Flames And Blades

Chapter Eleven: Dilemma

 I took a quick stop at Harvey's because I wanted a real form of food and then continued to where the oldish looking map had said the forest was. Withering Forest, an old campsite we used to go to until it was rumoured that coyotes were moving in on the area. A hopefully false rumor, seeing as I'm entering through it alone and smell like burgers and fries, with nothing but Warrisons sweater and bloodied riding jeans to protect me from everything (I was too flustered to put a load of laundry in and this option happened to be the closest thing crumpled on the floor beside me).

I get to the site with only a few problems and bumps in the road. Getting lost quite a few times and almost hitting a few poles dead on. The largest problem entirely would be finding where exactly, the 'x' marking what the spot was on this map. So I figure it out to follow the entrance sign and find the spot based on gut instinct. Obviously, my inner idiot has made a large appearance in my decisions lately.

Walking through the thinning trail that used to lead to campsites, my phone dies. I only realize when its final buzz and chirping noise fills my back pocket, I refuse to acknowledge it fully and save it for the back of my mind because I'm too focused on the feeling that I'm being watched. More like being chased, making me walk briskly into the dense forestry, come on, come up with a game plan, don't get killed.

Brushing my untied hair back with my left arm, I take my surroundings in venturing further. The fall to winter weather getting increasingly colder, drawing frost into the leaves like millions of dead and rotting art pieces. A sharp wind breeze by while I had just started taking the crunch of my feet on frosted grass for my own music, making me draw Warrisons sweater closer to me, and realize that the dried blood surrounding my jeans are acting like water right now; freezing on my thighs. Ultimately freezing me, and the wounds I should have cleaned out before I left for a dirt covered area. I keep going anyways, only stopping when I notice strange signs appearing on the trees. Faint hashing carved symbols. Taking them as a clue, to finding some sort of place to go, I continue to follow them until I am surrounded in their essence.

By this point, it should be so dark that I can't be able to see my hands in front of me, but it isn't. Because these witchy tree things started glowing a deep dark purple that lights up my surroundings. Looking closer, I realize that not only are they glowing, but the symbols are also dancing too. Swaying back and forth, to and fro, disappearing and reappearing all the time.

This factor is just a little bit unsettling.

Or maybe a lot, I don't know. I was too busy trying the run back to the car for a form of weapon to continue on. Just in case the magic things come back to life and have a thing for killing me. This 'running the hell out of dodge' thing gets me even more lost in a now severely dense and dark forest. I had run far and away from the symbols and was now entrapped in an actually normally behaving part of the forest.

Annoyed at myself for wasting such a surge of energy so thoughtlessly, I sit on the ground and pull out the map. Only I can't read maps so it's more of a coping mechanism than it is a helping tool. The longer I sit, the more lost I get, and by now it must be a few hours until sunrise. Meaning I should set up some sort of camp up and sleep until I can get help in the morning,

Only I don't. I just sit there, staring pointlessly at a piece of dead inked tree bark. Unable to sleep and unable to focus on anything.

Until I hear the scuffling of a bush near me. At this, I jump to my feet. Standing like I'm posing to be the next Rocky Balboa. The new one where I don't know how to make a proper fist let alone throw a solid punch, only pretending to look tough enough to be left alone. The two men emerge from the bush.

"Great. Tarzan and George have teamed up against me." The two stare, any details too dark for me to take in. All I know is that they are my height roughly and look humoured by me.

"George? As in, 'of the jungle'?" One says I can practically feel his brow furrowing on his fact check.

"No, George as in 'of Nebraska', great cook." I deadpan, annoyed at the fact that this only amuses the other guy more. Although they both do some smirk chuckle thing afterwards.

"Wow, this one gets snarky when without food for too long." I can't argue, but their discussing of me as if I know them pisses me off.

"Great, now that we've cleared up my diet and Georges situation, gonna tell me who you are or at least come into any form of light?" At this, they bost burst out laughing. Then slowly comply, walking out just barely in front of me and turning on their lamp.

Warrison and Adam. Their voices muffled by the bandanas they had on, for what reason I don't know. Most likely to feel like the lone ranger whilst in a forest. They must have been following, keeping watch on me at least. Not creepy at all.

"So, you saw me here, and just watched me?" I ask, annoyance creeping into my tone. "Like a child, imbecile or stalker I ask, obviously murder and sociopath are deleted from the list because you two would have given up these hunts at camp the first time, or taken notes and observations." They look at me, startled, and their eyes dart to the purple cloud. I thought it must have been my anger, making everything around me go read and bloody, but their eyes saw it too.

I have no clue what this means, and I'd like to get to a place I can actually sleep safely in. Like a home, before my anger and whatever this blood cloud is starts hurting people.

"Okay guys, safe ride home? Or do I have to ask for help via symbol drawing?" This clocks their attention and they both flank me, glaring at each other while doing so.

We get back to the trail parking lot, and my rental is the only thing in the lot. So, my question is, how else did they arrive here? Warrison takes my keys before I can fight him back, and ushers me into the backseat. Almost as if knowing my exhaustion was going to outsee every road line. Adam must have recognized this too and hops into shotgun.

From where my head rests, I can see his screen saver in front of his phone. A guy of no resemblance to him, yet still very attractive. Not having enough energy for a filter and quite drunk off the engines lulling me into a ninety-third dimension, I ask, "Whos the guy on your phone?". It comes out as a slur, but he recognizes it and looks at his screen with a pleasant and pure smile on his face, answering "My boyfriend.". His eyes tell all; he is completely and hopelessly in love. I'm still drunk and my unthought of response comes out.

"Damn, I don't know who's the luckiest, but I'm still inviting myself to the wedding," I say, falling under a lovely deep dark sleep with soft chuckling in the background. And not a clue what's going to happen next.