Beyond the Horizon

11. Camp Out

As the sun crept above the horizon, leaching through the gaps in the trees and kissing the ground with golden light, Shion thought, It's been eight days since I met Nezumi.

          Eight days had never seemed like a long time to Shion before, but now it felt as if a lifetime had passed. So much had transpired since that fateful morning in his mother's bakery that Shion already felt he could fill an entire novel with his and Nezumi's adventures. Shion wasn't much of a writer, but once he and Nezumi had stopped Horizon Labs (he forced down the nasty thought in his mind that hissed, If you can, that is), he might try his hand at it.

          The days were blending together. Shion and Nezumi had left the small town and, thankfully, Hawk and Mountain behind. After Shion tended to the wounds on Nezumi's face and hands, they'd walked through the night, no destination and no plan aside from "get the hell out of Dodge and live to fight another day." Shion was beginning to understand that this would become their norm. Living and fleeing and conserving their strength until the moment Nezumi deemed them ready to strike against Horizon Labs.

          Shion and Nezumi had spent nearly four days camping out in the woods. At times they drifted close to roads, lingering just out of sight of the cars that zipped along. When a gas station popped up, Nezumi snuck inside and worked his charms on the men behind the counters, convincing them that the fistful of leaves he offered were paper bills in exchange for protein bars, bottles of water, and on one lucky occasion, a ham and cheese sandwich that was more filling than anything Shion had eaten in the past few days. It nearly brought him to tears.

          They slept as little as possible. Just enough to get enough energy to keep moving forward. After the run-in with Hawk and Mountain, Shion and Nezumi slept in shifts. The nights were long and cold, but even a few hours to lie with his eyes closed and keep still meant the world to Shion.

          Though the thought of someone watching him sleep should have unsettled him, Shion found that he felt safe knowing Nezumi was looking out for him. He curled on the ground, bundled in his coat with his backpack serving as a makeshift pillow, and dozed while Nezumi sat beside him against one of the trees and kept watch.

          When it was Shion's turn to take watch, he couldn't help but pay attention to Nezumi. He was a light sleeper, and even when he drifted to sleep, his brow was furrowed and his lips pulled downward in a pensive frown.

          Shion wished there was something he could do to smooth those lines out, to comfort Nezumi enough that he'd feel relaxed for once.

          In his sleep, Nezumi tossed and turned. He never stayed still. His heavy black boot had struck Shion in the shin during one of his shifts, and it had taken all of Shion's restraint not to cry out, lest he wake Nezumi from whatever sleep he did manage to get. From then on, Shion made sure he was well beyond striking distance when it was Nezumi's turn to sleep.

          Nezumi slept very little. A couple hours, at best. It was a familiar routine. Shion would take watch, Nezumi would curl on his side and close his eyes, and then he would toss and turn until he bolted up with a choked gasp or a thin scream.

          The first time it happened, Shion had been so startled, he'd screamed, too. The sound made Nezumi look over at him with wild silver eyes, and Shion held his hands up to show Nezumi he wasn't armed, he wasn't a threat, and he wasn't there to hurt him.

          Once he'd realized he wasn't in danger, Nezumi tucked his legs up against his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and pressed his face against his knees so all Shion could see was a curtain of dark hair.

          "Do you want to talk about it?" Shion asked, once Nezumi's breathing had evened out.

          "No," Nezumi replied, his voice muffled.