The Altered.

Chapter XXIX

The following day, Miles was watching out of the treehouse window, elbows resting on the splintered wood and face in his hands. On the ground below, Aaron was practicing swinging the baseball bat - everything about the movements reminded Miles of how the blond was a dancer. It seemed, in fact, that most things Aaron did, gave away the fact that he danced; he was graceful and nimble and smooth.

Luca was also down below the treehouse with Kano and Bronte, throwing sticks for the dog. They'd fed it that morning with the last of the fruit they'd had - none of them had known what was healthy for dogs to eat, except that it certainly wasn't candy and chocolate. Hopefully, today when they returned to the city, they'd be able to find something more substantial to give the dog.

Miles was shocked that Buddy had endured the night and stayed in the yard. He had slept outside despite Luca's constant protests to try to fix a better sleeping situation for him, and was now playing quite calmly - almost lazily - with the other teens.

"It's good to see that the dog's friendly," Lia commented, appearing beside Miles.

Miles grunted his agreement, lifting his elbows off the windowsill and shifting his weight onto his forearms instead. "It can't stay, though."

Lia looked unhappy as she reluctantly nodded. "Well, not with us, at least. Luca would be heartbroken, but once we head back into the city... Buddy will have to stay here."

"I still don't know about that plan, Lia," Miles confessed. "I understand that it's logical to separate from Bri's group so that we can cover more ground, but the city is so dangerous. By the time we get there, it'll be in much worse condition than it was when we left. Bri could hardly keep us all concealed as she was leading us here, and that was two days ago."

"I know, but what choice do we have?"

Miles shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I know you're right, and we have to go, but we've got to be so careful."

"We will be."

Miles turned around, gingerly touching his fingers to where his wound hit behind a dirty shirt and new bandages from earlier that morning. It was still sore, but the pain was starting to ebb as the days passed.

On the note of pain, Miles turned his eyes on Percy, who was still in the corner of the room, knee's lifted and hands wrung in his lap. The boy had hardly eaten at all since he'd fallen ill, and it showed. He was pale and looked even sicker than he had when the illness had first hit him.

Miles broke away from Lia - though she followed anyway - to meander to Percy's side, opting to sit down not too far away. Lia sat a little closer.

"Percy." Miles tried to be gentle, but it sounded strained. His speciality didn't fall under taming his tone.

"What?" Percy was agitated, which was hardly surprising. His voice was sharp and expectant.

Miles had to bite his tongue in order to contain a response formulated based on Percy's attitude. "I just wanted to know how you were doing."

Percy's fingers dug into his prosthetic arm. "You can answer that yourself."

Lia looked at the sick boy sympathetically, though she also appeared to be uneasy. Miles had something on his mind, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask Percy questions like that while Percy was in his current state.

Percy had his eyes watchfully searing holes in the top of Miles' head as the latter eyed the ground contemplatively. As if he could read Miles' mind, he said, "You can ask me whatever you want. I don't care."

Right. "How'd you get that arm?"

Percy's sudden sour expression showed that he greatly regretted giving Miles the ability to ask whatever he wanted. "When I was ten, I nearly burnt the house down when I was left home alone." He shrank into his clothes, cheeks dusted pink. "I hurt myself by mistake. And killed the cat."