Xylia

Thirteen

"Who's your dad?"

The question slipped out of my lips before I could stop it. I cringed as I saw Drea's stoic face harden, brows pinching into a glare.

"Yeah, Drea who is your dad?" Volkan materialized to my side, leaning in curiously. Drea sighed, before responding.

"Well," she brought her metal leg up to her chest, cradling it cautiously, "he was born in this far away land called Nunya."

"Ohhh, I've never heard of that before," Volkan cooed.

"Yeah, but that's just what the locals called it. Its full name was Nunya Business." With that, she stood up and stormed away. Volkan and I shared a look. Sighing heavily, I laid back on the grass, savoring the morning dew that cooled my body.

"Hey Volkan," I propped up on my arms. My bruise pulsing on my cheekbone from Drea's attack, but that didn't stop me from eyeing the peaceful giant.

"Hmmm?"

"Can I ask you something?" He tenses slightly at my question, but nodded.

"How were you and Drea the only survivors?" Volkan deflated like a balloon, whether in dissapointment or relief, I couldn't tell.

He propped back on his elbows, before delving into the past events. "Well, I was helping the other campers haul some wood before Drea rushes in looking pretty hysterical. I remember being startled because Drea never shows any other emotion besides indifference or anger, ya know?" I nodded in agreement, soaking in his tale. Volkan's eyes darkened as he recalled the attack itself.

"Then, we heard people screaming and wailing from the base camp. I was about to check it out, but she told me what was happening. She said it would be best if we retreated, and then regroup with the other survivors." He looked off at the horizon, lost in the memory.

"I should've tried to go back for them."

"Hey no fair," I chided, "You didn't have any control over the situation." I slung an arm around his back, "and for what it's worth, I think you did the right thing."

A small chuckle fell from his lips, "You should take your own advice Xylia." I internally cringed. Not wanting to point out that I could have controlled the situation. Wanting to lighten the mood, I asked.

"So how'd you and Drea meet?"

He blew out a breath, before leaning on his long front legs. A fond smile quirked on his lips before he recalled. "We actually met in prison." I snorted in response.

"I remember the first day I got there, a bunch of other thugs thought it'd be fun to mess with me." His smile grew into a goofy lopsided grin.

"I wasn't gonna fight back because that's not my thing," his eyes softened," but then- then this small flurry of rage comes up and all the guys scurry away. Tail between their legs and all." We laughed at the all too believable reaction to Drea.

"She looked at me, then asked, 'you know how to cook?' I managed to not piss myself before wheezing out a 'yeah', and from then on we had an agreement, she would protect me and I would make us meals that weren't the trash they served at the jailhouse."

He locked his gaze on mine before singing," It was the start of a beautiful friendship." He finished, clasping his hands together while staring off dreamily.

"Wait, where did you get the food? And where was I during all this? I hated that Cyran sludge." I pouted.

"I have connections," he drawled mischievously, waggling his eyebrows. I snickered at his ridiculous expression, my fit of laughter spiraling into a full on spasm of giggles. Next thing I know, I'm rolling around hysterically cackling.