Unraveling The Faded

Chapter 8

     It was the next day. The other day, we were both way too damn exhausted to do anything. We just slept and talked but even then that was bothersome. Today I had decided to drag myself out of our shelter and make the trek to the small river that was within the perimeter of our "safe zone". I needed to restock on the water that had once been in my large jug. I didn't have anymore bottled water at the moment so that was that and off I went. Jean wanted to come along, he wanted to feel the sunlight and stretch his legs because it would do us some good, as he had put it.

Walking on the path that would lead us to the river, Jean was taking in all the sights like a wonder-bound child discovering the world around them for the first time. We had walked barely saying a word to one another except for Jean making a few comments in regards to this area. He had asked why this spot seemed to have just a bit more life to it, compared to everywhere else. I didn't know how to answer him. I had racked this question around my own brain more than once before. It was true that everything around here seemed like it was on its' way to dying. But, there was also still a liveliness that still hadn't quite faded away yet. 

The trees stood tall and proud with their green, sun kissed leaves that swooshed in the warm breeze. The grass had grown thick and untamed. Some patches were withered, dry and clumped with dirt. But for the most part it looked actually quite nice. The sun would shine down on this little land and touched it with its grace gently. Normally I don't like to be in the direct path of the sun, in fear of it blowing my cover. So I try as best I can to conceal myself to the shadows. Sometimes it can't be helped, even with the hiding in the more shade filled spots I had started to understand it didn't matter at all. Because neither sun or darkness would save you from those things.

I had wondered why this place seemed untouched by those monsters. Maybe it was a saving grace, maybe it was too sacred for them to step foot in. Or maybe they just couldn't stand the idea that life was still able to make a dent in their forsaken reality. Either way I could never find the answer to this question. I really would love to know the answer though. Because there has to be some reason those things will not step foot here. There has to be. What are they afraid of? Should we be afraid? Is there something here that we don't know about that is worse than them? All I said in reply was, "Maybe life just got sick of seeing them thrive." 

~~~

     Nearing the dirt and stone covered earth that was ahead, I could feel my legs burning. Just making this trip seemed too rigorous  for them, I also had lifted my arm to rotate my shoulder feeling the soreness of my bruises. I had them on my side, my shoulders, my arms. There was also some tenderness in my upper back. I was pretty banged up. 

Jean probably had some of his own battle wounds, but if he did he didn't show it. There were only a few times he had winced to what I suspected must have been some kind of injury he had been enduring. I don't know when he had acquired it but he must have been hurt somewhere because I definitely heard him make pained grumbles. Now, I can't help but to fully take in the sight of him. His eyes were slanted, dark and heavy, almost engulfed in themselves. When the light met them by chance they were sweet, gentle and brightened by pools of honey.

His raven colored hair had seemed to give faint traces of blue that changed with the rays of the sun. He had bangs that fell from either side of his face with a space in between just below his eyes kissing his cheeks. The rest of his hair was layered and the length came to the nape of his neck. A small amount of both the sides of his head by his ears looked like they had been neatly shaved. His skin was paler than my own, his beard that hugged his face was kept neat and not so thick. To go along with it a slightly thin mustache sat atop his peach pink lips, the corners of his mouth adorned the tiniest, greater fraction of hair. His brows were barely arched, they were thick and matched the color of his eyes giving him this stern expression. We seemed similar in age, he might be just a few years older if I were to make a guess.