CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT ( what we owe to each other )
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OCT 5, 2149 DAY TWENTY THREE ON THE GROUND
DAKOTA AWOKE THE NEXT MORNING WEDGED COZILY BETWEEN FOX AND OCTAVIA, the mildly hungover brunette having searched for Dakota sometime in the night when she hadn't come to bed; apparently inviting herself into Octavia's tent upon discovering her there. The same thing happened most nights they were separated; Fox just seeming to naturally wind up wherever she was.
The girl smiled softly at their peaceful faces, so serene in their slumber. Carefully, she sat slowly up and slid out from between them; rising silently to her feet with a huge yawn. They both shivered unconsciously in their dream-state, Dakota grabbing a crumpled up blanket that had been unintentionally kicked to their feet and draping it back over them. It wouldn't do much, she knew. The cold weather was getting almost dangerously harsh, but maybe it would help a little. Tightening her coat around herself and securely fastening the zipper all the way up to her chin, she ventured outside to find her breath instantly snatched away.
The sun was ascending rapidly over the sleeping camp as if it could hardly wait to brighten the early morning sky with its radiant, golden rays. Vibrant colors bloomed across the open vault of darkened azure such as paint across a canvas. The colors that expanded through the stunning ether were vivacious, yet simultaneously gentle; tangerines, and lavenders, and yellows so pastel it almost looked vanilla swirling blissfully together and kissing the wispy clouds.
The camp was quiet this time of day, which was a sacred rarity, and viewing the sunrise from the sanctuary of her own silent presence provided her a sense of clarity. Just her and the sky sharing an intimate moment with one another; a few minutes of stillness to start the new day.
But just like that, the moment of tranquility had come and gone; interrupted by the unpleasant sound of someone retching just outside the large walls.
Her head snapped over towards the noise through the misty morning fog, her brows furrowing before quickly advancing out the gate. Fallon was on her knees, doubled over and clutching onto her stomach as she dry heaved into the dirt. Dakota was quick to rush to her side, speedily pulling her dirty blonde hair back before realizing she wasn't actually throwing anything up.
"Kota!" Fallon cheered drowsily once her stomach had stopped twisting unbearable knots into her body, limbs shaking in exhaustion; God knows how long she'd been out here.
Dakota was instantly befuddled; Fallon wasn't an angry drunk? The girl was clearly utterly inebriated while simultaneouslyhung over, but the incapacity of her prefrontal cortex in the wake of the unearthly amounts of moonshine likely tearing through her system hadn't added to her rage. Surprisingly, it had only minimized it. She'd expected the opposite from the generally hotheaded blonde.
