Rufus stumbled outwards from the bushes, releasing a heavy yawn and stretching his arms out. His hair was rumpled, and dark circles were present under his eyes, evident that he had gotten a few hours of much needed sleep. Wiping the corner of his jaw with his hand, he was fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when he looked up towards me, slightly jumping. When he slowly stopped in his tracks, his boots made a loud crunching noise in the ground. He stiffened at the sight of me in the shadows, amongst the tall grass, in the early dawn light, before heavily coughing.

"Good morning," I softly said.

Half awake, he mumbled something under his breath. He vigorously scratched the back of his head and squinted at me in the light, almost looking confused at the sight of me still being at the camp. Due to how we almost never saw each other, I expected him to be surprised to see me. On the contrary, he appeared to be quite annoyed. Most likely, he had not have his first cup of coffee yet.

"Do you have a knife?" I asked.

He blinked a couple of times. "What?"

"A knife."

"What do you need mine for?"

Silence passed. A cool wind settled on my shoulders, on the unkempt, matted hair over my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept. My lips were covered in scabs, some that had begun to heal after a few ones had fallen off. I dug my fingernails so deep into my palms they began to bleed a little bit. A small crack had begun to form on the brewing dam inside of me, but I ignored it. It would be absolutely inappropriate to display any fits of outburst or emotion in front of him. I wanted to ask him for the Good Book, for him to pray for my soul. And I deeply hated myself for nearly myself do so. But I caught myself, straightened my shoulders, and gave a small, tight smile.

He grunted. “Well?”

“Ain’t no food out here.”

Rufus rubbed his jaw. “We’ve got enough.”

"No, sir. It is hunting season," I answered. "Wild boar and deer are plenty abound in these parts. We could use some food. I hear that you are running low."

Rufus took a deep, shaky breath. Now he was fully awake, as if seized by my words. His eyes darted from me to the trees that swayed in the growing wind around us, their leaves shaking and tossed to the ground in dry piles where they would mold off at the edges. Then he tilted his head to the side. I could tell that he was squirming a bit.

"H...hunting season?"

"Yes, sir."

”For who?”

”All of us,” I quietly said. “We need food.”

”You leave the supplies up to me, boy.” With a heavy yawn, he began to stretch out a stubborn knot at the back of his neck. “You just go on to the coral reefs. Watch over the villagers. That’s where I need you the most.”

”I won’t relapse again, Rufus,” I whispered. “I swear. I know I don’t deserve another chance from you, but I’ve been clean for almost four weeks. I think I’m able to lift a little bit more off your shoulders.” I paused. “Of course, with all respect, I do understand if you want to think about it.”

”What kind of experience you have with hunting?”

“Lots. I’ve….I’ve lived in the woods by myself for years. I know how to set up traps. I’m aware what kind of animals are present in these areas. Especially wild boar and deer. Squirrels and possums too.”

“You could use my gun—”

”No.” I said the word a bit too loudly. “I…I mean…a knife better suits me….sir.”

"That’s…um…that’s quite thoughtful of you, but I do believe that the Khonie can find game on their own," Rufus hesitatingly replied. "There is no use overextending yourself to gather such resources. The people at our camp—-they fish and set up traps. You can...perhaps...keep continuing to have an eye on the borders of their camp. But I appreciate your efforts. If I need any help of some sort from you, I will let you know, yes? Right now, I need you to remain where you need to be. We have several guys down in Flanders and Navu who are aiming to clear out those cities and look for anything in the rubble. We're anticipating a direct attack from Baldwin and his men—”

”Would it be possible to have a few men come down with me?” I spoke the words a little too fast, and then looked down. “I would love to become acquainted with them. Get to know a few names, to see a couple of faces. I don’t get to see many folks around here. Outside of our meetings.” My voice broke off into a whisper. “I don’t see a lot of people these days. I won’t cause no trouble with anyone. Honestly, I swear. I got my drinking under control. You don’t have to worry about me being near a bottle again.”

A nervous look fell on his face as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Well…I….I don’t know exactly if—”

My face began to burn a bit. After a long pause, I finally made eye contact with him and briefly smiled. Rufus was still searching for words, like something had grabbed a hold of his neck. He sighed and bit his lip.

”That’s alright. I understand.”

“I can try to—”

”No, no, no, don’t burden yourself.” I shoved my clammy palms deeper into my pockets. “It’s okay, really. I don’t want to take away what support you do have. Really.”

Rufus quickly nodded, although he didn’t appear to look convinced by my words.

"May I please borrow your knife?" I asked.

He recoiled, as if a snake had wrapped up around his arm. My blistered lips faintly curled into a tight, small smile. I could see how his left hand lingered around the pistol that hung near his belt. Slowly, I took a few steps forward, my bare feet silent against the wet soil. As my shadow spilled over him, I could see the goosebumps forming on his skin. He barely reached my left shoulder---the years had shrunken him down, given how tall I had remembered him to be when I was a child.

Beads of sweat trickled down his temples. Without another word, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a small, folded leather sheath. Gently, I took it from his shaking hand, my large fingers wrapping around the cold blade. It made a loud flickering sound as I slipped it out from its bent position, pointed towards the sky, only mere inches away from his pale face. The tip of the blade shone in the light, near Honda's ring on my finger.

His blue eyes desperately searched mine for some sort of answer. But I had nothing left to give, and he had nothing here for me anymore. When I gradually smiled again, letting my cracked lips bleed, he looked like he wanted to flee from my presence.

"Thank you."

He did not reply.

"I will take good care of it and bring it back as good as new," I continued. "It's a nice thing."

When I turned and limped away through the grass after giving his right shoulder a pat, he did not move. I did not wait for him to and slipped past the trees, my fingers curling tighter around the sheath. The heat of the rising sun fell upon my head.

* * * * * *

The blade against the stone in my hand was a blur. I continued to rapidly strike it on its surface, almost expecting it to slide onto my palm and take a good chunk of it. Tiny sparks flew from its curved edge and disappeared in the air. The woods were a lot more silent than the ocean in the early morning, with the lingering sound of the crickets' last cry.

In my peripheral vision, I could make out a shadow move. They had crouched directly beneath the tree branches, watching me. I did not raise my head, only spat onto the stone and began to strike the blade faster, the burning sensation in my wrist numb to me. The white foam of my saliva sank into the surface of the stone, disappearing for good.

I slowly raised my head, dirty strands of hair falling over my face. The rock slipped out of my hand and landed onto the dried grass. Covey shrank back, startled to find that I was looking directly at him. A long moment of still silence passed, and I kept the edge of the knife against my fingers. When he stepped out of the shadows, I noticed how his hand lingered near his bow and arrow.

“I won’t hurt you.” The words quietly came out of me. “Haven’t done so in the beginning, won’t do so now, you know, in case you haven’t gotten the memo. So you can put those away. No need for that.”

Covey swallowed heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His left hand balled up into a tightly clenched first, the knuckles become a ghostly white.

I stared at my reflection on the blade. “I know you believe me to be a monster.”

Rage burned in his dark eyes. “You’ve ruined everything. You’re a rotten, dirty, pathetic excuse of a human being who won’t leave me or my people in peace.” His voice rose into a shout. “I’m going to kill you one of these days. One of these days, I will.”

”Then do it already. Why not today?” A deep ache settled in my chest—his words stung. “Why didn’t you do so before? What is taking you so long? This is a perfect opportunity. No one is here. Just you and I. They’ll find me out here soon.”

”Don’t mock me,” Covey snarled.

“You’re afraid,” I hoarsely whispered. “You are afraid of what I am able to do to you.” I stood up, causing him to flinch. “Of what I’ve done to the others. Of what I’ve done to Fritz. You want to buried in one piece.”

A dark red shade fell on his face. “I’ll tell everyone that you are here. And we will rip you apart, limb by limb, and throw your corpse towards where the dogs will get it.” He gritted his teeth. “Each man will have a keepsake of your wretched, cowardly flesh.”

I gazed at him. He was shaking incredibly bad, and he pointed his bow at me with defiance. It was as if he could barely stand at the moment, that his legs were about to give out on him. And yet I noticed how incredibly thin he was—far more than I. His bones protruded out of his skin, and his eyes were sunken. This made me wonder about the current health of the others—were they starving? Were they running out of food?

Silently, I took a couple of steps towards him. Panicked, he began to scramble back once more, but I slowly held an arm out.

“You get away from me, you psychopathic bastard,” Covey hissed. “You get away.”

“Come with me,” I softly said.

His facial expression changed. “What?”

”Come,” I beckoned.

The man hesitated, obviously confused by my reaction. He raised his bow, almost as if to shield himself from it. “I’m not going anywhere with you, and you can’t make me. No matter what you try with those psychic abilities of yours—-I’d kill you on the spot.”

I lowered my arm. “Then…then would you mind waiting here until I return? The camp isn’t too far from this place. Only a couple miles.” I looked away. “You look like you could use some food. I have some in my hut. If you could wait it’ll only be a moment.”

Covey appeared so stunned that he dropped his bow. It landed on the ground with a heavy thud. He took a step back. I had remembered how he had offered me shoes to wear on my feet, even though he saw me much differently as he did now. When I folded Rufus’ knife and placed it into my pocket, he seemed to relax a bit more.

”I’ll be back, alright?” I whispered, turning to move away. “Wait here. Don’t go anywhere.”

* * * * * * * *

He stared at the loaf of bread that I held out to him, before immediately snatching it and cramming it into his mouth with both hands. I sat down on a nearby log, and opened the contents in the small sack I brought with me. A few small apples, dried jerky, and some crackers. He was eating so fast I was surprised he didn’t choke at all, and when he chomped into one of the apples, juice ran down his chin and elbow. I sat there and watched as he inhaled it all, not leaving one crumb behind. As he wiped his mouth, he quietly reached for his bow and placed it on his lap. I noticed its intricate design.

“You made that?” I quietly asked.

Covey nodded.

“You must be really good with your hands. I couldn’t build anything to save my life.”

Another short, distinct nod. He avoided eye contact with me, hugging himself. Bewilderment rested in his eyes. He hadn’t spoken ever since. I rose to my feet and gazed up at the sky.

”I need to go.” I briefly exhaled, slinging empty sack over my shoulder. “If…if you or anyone else you know needs something…just…just meet me here. I’ll try to get Rufus to send more supplies down to the coral reefs. You should send me a list.”

Silence. He said nothing, I said nothing. And when I limped away, his eyes never left me.

* * * * * *

I left Rufus a note telling him I was going up north. He wasn’t in his hut, so I left it on the dirt threshold, before making my way through the woods, my dried leaves crunching against my bare feet. His knife pressed against my thigh in my left pocket, directly beside Janice’s worn, faded note.

My son’s stuffed elephant was in my satchel. His button eyes pressed against the fabric and through my back. Honda’s ring was on my finger, and I studied it for a moment before silently making my way through the woods. The decomposing corpse of a Red Mamba soldier caught my attention, under a bush. A group of flies had gathered around its shrunken, leather head. His teeth were yellow and broken like chair legs, and his wide eyes stared at the now bright blue sky. He couldn’t have been dead for more than a couple of days at this point, given the mostly fresh bullet hole wound at the back of his head. His straw colored hair was covered in ants and other insects that munched on what remained of his scalp.

The scent of decomposing flesh barely fazed me, at the sight which most men would lose their lunch. Maggots crawled on his outstretched hands and fingernails, as if he were praying to the heavens. My fingers were steady, slow, as I knelt down next to his shriveled form and began to unbutton his uniform jacket. In his pocket, I found a compass, a faded map, half a pack of cigarettes, and a torn picture of a young, pale woman with a pink flower in her curly hair. I wondered what she was doing at this moment—if she were waiting for a letter of some sort.

After staring at the man for a long time, I took all these items, except for the photo, and began to rip it up. The pieces became discarded in the wind and fled into the dirt. I found that the compass was broken and the glass was cracked in the middle.

Dipping two fingers into the soft mud, I coated my face in the cold stuff. When I opened my bag to slip my newly acquired goods in, I could not tear my eyes away from the stuffed elephant. Water threatened to rise in my eyes, but I looked away and shut it quickly, trying to control my breathing.

Soon. Soon, we’ll be home.

I slipped on the uniform and put my own clothes in my satchel—the scent of death hardly bothered me. With my shaky hand, I secured his helmet on my head and picked up his M4 carbine, letting the strap dangle from my shoulder. The fabric was stained and itchy, but the boots fit me perfectly. Years of being barefooted had me unaccustomed to my soles not touching the ground. I did not look at the soldier’s lifeless eyes and continued through the trees.