Enoch Crosslin (crossedwire) wrote in thefield, @ 2009-04-04 13:35:00 |
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Current mood: | okay |
Entry tags: | cross, helena, z - 1st tribe - day 14 |
Trek to Grazer Island, Day 1
Who: Cross and Helena
What: Walking east toward the lake in the grasslands
When: Beginning at first light on Day 14.
Where: The camp tree and then the path east.
Rating: PG
Helena sighed, feeling bad as she crouched to slip the braided straps of her makeshift bedroll pack on to her thin shoulders. Rook had appeared as she'd climbed down the tree. He'd strapped some bark to his feet and was attempting to lash it on with strips of material. It had been a bit of an argument but she had insisted that he stay behind with Kenneth to help with the projects. To help gather or hunt with the rest of the people staying put. He hadn't liked it, revealing another long stubborn streak amidst the men of this group. In the end she'd just had to be firm about it. She wasn't risking his life on this trip. No way. No how. As Cross had emerged from the bushes with his own bedroll assembled, she had called up a farewell to Kenneth who'd waved from the stream, giving her nod to say that he knew what had to be done. She knew he'd take care of things and it was a relief.
That didn't stop her from being nervous. She'd strapped on her own makeshift shoes out of the rubber soles Cross had given her, gladiator style with strips of cloth wrapped halfway up her calf. They had a bit of stylish flare but they were also firmly attached to her feet and felt steady. All she could do was hope they held up. It was amazing, the spring in her step from the bouncy rubber. "Ready?" she tilted a questioning look up at Cross as she handed him a hunk of the smoked grazer for his breakfast. She'd wrapped up some more for later on their trip, when they stopped to eat something.
Cross was as ready for this trip as it was possible for him to be, he thought. He'd sharpened his knife, gathered a few things he'd thought might be helpful, most of them tucked into the numerous pockets of his cargo pants, and he'd drank deeply from the stream, washed his face and hair with soap pods and tucked his shirt into his rear pocket, the material hanging halfway down his leg. It was early enough that he could go without it for a while and not risk too much sun exposure. He was going to have to do something about finding another shirt before long, not an easy proposition with how large he was. His bedroll was strapped on with vine, and it was so light that he thought he'd barely notice it as they walked.
He greeted Helena with a nod, accepting the smoked meat she handed him. "Thanks," he said, appreciative of the fact that now he wouldn't have to track something down before they left or on the way.
She gave him a small smile and a nod before stepping on to the path that was starting to wear east along the stream. She was feeling a bit giddy with the excitement of going to see someplace new. Of getting away from the tree and the fear of the laughers. Mostly just a freedom from the responsibility for everyone in the camp. It was nice to shift that burden on to Kenneth's back for a while, even if it was only implied. She walked in silence as the shadows on the path were swept away, light started to edge of leaves. It seemed watery and a bit gray. She tried to peer up through the dense foliage but couldn't really make out the sky from beneath the spreading canopy. "Does it feel like rain to you?" she said after an hour of walking.
Cross was content with the silence, and he'd found that was one thing that he and Helena seemed to have in common. It was perfectly acceptable not to talk if there was nothing that needed to be said. He'd finished his makeshift breakfast and wiped his hands on the tail of the shirt that was hanging out of his pocket and then settled into the walk, his mind free to wander. He turned his head to glance at Helena when she asked him if it felt like rain. "Little bit," he rumbled. He flexed his shoulders in a stretch and continued to walk, thinking that he wouldn't mind so much if it did rain. Not like they were going to be spreading their bedrolls out tonight anyway; they'd be sleeping in a tree.
"Hmm," she said. If they were in for a storm as bad as the one they had seen a few days ago, was this walk wise? Her dark brows drew together as she mulled that over. "If a bad storm hits before we break the trees, do you just want to camp at the edge of the woods for the night?" They'd make the edge of the grasslands before noon. It would be a shame to lose most of the day but getting caught out in the open on the prairie might not be the best thing either. Wasn't there a chance they could lose their way in a storm? Wander too far away from these little trees he'd mentioned and not make it there by dark?
"We might wanna consider it," Cross said, his tone thoughtful. "Depends how bad it is." He didn't mind walking in the rain; even a thunderstorm wouldn't bother him all that much if there wasn't an overabundance of lightning... but it would be foolhardy to try to travel in a monsoon like the one that had struck camp before some of them had gone east. He was thinking along the same lines as she was as he added, "Don't wanna get off-course." That could be dangerous, but he saw no need to verbalize that, because she already knew, he felt sure. Helena was one of the more intuitive people he could remember meeting.
She heaved a sigh and nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind walking in the rain. I have Annie's sweater if I get too cold." It wasn't waterproof but it might help. She glanced down at her feet as she picked her way over the rocks along the stream. "The shoes are working really well." She flashed him a smile. "Thanks again." It was her own personal flair that gave them something of a gladiator sandal look. Just because one was out in the middle of nowhere didn't give one an excuse to ignore fashion when they had the opportunity to pay homage to it. Not that she'd ever say anything so silly to Cross. The fact that the soles were stuck to her feet was likely good enough for him.
There were times when Cross was not nearly as considerate as he should be, mostly because he was not accustomed to having to consider anyone else's wants and needs but his own. When Helena sighed and said she didn't mind walking in the rain, his brow furrowed slightly and he looked over at her. "If you'd rather, we can find a place to take cover," he said. "If it rains." In all honesty, his preference would have been to continue striving on unless the weather got outrageously nasty, but he had to realize that he was not the only one on this journey. "I'm glad," he said in response to what she'd said about the shoes. He thought her method for holding them onto her feet, which he hadn't noticed until she mentioned them, was quite creative.
Her smile broke into a grin when he looked down at her feet. "Don't worry about me Cross. I want to push on as much as possible. I'll keep up." She was worried he might feel she would slow him down. Her stride was much shorter, that was for sure. So to prove her ability to keep up, she lengthened it and quickened her pace. She lapsed back into silence for a while, the muscles in her legs burning with the exercise. She was going to have to get used to it though. They had an awfully long walk to go. The wind was blowing out of the east and the further they walked, the more that the scent of rain gusted past.
Cross wasn't so much worried about her slowing him down as he was about the fact that she was a lot smaller than him and, yes, had a much shorter stride. But he remembered very well what she'd said to him the night before about not being helpless or fragile and he didn't say anything. He knew that she wouldn't want to be a liability for him or anyone, but he didn't think of her that way. He settled back into the walk, pausing once to duck into the trees for a quick bathroom break and then emerging to continue the journey. As they got further along, he lifted his head and inhaled deeply, unable to miss the oncoming rain. "Here it comes," he said mildly. The sky was darkening and a bit of a chill infused the air; he'd even thought about possibly putting his t-shirt back on.
When he'd veered off, Helena had made use of a nearby bush as well. As she gathered her pack back up, a gust of wind had urged her to pull on Annie's bright orange hoodie with a sigh. She was going to get wet but she might as well be warm now. Besides, it had a hood. She nodded her acknowledgment as the dimness spread and it wasn't long before the patter on the canopy was rising in volume. It would take a while for the rain to make it down to their level but it was definitely awe inspiring. Eventually, it was so loud that it was almost impossible to be heard over it. The stream was rising in the bed along side them and she looked at Cross. That was fast, the water was coming down hard and...yes, she thought the trees were beginning to thin. Little rivulets of water were running west through the undergrowth and merging with the stream.
It was easy for Cross to keep sight of Helena in the orange hoodie. He was glad she had some protection from the elements. It wouldn't do much good, but he'd pulled his t-shirt back on again, unfastening and then refastening his bedroll as he walked. The rain was a roar, a sound that put him in mind of monsoon night. It didn't seem that the wind was as high, but it made him wonder if they shouldn't stop and see what was going to happen. He had to wonder if flash floods were a possibility here. He reached for Helena's sleeve and leaned down to yell, "Think we should stop?"
She blinked water droplets from her eyes and nodded, gesturing to some drooping tree with heavy branches, something that didn't grow close to their camp and brought to mind both ancient pine trees and weeping willows. The plant had a tart scent to it that was not unpleasant but she couldn't quite place why it was familiar. Brushing aside one of the drooping branches she stepped beneath it and the sound of the rain muted. The trunk of the tree was prickly and spiny like the rind of a pineapple and it was growing out of a massive split rock. The rock looked dry so she shrugged her pack onto it and sat down to catch her breath. Once she'd stopped panting she called to Cross in the slightly quieter closeness of the tree. "Hopefully it's just one of those quick and violent storms!"
It wasn't so bad under here, but Cross had to be careful not to bump his head on one of the low-hanging branches. Surprisingly enough, it kept them completely dry. He brushed the beads of water off his arms and wrung out his hair, then seated himself on the rock next to Helena. Now that they were under cover, they could hear one another speak, and he replied, "Yeah, hope so." He'd left his bedroll on, and he leaned back against the tree and let it provide a cushion for his back against the spiny trunk of it. The sound of the rain was muffled enough to be soothing now that they weren't walking in it, and he thought that it reminded him of many nights in London when he'd left the balcony door of his flat open to catch the sound of a downpour.
Helena would have been pleased to know that they shared a habit like that. She loved thunderstorms and the sound of rain. So much so that she also left her windows open enough to hear a storm clearly. She even had an alarm clock that would play the sound of a storm on nights when she couldn't sleep. It wasn't quite the same thing, but it was a decent substitute. She brushed the damp hood back off of her hair and sighed. "Want to eat something?" She turned away from him and brushed her hair back over her shoulder as she rooted into her pack. "I have about a handful of roseberries. A little bit of citruscress and more meat. Anything sound good?"
"No," Cross said, wiping away the excess water that was drizzling from his hair. "Thanks," he added belatedly. Between the fact that he felt sure she didn't have all that much food with her and the fact that he was strangely not that hungry even after the several hours' exertion they'd undertaken thus far, he figured he'd pass for now. Surely as they got further and further away from their camp that had been nearly stripped bare of food there would be more edible things to be found. He strongly believed that. He stretched out his legs a little and sighed, feeling the release of endorphins all through his body. There was no way any of them would ever be less than physically fit here, he thought.
Helena felt like she was in the best shape of her life as well. No more chips and ice cream. Plenty of tree climbing and long walks on a daily basis. Hell, even scrubbing her clothes was a great workout. She shrugged and popped a few of the slightly overripe berries between her teeth. Their strange rose flavored juice filled her sinuses with the scent of a garden in full bloom until she swallowed. She spotted a dried climber leaf on the forest floor and held it out from under their little shelter for a few minutes until she'd captured a few sips. It was cool as it fell from the sky and she sighed happily as it hit the back of her parched throat. Now that they weren't moving, Helena gave him a sidelong look. "I don't know much about you, Cross. What's your last name?" she wouldn't lie and say she wasn't curious about him in the least.
Cross had been zoning out a little as Helena ate her berries and snagged herself some water, the sound of the rain filling his senses. As focused as he'd been on making time during their walk, he'd have to admit he didn't mind having to stop for a short while. He might regret it later when they didn't get as far as they might have liked, but he didn't now. When Helena looked at him and asked what his last name was, he turned his head and gazed at her, his pale-lashed blue eyes noncommittal. "Crosslin," he told her. "What's yours?" He could not remember ever hearing Helena's last name, though it was possible she'd told him at some point.
Helena looked surprised at that. "Cross Crosslin?" She chuckled and smiled. "Alright, so Cross is a nickname, right?" If he didn't want her to know his full name, that was fine. She could understand that well enough. Besides, what was this place anyways than a chance to reinvent oneself as well as one's civilization. "It's Chu. Helena Mae Chu." It was her maiden name and it still felt weird to call herself by that name again. "It was Helena Sagong until recently when I got divorced." She quirked a rueful smile at him. He hadn't asked and she hadn't really talked about it with anyone. It was just that they were on a long journey together and how weird would it be not to learn anything about each other along the way? Maybe it's just that factoids about their former lives weren't all that important here and now. They were just the safe and familiar things to discuss for Helena.
"My mama named me Enoch," Cross told her. "Biblical name." She might know that, but then again she might not. "Nobody calls me that, though." Well, except for his mother, whom he'd likely never see again, so it was a moot point. He'd chosen Cross for himself when he'd been just a teenager, and it fit him like a second skin by now. He considered her words, then added some more of his own with a faint smile: "No middle name, never been married." He'd never been able to imagine any woman who could put up with his ways for very long, and he'd never particularly wanted to marry, either. Too many chances to let someone down.
Helena could tell him a thing or two about failing someone in a marriage, whether it was fair or not. She had known the lay of the land going in, but like all women in love might occasionally do, she had told herself it wouldn't matter in the long run. It had and here she was. Then again, it's not like she signed up for this. Maybe she'd have appeared here anyways, even if things had been different. "Enoch? That's not a name you hear every day," she wasn't making fun of him. It was hard to make fun of Cross. "I think I do like Cross better though. Suits you." Outside the patter of the rain was tapering off. She turned her face toward it as she considered his other bit of information. Never been married. He never talked about someone special waiting for him back home but she wasn't sure if he would. Like she was, he seemed fairly calm in the notion that they would never see their homes again. Maybe if there was a girlfriend, he had decided she was history.
Cross was secure in himself, certain that he had everything he needed to sustain his well-being in life... but he'd never been sure of that when it came to another person. Any woman who dated him typically became frustrated by the way he subtly thwarted any attempts at real intimacy. He was unfailingly polite, a considerate lover... but beyond that, he was not good at letting others close to him. He hadn't ever wanted to, really. "Never heard of anyone else in the modern world named Enoch," he said, a touch of amusement in his voice. He thought Cross suited him much better, too. "Ever had a nickname?" he asked idly, though he wasn't sure how anyone could make a nickname out of the name Helena.
Chuckling, she shook her head. "Not until I came here. Kenneth has called me Sprite a few times. I think it's stuck for him." A sprite was a kind of fairy, wasn't it? She was small but not that small. And she didn't think of herself as being quite so girly. But it didn't insult her that he called her that. It was sort of endearing. "I don't mind it. Seems to be his thing. He calls a lot of people by nicknames. He called Angelica Gwen, which I don't get at all." Standing up from her spot on the rock she brushed forest debris off of the back of her shorts and tucked away her little bits of food again.
Cross shrugged. "Maybe she reminds him of someone," he offered. He watched Helena get up and begin putting her food away, and he got up as well. It sounded like the rain had faded, and to him that meant it was time to resume walking. He stretched, flexing his shoulders beneath the light bedroll, and sighed, raking his fingers through his still-damp hair. "We ready to get started again?" he asked her. He had hopes that they could cover a lot of ground today so there wouldn't be as much walking to do the next day.
Shouldering her bedroll again she bounced to make sure it was good and situated. She both admired and envied the way that Cross's strong shoulders carried the weight of his own pack. Helena would have died before asking for help carrying a blanket and pillow, though, so she nodded. "Yeah, it looks like it's just sprinkling out there now. Might be nice to walk in, right?" They were still following the stream but eventually they would have to veer north, away from it. Who knew if there was anyplace they could stop for water after that? Kenneth and Jasper had both said that the grasslands were struck through with thin little creeks and streams. Just enough water to splash through, not swim in, but it all seemed to be fresh and clean enough to drink. The damp weather might help avoid any dehydration and poor Cross was still red from his earlier walk. Hopefully the rain would save him from a worse sunburn.
"Nice and cool," Cross agreed. He figured that his skin was going to be like leather after several more weeks out here, but he'd never been one to concern himself with appearances that much. Walking in the rain was pleasant; in London he'd occasionally ran in the rain, figuring he was going to get wet and sweaty anyway, so why wait until the weather cleared? He stepped to the edge of the tree and pulled up one of the heavy, drooping branches, holding it so Helena could step out. Hopefully they'd walk without incident until it was time to make camp.