The Field

Who: Aaron and Analiese
Where: At the spring
When: Late afternoon
What: Looking for some relief
Rating: NC-17 for sex in the spring.

( This Just Isn't Normal )

Who: Aaron and Thorne
When: Early, as breakfast is cooking
Where: Beside the cookfire at camp
What: The enaction of various duties, assigned and percieved.
Rating: TBD, most likely G

Aaron sighed as he settled himself next to the fire, pulling the wiggling woven grass basket toward himself. All around him, the camp was coming awake and everyone was making themselves ready for the day. His fellow lumberjacks exited lean-tos and rolled out from under the carts. He saw Coop, barely conscious, urged over into the shadow of Delilah's lean-to by a rather gentle handed Adnan. They'd need the cart she had been sleeping under. He had to smile as his crew leader carefully repositioned her and she obvious fell back asleep immediately. Must be nice to sleep that deep, he thought to himself in a grumbly mutter. He himself had no such luck. His charges were loud enough to wake him up every few hours for their feeding.

He'd woken early and procured a bowl of fresh goats milk. Lucien and Nef had told him he could help himself and he managed to milk Lucy the goat without too much fuss. She tended to bite and obstinately sidle away but she was getting used to him now, Aaron supposed. With one bowl of milk and one bowl of slightly warmed water he'd left sitting by the fire, he settled in to tend to his own morning duty. Feed the kittens and give them a bath. Reaching in to the basket he pulled out one of the two smokey blue grey kittens. It mewed and blinked it's huge eyes up at him and he started. Their eyes were open! That was new. Giving it an affectionate rub he tipped it over to get a look at which one it was. Female, he could tell, and with a spot of orange on it's back flank. "I'm gonna have to come up with names for you guys soon," he told her conversationally as he dipped a corner of his hoodie in the waiting bowl of milk and offered it to her to suck on. This was slow business and it's why he had to wake up so much earlier than the others.

Who: Adnan and open to any of the lumber peeps!
When: most of the day
Where: forest across the lake, camp, points between
Rating: TBD

Adnan was grateful for the fair weather, even though the sun was beating down. At least it was better than horrible storms. He'd led the men who volunteered to go with him to the mast trees that he and Helena had spotted from their explorations. It was going to be a trek between there and camp, but it was what they had to do. The stone axes worked better than he could've hoped, but they were still small in comparison to what they were taking down, and things were slow-going. But with everyone willing to work hard, he knew they could accomplish what they had to.

Stopping for a moment to straighten out his spine and arm sweat off of his forehead, Adnan squinted at they sky and then around at the other toiling men. He scratched at the scruffy beard he was developing and stepped away to take a breather. There was no question they were all going to be unrecognizably tan by the time this was all over.

Aaron's heard was still pounding as he returned the to camp from his clam dig down the beach. He'd heard the commotion, all the dogs barking as well as people shouting. Wiping his hands on his jeans he rushed forward into camp, seeing that whatever had attacked them had moved on. Wide eyed, he took in the destruction and the confused or angry expressions on the people milling around. Rushing over to the cart to check on his belonging he gasped as one furry body lay sprawled in the mud. "Mamma!" he said breathlessly as he dropped down on to his knees. Gently he turned her toward him but there was no mistaking it. Those incredibly jewel bright green eyes were flat, vacant. Her head flopped bonelessly and Aaron eased her carefully back to the ground. "Poor thing," he said. Clearly the ill-tempered cat had taken on one of the dogs to protect her babies.

With his heart in his mouth, Aaron reached for the basket where the ten day old kittens had lived their short lives. Pulling it ward himself his shoulders slumped in relief when the sides of the grass-woven basket wiggled. He reached into the silky fuzzy mass and withdrew the four kittens one at a time. They blinked their massive eyes against the brighter light and mewled and were generally oblivious to the loss they had just suffered. "I'll look after you guys," he promised them. His eye took in a bit of movement and he spotted Lucy the pregnant goat. "Hopefully her milk will be good enough to get you guys through until you can hunt on your own." After a few more sympathetic strokes of their large sail-like ears he carefully tucked them back into the basket and tucked his hoodie in around them.

Aaron spent the morning burying Mamma cat and then giving his sleeping bag a good scrub. Maybe someday soon he'd actually get to sleep in it himself.

Who: Aaron, Open to one more! (Posting Order: Cross, Angelica, Aaron)
Where: The beach in front of camp
When: Early Afternoon
What: Archery lessons to anyone who wants them.

Arlo was no teacher, that was plain to see. He was downright unpleasant to be around for more than thirty seconds. That is, unless you were a young girl. Aaron had butted heads with him a time or two but one thing they did both agree on was that Aaron was the more experienced archer. Arlo had thusly given him four of the composite bows he'd made and a thick bundle of arrows.

After speaking with Bazzer about the state of their skins, furs and needs in that respect, he'd come back to camp with a bit of determination. He was going to get the hang of these hand made bows and arrows. He was going to learn to hunt with them. So he'd bundled up some of the fallen thatching scattered around camp and tied them all into a thick bale that he could use as the target. There was nothing like paint to put a bullseye on it so they'd just have to eyeball it. After setting it on a boulder on the beach, he paced away from the target and set the bows down, sticking the arrows point down into the sand.

It was still drizzling from time to time but for now the wind was down, which helped. Trying to calculate the angles when accounting for wind was never the easiest thing. It took practice and time, and when your tools were not exact from arrow to arrow, that made it even harder. Before long, he felt he'd drawn a bit of an intermittent crowd. Stopping to wipe a bit of sweat off of his brow, he turned to look at the watchers. "Anyone want to learn?" he asked, "I can probably teach you."

Who: Aaron and Bazzer
Where: The tannery
What: Surveying the damage from the storm and cleaning up
When: Mid-morning

( Brains. Need braaaaains )

Who: Aaron, Adnan, Coop and Delilah
Where: Camp
When: Just after dawn
What: Fleeing for their lives
Rating: G

Aaron was not sleeping. Of course not. The carts were not exactly water tight and there were no walls protecting himself and his squirming, hissing sleeping bag from getting soaked by the occassional gust of wind. Even the sound of the rain pelting the bed of the cart was loud enough to keep him blinking with gritty eyes. Hood up, jacket zipped, he was still cold and wet. The water was starting to run over the ground, seeking a way back to the body of water it had likely sprung from. Lightening flashed and thunder rolled but after a while he was sure that dawn that broken. It was just hard to tell under the shroud of the storm. The rain seemed to abate for a while and it was hard to miss the fact that Ken had escorted a new arrival into camp. She was clad in a bright red dress that seemed pristine and out of place here. He was sure the dress was probably billowy on a good day but today it was soaked and she was holding the strapless thing up with hands across her chest. The most amazing thing was that a soaked and scruffy looking brown dog seemed to be huffing and snuffling through the camp as well. He poked his head into every lean-to and it made Aaron inch a little closer to his sleeping bag. Rumor had it that cats and dogs didn't mix well.

The first place Delilah had run was the trees. She'd been sleeping, minding her own damn business under Quinn's old blanket -- something nobody had begrudged her, which she was grateful for -- and all of the sudden she was soaked and sputtering. She'd gotten up and dashed for cover somewhere, getting down to belly-crawl into the brush. It had worked for a little while, keeping her from getting pelted for the most part, though there was no way to stay dry. And it was cold. She was going to be sick again by morning if she didn't find some way to conserve body heat. But then the hail had started, and the brush wasn't doing much good at keeping that off of her. She sat up, arms over her head, and looked desperately around. There was someone under one of the carts, and she made a mad dash for it, scrambling underneath in the mud, just to have something solid over her head.

Coop was just stunned. When the very nice colonel lead her in to camp, she'd somehow expected military barracks. Tents, chairs, crates. Exactly what you usually see in the movies. She'd expected shiny faced, buttoned up young men barking commands and responses to one another or perhaps a bunch of lazy veterans oiling their guns in tipped-back folding chairs. Nothing like that presented itself. At it's absolute roughest, it was a survivalist camp. A go-into-the-bush-and-carve-out-an-existence type of place.

( Rush For Cover )

Who: Aaron and Nefertiti
Where: In the camp
What: Building a lean-to
When: Afternoon, after the funeral
Rating: Probably G

Aaron armed some sweat off of his brow with the sleeve of his t-shirt. He'd used his new hammer and a stone wedge he'd found to split logs into planks the past several hours and now he felt as though he had the makings of a lean-to frame. He chose his spot where the sloped back would mostly face the water (and therefore keep the worst of the wind off of the grasslands out of the hut) and the open front would face the fire pit (thereby absorbing maximum warmth). He paced it out with his boots and then dug a pit for the first two posts, nearly eight feet apart. Given his height, he thought that was a good length. Then he could store pots of his personal possessions at the foot of his bedroll. That is, when the mama cat inside his sleeping bag allowed him to get anywhere near it without hissing and attacking. So far, his blanket was still sitting on the cart it had arrived in. At least he had his pillow, he thought as he hammered the posts in nice and deep.

The first night for Nefertiti had not been easy. However the familiarity of having to wake up every few hours to check on a pregnant animal comforted her and made her feel safe in this alien world. Some facts of life just never changed. The warmth of Lucien next to her had also helped ease the distress gnawing at the back of her mind. Never gonna see Milford again, or her own goat, Bran. Still she reminded herself to remain strong and guarded against any panic attacks. They would just do no good out here.

With the goat comfortable and secured under her and Luc's tree ( and the funeral for someone she had never met avoided ) Nefertiti was looking around for something to keep her hands and her mind busy. When she saw a man working alone on what looked like a lean-to she weighed the pros and cons of offering her assistance. On the good side, she'd have something to do. On the bad side, she'd probably end up with blisters and a solid crick in her neck. Always practical, she found her feet carrying her over to him. Tilting her hat back away from her face she called out, "You need help? I got some good strong arms and I helped build fences more than a few times."

( The Common Thread )

Who: Aaron and Analiese
When: early morning
Where: wandering
What: getting acquainted and finding things
Rating: most likely PG

( too convenient? )

Who: Angelica and Open
Where: Current camp
When: 23rd late morning
What: Angelica is sick and trying to hide it for now.
Rating: At least PG-13

( Cold water+severe sunburn+everything else=sick? )

Who: Kenneth and Aaron
Where: In the sweet grind fields
When: Noonish
What: Talk.

( Getting each other's measure )

It was closer to dusk than Kenneth liked when the shore of the lake came into view, but the sight and burgeoning darkness sped the feet of the travelers as their destination appeared. So far there was no sound of laughers behind them, which Kenneth was thankful for.

At the beach, it was organized chaos, but the planning that had been done en route was invaluable as they got the heavier things out of the carts. Kenneth was pleased to see they did in fact float, better even than he'd thought. In groups of two and three people, one stronger swimmer to one or two weaker, they held onto the makeshift rafts and made their way slowly across the fifty or so yards that separated them from the mainland.

Kenneth watched nervously, but some of that disappeared as he made out the form of Helena on the opposite shore. She was alive.

By the time the last raft made it across, which left only the heavier clay pots full of resin, collected food, medicine and Bazzer's skins, the laughers were hot on their trail. On Kenneth's orders, the pots were moved into the shallows and he stood guard over them as their strongest swimmers made a second trip across, this time manhandling the heavy clay pots in groups of two, with longer lengths of braided grass they had thanks to Rowan, tied around them to form a sort of sling like carrier. They took the medicines first, then the resin and skins. Food was easier to replace.

Sooner than he wanted, Kenneth saw the glowing eyes of the laughers. He took one shot then grabbed one of the remaining pots and dove into the water with the laughters splashing in the shallows along the bank. He was surprised to see Aaron, Alex and Thorne make a final dash for the remaining pots and swore softly as he saw the laughers lunge forward.

In a blink, he realized that the four of them had gotten away. They'd sacrificed some of the food they'd gathered, but Kenneth would take that. Given the other possibilities? He'd totally take that.

Who: Aaron and Delilah
When: Late afternoon
Where: Within sight of the wagon train
What: Finding something cool.
Rating: G

( Lead To A Place We Don't Belong )

Who: Kenneth and anyone/everyone leaving on the 20th
When: Mid morning
Where: Heading east
What: Taking a break


There was no way to keep up the grueling pace all day, at least not for most. Kenneth made sure to call plenty of halts, at least as many as he possibly could, but they still weren't making the speed they'd need to get to the safe camp. Fortunately, he'd sort of planned on that, his worst case scenario. If they didn't make it, he'd circle the carts, build a fire and people would just have to stay awake. The Laughers were smart, he hoped if he took down enough of them, they'd just back off. Did Laughers have a concept for unacceptable losses?

Kenneth didn't know, but he did know that would burn through his ammunition, something he'd already decided was worth it to protect those coming with him. He looked around and squinted up at the sun. Sacrificing a blanket, he tore strips of it with his knife then handed them to the closest person. "Soak these with some water and get people to put them on the back of their necks and heads. It might help."

Who: Aaron
When: Just after nightfall
Where: The tree, his hammock
What: Rotten luck, or is it?
Rating: PG for swearing.

Aaron dragged himself up the curved trunk of the climber tree. He had to climb upward and back again, shuffle around and crane his neck but eventually he remembered where his bed was. He was still in shock, no doubt about that, but he was functioning at least. He'd managed to harvest a metric ton of those yarnballs. At least, that's what it seemed like. Then he'd helped to load up the carts and munched on a thoroughly boring meal of the strange pink lemonade flavored melon. His stomach was a bit unsettled from eating so much of the fruit's sweet pulp. Meat was scarce in the group, but the melons were plentiful. After taking care of his nightly business he'd attempted to find his sleeping bag. The temperature was already dropping and more than anything, he just wanted to climb into his sleeping bag hammock and get some rest. Everyone was talking about this long walk they'd have to take the next day.

He'd finally found his branch and sat down with his back to the trunk to unlace his boots. Once he got them off, he tied them securely to a branch much like he'd seen some others do who had theluxury of footwear. Since the previous night had been so chilly, Aaron decided to keep his coat on for now. It wouldn't be the most comfortable sleep but he was counting on exhaustion to take care of any resistance. Easing himself down the branch he reached for the edge of his hammock and pulled it toward himself. All of a sudden from the deeper shadows in the pit of his hammock there came a small engine rumble that had a very distinct warning sound to it.

( Ain't That A Kick In The Nuts? )

Who: Aaron and open to Jeannie
Where: The camp tree
When: Soon after all of the noise stops in the morning.
What: Dunno yet!
Rating: Maybe PG for language?

Aaron was exhausted by the time he had to get over his trembling fear and climb out of the tree in the morning. The strange violent laughter had refused to be muffled by his thin pillow or even his hands clapped over his ears. He didn't think he'd so much as slept a wink all night. Now that it was light out and quiet, he thought he'd go find a nice and peaceful bush to throw up in. To say that he was coping well with his arrival in this place was a little less than truthful. Aaron wasn't sure, but he thought he might be in some kind of low level shock. Walking wounded, maybe? Rowan hadn't been wrong though. His first night in the tree had convinced him of the alien nature of this place.

He was aware of other people climbing down the tree to survey the damage left by the lust-crazed laughers the night before. Thick gouges in the trees, puddles of blood and small hunks of flesh lay scattered intermittently around the flat forest floor under the canopy of the Climber tree. He barely noticed as he splashed through one such puddle on his way to a nearby stand of bushes. He relieved himself before making his way to the stream. After rinsing his mouth out and splashing water over his face he held very still as he observed a plump unfish propelling itself slowly along with the current. He'd never seen a creature like that before and his stunned mind couldn't stamp out his scientific interest. He watched it until it disappeared downstream. Once it was gone he half whispered a desperate and amused laugh. It was real. All of this was really happening.

Who: Aaron and Rowan
Where: Where the yarnballs live
When: Mid-morning
What: Gathering of things and information
Rating: Disney-esque

Rowan was gathering. Not food, unfortunately, because there wasn't much around, well, anywhere, but there were yarn balls aplenty, and they needed to be gathered because eventually someone was, literally, going to wear out the seat of their pants. And when that day came, she wanted to at least have thread for it. Thank God that Helena had shown her where they were before she went off and disappeared and didn't come back. But she had a leaf basket, and she hand her hands, and she was gathering yarn balls - as many as she could, though she was careful to leave two or three on each plant, so that they could propagate.

Aaron was still lost in a bit of a daze. He'd climbed the tree and found a spot to hang his hammock. The tree was thick with them, once he'd gotten up there. It was more than a little bit amazing. Once his sleeping bag was swinging securely and his pillow, jacket and hoodie were stuffed into the middle of it, he'd climbed back down to see if there was anyone else around here who could shed some additional light on their situation. He'd wandered further and further afield of the camp, talking to people who's names and places of origin went out of his head as fast as they told him.

Eventually though, he wandered right into a quiet clearing populated by one person and a sea of fluffy blue and yellow. It took his breath away, mostly because most colours registered as dull brown to Aaron Ackles. He'd been partially colourblind since birth and didn't see red or green. It was one of the reasons why, then living in civilization, he lived in Toronto where driving and traffic lights weren't such a big deal. In the midst of all of this colourful fluff was a lady with dark hair and a tank top which barely stretched over her protruding belly. "Um...Rowan?" Ok, so that name came back to him, maybe others would too.

( No Matter How Much You Wish You Were Somewhere Else )

Who: Aaron and Bazzer
When: Dawn on Day 18
Where: The Field
What: A New Arrival
Rating: PG? Maybe?

( Disappointment And Dawn )