Lost Amongst Many

Chapter 18

-Back to normal POV-

I was awoken by the sound of Mitch, flopping tiredly onto the shelf he'd carved out of the wood with a sharp stone. His pillow lay beneath his head, and he passed out, barely aware that I was awake.

"Mitch?"

He hummed a question.

"You okay?"

"Mm-hm."

"Okay. Good night."

"Mm-hm."

I was impressed. He answered three questions and responded to me without moving. Every human before him had used their hands to answer or communicate in some way.

The next morning began bright and early, or rather, dark and early. Because of daylight savings, the sun rose later in the day, leaving the mornings pitch black. Jerome and I had fed ourselves and took a mile-long walk by the time Mitch woke up.

There were dark half-moons under his eyes, and he barely had his eyes open. His movements were sluggish.

"Mitch?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay?"

He half nodded in a yes, and half nodded OFF. He was very tired. (Mitch, you aren't alone there bud)

Jerome pounced at his feet, and it woke him up really fast. It is not every day you have a full grown bacca pounce at your feet. Do not tell me you do not at least flinch.

Mitch, now fully awake, moved faster, and was able to maintain a proper pace the whole morning. Although, he moved exceptionally quickly for a normal rate, so Jerome slowed him down. Jerome made himself a road block, and stood directly in the way of Mitch. He blinked, now frozen in place.

"Dafudge? What-"

He spun in a circle, and his gaze landed on me. He smiled, and suddenly wrapped his arms around Jerome, and swung up onto his back. Jerome turned his head, snuffed his hair, pulling it into his face, then wolf-laughed at the funny looking result. Mitch pushed his hair back, and relaxed.

He lay on his back, not even caring about the risk of injury if he were to fall. He held onto nothing, so if Jerome began to sprint, Mitch was sure to fall and get hurt. And none of us wanted, nor needed, that to happen. Jerome walked outside, comfortable with Mitch on his back. Mitch had drifted off to sleep, and his breathing seemed ragged and uneven.

Jerome led the way on a long walk, and Mitch slept through the whole thing, easily carried by Jerome. We stopped to rest on the edge of the closest city, and a child, the age of 7 or 8, watched me intently. He tugged the skirt of his mother, and when he got her attention, she looked at me and Jerome.

"Beasts! Beasts killed a boy!"

I blinked. I assumed we were the 'beasts', but killed a boy? What? I have never killed anything in my life, except maybe fruits.

The. I looked to Jerome. Mitch was lazily still sleeping on his back, hands entwined in fur to keep from falling. He was still breathing alright, but then what was the woman talking about?

Men came from a few houses, with weapons and such, and advanced toward us. I got twitchy, but Jerome remained rock-still, looking slightly angry.

"Sir, we should leave."

"No. I will not run from these idiots anymore."

Then a large bacca emerged from the crowd, and Jerome flinched. The bacca had a chain around its neck, and the end links of a long chain hanging loose. It advanced slowly, but deliberately. It resembled Jerome remarkably well, which was odd because all baccas look very different.

The bacca noticed Jerome, and froze mid-stride. It growled.

"What are you doing, brother?"