c-c-cold..” She frowned as she shifted closer to the fire.

  The boy found the statement both perplexing and intriguing. He was intrigued to know why she felt so cold, it was an interesting thing to figure out. He shook it from his mind before he accidentally started prying.

  She hesitated, then added, quieter,

  “I prefer distance. From monsters. People. Everything.”

  “Then why did you come,” asked the boy in a stark, plain tone.

  “I-I don’t know, but I w-wanted to help.”

  Gravel gave her a disapproving look before sighing.

  Knell spoke next without lifting her gaze from the dark.

  “Knell,” she said. “People say I have good ears.” She tilted her head slightly, listening even now. “Sometimes I hear things that never come at all.”

  She grabbed her shoulder in pain, “my shoulder hurts a bit, but I can get by.”

  Sheath raised his hand with a smirk crossing his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  “I’m called Sheath of the Sword. A title I humbly wear.” Sheath raised his sword into the air with a triumphant huff. As he did the boy was able to see the more intricate detailing of the sword. He could see how sharp it was and how the handle resembled seaweeds. The blade itself had runes carved all over it. The boy found this strange yet couldn’t resist the urge to seek more knowledge

  “This sword, it seems strange. Its design is nothing like anything I think I have ever seen.Where did you get this from? Did you land with it?” The boy’s eyes glistened as his curiosity got the better of him.

  Sheath scoffed at him—seemingly because he still didn’t like the boy very much— but he decided to answer with a smug tone, “well when I fell I happened to land near a very tiny island. On this island I found a stone with this sword wedged in it.” Sheath moved the sword through his hand looking at it with pride.

  “This sword felt special, no it felt powerful. So I spent time training with it until I drifted here.”

  The boy could tell that the sword was powerful. It had a strange air to it like he could feel pressure coming off of it. The sword had an aura of the ocean surrounding it, as if it were blessed by a sea nymph.

  Interesting.

  Sheath moved on and smiled faintly with his sword raised in the air.

  “I cut what needs cutting and always look awesome doing it”

  As Sheath started showing off his sword a shape shifted near the edge of the firelight.

  Eerie stepped forward just enough to be seen.

  “Eerie,” he said quietly. That was it.

  His eyes flicked briefly to the boy, then back to the shadows.

  Chop finally spoke, cracking his neck.

  “Chop. If it’s big, I hit it. If it’s bigger, I hit it harder.” He tapped the edge of his cleaver against the ground once. “Simple works.”

  The fire flared up just a little

  Five spoke up next, starting with a bow. “Hello, my name is Five. I can’t tell you what I was like before. I have long forgotten. ”

  He grabbed his sleeve and pulled it down revealing the number five engraved on his arm.

  “I found this here my first time falling so I just assumed that was my name. I helped Shiela because I saw something special in her, something I wanted to protect no matter what.” Shiela blushed a little at the comment burying her hands in her face as he spoke. Sheath let out a scoff as he saw how Five looked at her.

  When he sat down quietly. The boy noticed he spoke in a way that was rehearsed. He chose what to share and what not too. He must’ve been planning what to say for a while.

  All eyes turned, slowly, to the boy. Five stared at him expectantly but didn’t rush him.

  The boy swallowed. “I… don’t have a name,” he said finally. “Not yet.”

  Wrighty smiled at him as the boy looked down, stuttering over his words.

  “I like to observe,” he continued. “I like to keep track of things, to understand my environment. I don’t know anything about myself but I really enjoy just watching.” His fingers tightened briefly around the club.

  “And apparently,” he added, quieter, “I do things I don’t understand.”

  Silence followed.

  Then Wrighty nodded once. “Fair enough.”

  Five smiled gently. “Names can wait,” he said. “Survival usually comes first.”

  The fire crackled while Shiela shifted slightly in her perch, watching over them all. The fire continued to crackle softly, a low, uneasy sound. No one spoke for a while. The introductions were over, but the tension hadn’t left with them. If anything, it had shifted—condensed—drawn inward toward the center of the circle.

  Toward him.

  The boy felt it without looking up.

  Snow avoided his eyes, busying herself with her bow again. Knell listened closer, her tilted just a fraction more in his direction. Chop’s gaze lingered on him staring at him like he saw a monster. His cleaver was resting across his knees, unmoving. Even Sheath, who had already decided he didn’t like the boy, now watched him with a sharper edge to his expression.

  Gravel stood and stirred the fire with the tip of his boot, breaking the silence.

  “Alright,” he said. “We rest. Two-hour watches.”

  He looked directly at the boy when he added, “Nothing weird either.”

  The boy nodded once. “I wasn’t planning to do anything.”

  Gravel held his gaze for a second longer, then turned away.

  Wrighty leaned closer, lowering his voice. “They’re just freaked out,” he whispered. “Today has been a weird day. Weird dogs. Weird you.” He grinned faintly. “Give it time.”

  The boy didn’t respond.

  Across the fire, Five met his eyes. There was no fear in Five’s expression. No suspicion, either—at least not the obvious kind. Just interest. Focused, patient interest, like he was watching a puzzle that hadn’t revealed its shape yet. Five inclined his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment. Not reassuring .

  The boy looked away.

  Above them, Shiela shifted in the branches, the leaves whispering softly around her. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes stayed on him longer than the others’. She had a concerned look on her face, maybe she understood him—even just a little.

  The fire burned lower.

  As people settled into their bedrolls, the boy lay awake, staring into the dark beyond the firelight. The jungle breathed around them, slow and heavy. Somewhere far off, something moved, but nothing came closer.

  His chest felt tight again. He closed his eyes and forced his hands to stay still.

  Around them, the group slept in uneasy fragments half-dreaming, half-awake. Gravel took the first watch. Then Chop. Then Sheath.

  Each time someone’s gaze passed over him, it continued just a moment longer than it had before. By the time the fire burned down to embers, the boy understood something clearly. They hadn’t decided what he was to them yet.

  The boy couldn’t get a lick of rest that night. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his ribs causing him to choke blood every few minutes or it was the feeling that he had gotten when slaying the pack leader. Maybe, it was his body keeping him awake because he was subconsciously afraid of one of the group members killing him in his sleep. He wouldn’t be surprised, they didn’t seem to trust him much. Whatever the reason was, the boy stayed awake through the night watching as the others rotated who was watching.

  He swore he could hear a sound below him, below the dirt. It sounded like something digging—no—something massive digging. He listened to the sound the whole night as he couldn’t help but wonder what else this world had in store.