How to survive

Good times

Luka studied Kali's face. Her skin seemed to glow bronze in the sunlight and she looked immortal. Luka grimaced as he dug his hands deeper into Floofy's white fur. He used to hate Floofy. He hated Vanji in general. Luka traced his eyes across the skyline. Floofy soared slowly tracing lazy circles high in the sky.

Suffice to say, it wasn't an ideal job for someone with extreme vertigo. Luka had spent several days furiously wiping away tears of fear and shock after his flying sessions. His job was to look at the ground far below and try to spot any rebels or riots happening and report them back to the general. Staring down at the down from hundreds of feet in the air was terrifying. His vision would tunnel until he could only see the ground, which would jump in and out of focus. His throat would clog with a thick water feeling that Luka detested with all his heart.

Luka set his gaze onto the horizon, watching the sunset and bronze pillars illuminate with beams of gold. Slowly, he got over his fear, he ignored the tightness in his stomach and his shaking hands until they stopped. He wasn't going to let his fears get him killed.

When compared to Kali, Luka had a plushy job. The only torment he received from his cohort happened about once every week. They would come in the morning and push him around. They weren't trying to hurt Luka, though he did get bruises after every encounter. Instead, they were trying to delay him, so that he was late for assembly. Luka wasn't trained in hand to hand combat. He only knew how to snipe with his bayonet, so he didn't even try to fight back. He took the blows with a poker face that showed not pain or annoyance.

A small part of Luka hoped that if he ignored his cohort, they would disappear as well.

Luka smiled, realising that he had spent the whole flight deep in thought, completely neglecting Kali. He shifted his gaze back to her and began to speak when he noticed small red stains decorating Floofy's back. He traced the blood back up to Kali's stomach, where a hand was clasped to a deep scarlet gash. Kali's face was set in a small grimace. Kali hated showing any weakness. Luka knew that if she was grimacing, then the pain was immense.

Gently, Luka reached over and lifted her hand off the bloody gash in her stomach, hating how she flinched at his touch. He surveyed the wound, inspecting the cleanliness of the gash. "It'll need stitches," he murmured.

Kali sighed. "I know."

Luka often hated Kali's damn self-righteousness. It was hard for her to admit that she needed help and it was even harder for her to understand that Luka didn't want anything in return for small favours.

Luka flicked his eyes up from her wound. "So when were you planning on telling me?" he said while crossing his arms. "When it became important," came Kali's simple reply. For all of the nights that they had spent together and for all the misadventures that they had shared, Luka still didn't know much about Kali. Hell, he didn't even know her real name. They had found each other in the stocks. Both of them were suffering for a crime that they didn't commit in the sweltering Naranjan heat, with stocks and chains wrapped around their ankles and arms.

Honestly, both were more annoyed by the heat than the restraints. Kali squirmed in the stocks, trying to look around her at the other unfortunate muck-ups. Suddenly there was a commotion coming from one side. She heard someone falling to their knees next to her and the heavy sound of the chains being fastened around their neck and limbs. Craning her neck, Kali glanced over at the other man, ignoring the sharp bursts of pain that rewarded her for her effort.

It was a boy. He was different from most of the other people in the army. He had skin that was much darker than the average tanned Naranjani with white hair that still held its pearly sheen, even though it was caked with dust and dirt. His eyes were shockingly blue and clam as a clear sky. A voice stirred Kali from her staring. "Are you going to keep watching me for the rest of the day or are you going to actually talk to me?"

The boy was the one talking. He spoke with a lazy drawly permeating every word. He spoke as if the world was at his feet, even though he was also bound to the same miserable block of wood as Kali.

They became friends instantly.

Now, as they drift away in the golden sky, there is only one thing on their mind.

They were the best friends on this entire miserable planet.