The Answer at the X

Chapter One - The Note : 1.1

«We tried too hard to save the world.»

Long slender fingers gripped the piece of paper, the light from the fire making the words hard to read. He didn't need to read it to know what the note said; he knew it all by heart. Somewhere out there in the night, an owl howled, making his sister stir. She slept by his side, curled up in her worn out sleeping bag, snoring lightly. He folded the piece of paper gently, as to not damage it further, and put it back inside the old notebook his father had given him. The leather was worn and cracked, the result of years of being exposed to the elements.

Simon had looked at that note every night for as long as he could remember. From before he was old enough to read it himself. Back then it was his sister Isobel who'd shown it to him in the light from their nightly fire. The note was a family heirloom, one of two. The other was the map, and that and the notebook were all that remained of their father now. His legacy.

The note was the reason they were out here, wandering the wilderness. On a mission started before they were born. When he was little, it had all been a game, exploring the wilderness with his sister, spending almost every day walking towards a great treasure. As he grew older and learned the truth, the game gave way to a way of life. A mission that would drive them until they either made it to the end or gave their life trying.

He brushed the hair from Isobel's face, watched how peaceful she looked as she slept, and tried not to laugh as she grunted in response. Stoking the fire he got to his feet, looking out into the dark night. His nightly ritual was always the same. Read the note, check on Isobel, make sure their early warning system was in place, and go to sleep. The warning system consisted of long pieces of rope with old boxes, silverware and other pieces of crap tried to it. Strong along the outskirts of their small campsite, it would let them know if anything came too close. Most humans didn't worry him, most wouldn't be out there walking in the dark anyway. No, it was the animals they set up the lines for.

There were plenty of animals in these mountains, and most of them were harmless. But some were not. They'd had trouble with wild dogs several times over the years. Just a few weeks ago a pack of almost twenty animals had followed them for days. A few had gotten too close, ripping his jacket instead of his arm by pure luck. They knew what the dogs could do all too well, had seen the remains of animals and humans they had torn apart more often than he cared to remember. Their father had taught them always to be wary of the dogs. Other wild animals still had a healthy wariness when it came to humans. Few saw them as food and would avoid them when they could. But not the dogs. Their instincts were all screwed up and would attack anyone if given a chance.

Having checked all the lines, all still right where they had left them, Simon returned to the fire. Isobel still slept, muttering in her sleep. Smiling, he rolled out his sleeping bag opposite hers around the fire. It looked as worn as her, and he ignored the holes in it. Once upon a time, it had been red, but the color had faded over the years. A few blue, green and brown patches showed where it had previously been repaired. Back when they had needle and thread, and spare cloth before a flash flood took half of their belongings.

He gripped the notebook tight as he lay down, just like he had gripped his little wooden horse as a child. Making sure his backpack was secured at the bottom of his sleeping bag, he took one last look at the sleeping form of his older sister and closed his eyes. He fell asleep listening for anything sneaking up on them in the night.