Username: 
Password:    
Remember Me

Search by :  Username E-mail Region Interest AOL IM ICQ Number Yahoo! ID MSN Username Jabber

colonelgibson (colonelgibson) wrote in thefield,

Kenneth had been awake most of the night listening to the wind and rain and hail. It wasn't the kind of weather he could sleep through. When the fire went out in the main camp, he swore softly. People were going to need that more than ever. Wrapping Bazzer in the sleeping bag, he dressed in all his clothes, grabbed both guns and his pack and headed out to see what he could find. With any luck he could stash some wood in overhangs and the like so it could dry out.

As he patrolled the camp, he noticed four shapes slipping through the brush and heading for the beach. It wasn't hard to make out Strike and her crew. He never had gotten very good answers from her about Angelica's gun, and Quinn's death and the illness had kept Helena, Alex and himself from making any decisions on what to do. He fell into step behind them, they weren't even looking for followers, which didn't surprise him.

He watched as they entered the river and headed across going north and east. Kenneth somehow doubted they were going to gather wood. Before he could follow though, a dog bolted out of nowhere barking up a storm, head craned up at the sky. What the fuck was a dog doing here? Were animals going to start randomly appearing on the island in their sleep?

Kenneth dropped to one knee as the brown hound approached him, still barking at the sky. "Don't think you can scare storms away, boy." He held his hand out cautiously, "Now how'd you get here?"