The Wolves ✓

30; aftermath

Freya found it difficult to get through the days that followed after. While grieving the loss of her mother, she helplessly watched her little brother turn into someone much more mature. How could someone's spirit be vanquished within days, she wondered.

The effects of war.

But it hadn't been a war. It had almost been the beginning of the end but still, not a war.

Her own spirit was dismal, a barely existing candle on a window sill as the storm cleared. Freya made breakfast though she didn't have the appetite for it. But she made it anyway so that some sort of normalcy was restored, like having breakfast would help her forget that the only family she had left was her empty shell of a brother.

She put the plate down on the dining table. They were in yet another stranger's house until they could be relocated. For so long, they had been abandoned as people were killed and left to rot in the streets. Freya had found that, over time, she'd forgotten the government even existed. Those who could escape, did. While those who couldn't... Well, they clearly didn't.

But with Ace dead and the possibility that the apocalypse was over before it truly begun, what was left of the military, was back and keen on setting things back to the way they were. Like nothing had ever happened.

Freya stood up and arched her back, stretching as the morning light poured into the room.

Greg screamed from inside one of the rooms. Freya turned and made her way to him. To them, things could never go back to how they were. She opened the door, gently. Looking inside, she saw Greg moving his arms and his legs jerking around as he fought the darkness that visited him in his nightmares. She sighed and crept up beside him, putting her palm over his cold and clammy forehead.

"Shhh," she began to coo.

Greg stirred before finally opening his eyes. He sucked in a breath, hoisting himself up with his elbow before sitting up finally.

"What?" he groggily mumbled.

"Are you okay?"

Greg was too disoriented to reply immediately, staring into empty space for a while before finally blinking.

"I made breakfast," Freya moved along.

"Okay," Greg said, already getting out of bed.

"I'll see you in the dining room then?"

Greg brushed his hair back with his fingers. "I'm not hungry."

Freya looked down at the mattress for a moment, "Are you sure? You barely had any dinner..."

Greg shook his head, "No, it's fine. I'll be there in a while."

He left the room after that to use the bathroom while Freya quietly returned to the dining room. She pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. In the distance, she could hear them. Turning, she held the curtain away from the window so she could see the helicopter circling above.

"Sorry," Greg said, walking into the room. "You should have started without me."

Freya looked down at the cold food, "No, it's okay. I wanted us to eat together."

Greg hesitated but sat down, nevertheless.

"You've just been out so much-"

"Yeah, I just need the time alone," he explained, monotonously. "To process things."

"Yeah," she mumbled to herself, sliding his plate towards him.

She took her plate and broke a piece of bread, eating it mindlessly. They both finished their food in silence, Greg finishing much earlier than she did. She watched him leave after cleaning his plate and twenty minutes later, he was out of the house with his backpack.