TIMEWALKER [wlw]

o n e

- L -

I blink my bleary eyes open, lifting my head from the rolled-up jumper balanced on the edge of my seat. I am greeted by the crying of a baby a few rows away, and the bustling of cabin crew rolling carts down the centre aisle.

The side of my head aches where the familiar curling loops of my ring have been pressed against my skin, and I rub my finger over the imprint carved into my cheek. The memory of sleep lingers in the stiffness of my neck, and the funky taste coating my mouth.

The soft hum of chatter fills the air around me, and I glance outside the window. The sun is rising, casting golden light over the tops of pure, white clouds. A smile curls over my lips. Despite the sleep crusting at the corners of my eyes, and the uncomfortable crick in my neck, there is something peaceful about being miles above the Earth.

I look over to the woman beside me, admiring the gentle light playing across her dark skin. She is curled against the seat with her head propped up on her elbow, her eyes shut to the world.

Meeting her was a blessing; one that I have treasured for the last five years. She is the only reason I am able to travel and explore history the way I do.

With a soft grunt, she shifts in her seat, and I drag my eyes away from her sleeping form.

"Would you like a cup of coffee, ma'am?" One of the flight attendants asks, smiling politely at me. I send her a pleased nod, desperate for a morning rush of caffeine.

As she prepares my drink, I nudge my elbow into the woman sleeping beside me.

"Olivia," I murmur, ignoring the disgruntled muttering I get in response to my attacks. "Do you want a coffee?"

She mumbles an assent, but buries her face further into her temporary pillow. I huff out a laugh, before requesting another coffee from the flight attendant.

"Thank you," I take my coffee gratefully, setting Olivia's down on the fold-out table.

"We should be landing in half an hour," the flight crew informs me, sending me one last smile before continuing down the aisle.

I sip at the hot liquid with tentative lips, wary of the steam rising from the surface. Olivia lifts her head at the smell of coffee, swearing softly as the sun hits her eyes.

"Mornin', Liv," I chuckle, as she sits up and shakes the sleep from her limbs. She scowls at me, her lips curling.

"You're far too cheery in the mornings, man," she grumbles, lifting her coffee to her lips.

"I thought you said it was motivating?" I raise an eyebrow, reminding her of the early mornings brought on by our last dig, due to the isolation provided by the Russian winter. We were forced to walk from the nearest town to the archeological site everyday, because helicopters could not fly through the blizzards that frequented the local area.

She just rolls her eyes in response.

*

As soon as we step off the plane, the heat hits me like a brick wall. Sweat beads along my hairline, despite the wind billowing across the runway. I clutch at my wide-brimmed hat, desperate for some protection from the sun. My shorts barely stretch down to mid-thigh, but are still not short enough to please the relentless heat emitting from my skin.

It's a far cry from the wild colds of our last destination, where everyday was spent wrapped up in five layers of fur, huddling for any kind of warmth.

After making it through customs, we follow the signs through the small airport to a drop-off area.

"Our guide should be here..." Olivia murmurs, scanning the people waiting by the door. A man waves at us from the corner, a grin spreading across his lips. "Ah!" She drags her luggage towards him, her cheeks flushing with happiness.