Casted

Chapter 12

Ben and I found the willow clearing easily, following the scent of smoking embers from last night's fire. The scene in the clearing was just as we'd left it, but ten times more haunting- it seemed too tranquil, too peaceful, to have been same place we woke up this morning. The calm aura there didn't match the horror we'd witnessed in the past hour; it mocked it.

We gathered our supplies in silence. I grabbed our sleeping bag and Ben's backpack, along with my own, while Ben collected Zion's items. We'd agreed on the way there that we shouldn't let his stuff go to waste, but I'd admitted that I wouldn't be able to touch it- I'd probably have an emotional break down or something. So we exited the clearing bearing everything we'd entered with, and left no trace but a pile of ash and our own footprints. You would have never guessed about our visit from the Stormers that morning.

We stopped at Zion's traps on the way back, glad to find that one had been set off, not so glad to find a baby raccoon strung up in it. Ben protested when I started to collect the body ("You have no idea what diseases that thing could have") but I assured him that I'd eaten raccoon before and it was perfectly safe, especially since it was still young. He grumbled something in return. Just to amuse myself, I added, "Much safer than opossum, let me tell you. My poor uncle Floyd..."

When I glanced back at him he was giving me a look, like 'Come on. That's not funny', and I had a laugh at his expense.

The walk back was much less tense than the walk there. Maybe because the images of the last fear weren't so fresh, maybe because we weren't still trying to wrap our heads around what happened. Either way, it was much more comfortable. We talked, joked a little, and at one point even got into a snowball fight. It might have gotten out of hand if Chris and Alice hadn't wandered over to see what all the commotion was about.

"What is going on out here?" Chris said as he approached. Alice followed behind him, looking nervous.

Ben peeked out from behind a tree, while I sat up from my place in the snow. We exchanged a glance and laughed, eyes sparkling like children, then chucked a pair of snowballs in Chris's direction. He dodged one and it hit Alice in the chest, the other nailed him right in the face.

He grinned through a mouthful of snow. "Oh, it's on now."

I scrambled up as he and Alice flung icy handfuls at me, giggling and ducking behind trees. A few hit me in the back, one got my head and trickled freezing water down my spine, but I didn't care. In those ten minutes of floundering around in the snow, I was a kid again. It didn't matter that Alice was fourteen. It didn't matter that Ben was twenty one. I didn't have to act like an adult, didn't have to take care of anyone. I forgot that I was hungry, forgot that I'd watched my friend get murdered not too long ago, and the only reason I was looking over my shoulder was to make sure Chris wasn't sneaking up on me with a handful of snow. The Task didn't matter. All that mattered was us, right then, and that amazing feeling of childish joy bubbling in my chest.

I was crouched behind the trunk of a maple, out of breath and sweating and laughing all at the same time, when the snow started falling. I'd just thrown a snowball at Alice and was watching as she scooped up some powder with her good hand to retaliate. Her hat (which was too big for her tiny head) slipped down over her eyes as she threw, and her snowball hit the ground two yards to my right. I cracked up. She broke into a shy smile as she peeked out from under the hat, while the boys pelted each other a little ways off. Then Ben paused. His eyes rose to the sky, which was now dark with storm clouds. Fat snowflakes sprinkled us. The wind whistled threateningly through the trees. The smiles melted from all of our faces as our breath billowed in the cold air.

"Looks like a storm," Ben said. He assumed his normal adult voice again.

Chris frowned at the sky. "Aww, why do you gotta ruin the fun, Benny?" he asked, dropping a snowball. He brushed off his gloves reluctantly.