hiraeth

thirty-two

xxxii. Nia

They're lucky the moon is out.

Peter has taken to the oars, rowing towards a shadow of another island in the distance. Nia's secretly grateful, catching her chin drooping only to jolt up once it hits her chest. Besides that, it's freezing, the icy breeze digging under her sweater and skin, and the sky is already void of light save for the stars and the round planet.

She barely catches Peter's voice in her torment.

"Huh?"

"I said, are you okay?" he repeats, momentarily lifting his gaze.

It's the first words they've spoken since an hour ago.

"I'm fine. Just tired," she says.

"Go to sleep."

She shakes her head. "I'm gonna fall asleep sitting here and tip straight over. Then we'll become Jack and Rose from the Titanic. Don't ask."

He keeps rowing, and she keeps actively fighting to stay awake, and she thinks it's kind of funny until Peter stops rowing and takes off his jacket. He throws it at her. "Curl up on the floor next to your seat. And put that on."

"Are you always that condescending? Gods. I'm not a child."

"Fine, smartass. Freeze."

"Choke." She tests out his suggestion anyways, scooting off the seat and lying down in a ball on her side, placing the jacket across her shoulders. It's still cold, but at least the wind isn't attacking her left, right, and center. "Wake me up when you need me to row."

"Don't worry about it."

"Well, I am because you'll turn over the entire boat if you fall asleep like that."

"I won't."

"Uh-huh."

She blinks up at the moon, the stars a hazy blur. "Peter?"

"What is it?"

For a moment - just for a moment - she can pretend she isn't mad at him. That it doesn't hurt, the fact that this jacket and gesture can't be reserved only for her. "Thank you."

~~~

Inevitably, Nia takes the role of captain once Peter wakes her up another hour later, begrudgingly admitting she was right about him not being able to stay conscious the entire trip. When they hit the shore of the new island, triple the size of the one they had been on, she shakes his shoulder and snickers when he hits his head on the seat.

"We need to camp out somewhere," Peter says once they've docked. "It's not safe to run around right now."

"A cave? A cavern?"

"Something like that. Come on."

There's smoke rising from the tip top of a mountain in the center, and it makes Nia nervous. "What do you think that is?"

Peter looks up. "A campfire?"

No way is it a normal fire, with the smoke cloud that gigantic, but Nia allows herself to believe it's some massive bonfire for the time being. Peter seems none the wiser.

The terrain is dry and rough, and they pick their way over the bumpy surface with hushed voices, with Peter telling Nia where to watch her step and her hissing back that she knows what she's doing. Once, she's forced to hold his forearm to keep from slipping, and her skin feels like it's electrified when she lets go. It's annoying how indifferent Peter is, turning away and marching on without feeling anything. But she reminds herself it doesn't even matter. He doesn't care, she reminds herself. He doesn't give a shit. She repeats it in her head like a mantra, more to evade her feelings if anything.

They find a small cavity in the side of a rock wall and duck inside. After eating some dried beef, Peter says he'll take first watch and crawls outside to sit, refusing when she tries to give him his jacket back.

"Go the fuck to sleep," he complains, shoving the jacket back at her. "I don't need it."

"I literally just had a nap. I'll stay up too."

He doesn't argue. Satisfied, she settles on the opposite side of the cave a couple meters away from him.

"Where do you think everyone else is?" he asks.

"Dunno. In a much better place, probably."

"You make it sound like they're dead."

"Eh. They might be."

She can practically sense his eye roll. "You don't have to be scared to fall asleep, you know."

"I'm not scared," she snorts.

"Sure. That's why you're running on max three hours of sleep and willingly submitting yourself to the cold."

"I've done worse." She watches her breath come out in a puff. The wind is still screaming, and she has to raise her voice more than normal. "You're not sleeping either," she points out.

"I'm..." He trails off and sighs. "You're still having that dream?"

There's something curious about his tone, the way he rushes his words. She eyes him suspiciously. "No," she lies. Yet, even now, she can see it: him, rushing towards her. Him, reaching out. And the words she heard on the rowboat, which make her want to run.

"Nia? Hey, remember me? Nia, I know you know who I am."

"Peter?"

"Why?" she asks, watching him carefully.

Peter takes a moment. "Nothing."

What exactly had she been to him? What had he been to her? She doesn't want to contemplate it. She doesn't want to--

"Stop avoiding the question and answer it honestly."

Her voice quivers. "Hey, by any chance--"

Snap. Peter's up on his feet at the same time as her, both of their swords unsheathed like mirror images of one another.

Horror strikes her gut at the sight of a huge silhouette creeping along the top of the slope, right above their shelter. The moon shines behind it like a spotlight.

"Dragon," they whisper at the same time, but their voices are cut off by the howling wind and the flapping of wings as they're dragged off the ground and into the night air.

Nia doesn't have to point it out to Peter. They're both seeing the same thing. Atop of the island is a volcano, the lava glowing fluorescent orange.

She can't communicate telepathically, but she knows her and Peter are thinking the same thing: We're screwed.