You're Hoping For A Taste

We only react when the car is completely out of sight. I turn around in Kellin's arms and bury my face in his neck. He tightens his arms around me and his warmth is all I need right now. There are tears burning in my throat, and it feels sore both from my need to cry and the pressure with which the man had locked his arm round my neck.

“You okay?” Kellin asks, his voice quiet, sombre.

I lift my face from his neck and pull away, running a hand through my tangled hair. Tears rise in my eyes at just the thought of what I'm about to say. “How are we meant to get to the house now?”

For once Kellin seems to be the calmer one. I feel like our only shot at safety is slipping between our fingers like sand. The hourglass is running low. Kellin glances up the road. There's no life out here except for us, the birds and the trees.

“Gabe and Jesse will realise something's happened when we don't answer them or show up at the house. They'll come back for us. If we stick to the road they should find us, and we can just start walking to the house now anyway,” Kellin says. He looks dejected, but not defeated. And, just like that, it seems like my anger at him is receding. I don't have time to worry about Kellin's feelings for me or mine for him, the only thing that matters is our survival.

I nod, probably a little too enthusiastically, but a plan is what I need to keep me going.

Kellin watches me for a few seconds, his brow furrowed. His arms hang limply at his sides, but his eyes look full of life.

“What?” I ask, returning his gaze.

He shakes his head and looks away. “Nothing, doesn't matter. Let's just start walking.”

The only sounds we have to keep us company are the birds and the wind and the scuffing of our feet. We walk side by side on the long stretch of road, the expanse of forest rolling out on either side of us. Sometimes our shoulders brush against each other.

“We're not gonna get to the house before nightfall are we,” I say, and it's not a question.

Kellin snorts with laughter. I look at him but he's staring ahead, struggling to suppress a smile. He bites his tongue, the tip of it sticking from between his lips as though he's trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What?” I ask, unable to stop a smile of my own.

“Nightfall,” he repeats, laughing. “What century are you from? This isn't Lord of the Rings.”

“Well it certainly feels like it,” I retort. “Ambushes in the night, being separated from the fellowship-”

Kellin laughs louder, throwing his head back. “I don't think Gabe and Jesse are really qualified to be members of the fellowship.”

I shrug, smiling. “I'm sure they'd say the same about you.”

“Hey!” Kellin protests, pushing me. “I'm the Aragorn of this shit.”

“Who am I then?”

“Gimli.”

I fix Kellin with a glare, but he only grins. “So you're the hunky, perfectly dishevelled future king and I'm the fat, bearded dwarf.”

“Sounds about right.”

We don't see any cars, any people, any Walkers, as we follow the road deeper into the forest. The ground beneath our feet begins to slope upwards and the walk becomes tougher. Our limbs are tired, our feet raw, and our stomachs are rumbling like the sky overhead. Thick, black clouds have been groping in from the west. Once they completely blanket the sky and the rain begins in earnest, our good mood is swept away in the torrent. We move into the forest just beside the road for a little more cover, but it only stops the worst of the rain from lashing our faces. The world around us descends into darkness, illuminated by cracks of lightning, and I'm terrified that in the next flash all I'll see are figures in the distance, lurching towards us. My heart is beating frantically and I don't think I'll be able to keep this up. Adrenaline is keeping me going, but soon that will wear out and I'll discover that fear has completely drained me of energy.

“There's no point,” I say over the rain and the thunder and the lightning. “Let's just stay here for the night.”

Kellin looks at me. His hood is up and the hair that has escaped from it is soaked, sticking to his forehead and cheeks. He looks exhausted, but he finds the energy to nod. “Alright,” he says, then he takes my hand, his palm slick with rainwater, and adds, “Come on, we can't take shelter here.”

He feels so cold, not warm and alive like usual, as he drags me a few yards deeper into the trees. I see what he's heading for: a tall tree, the base of its trunk enclosed by a tall patch of undergrowth.

Kellin starts to gently push it aside a little when he snatches his hand back, yelping, “Ow!” He sucks on his finger and says, “It's a little spiky.”

“Oh well,” I reply, “it should keep us a bit drier.”

I help Kellin move the undergrowth aside, avoiding the thorns as best we can, to make a hole we can crawl through to the tree trunk. He gestures for me to go first, and I duck as low as I can, not really wanting to go on my hands and knees in the mud. The thorns and leaves catch in my hair as I move through to press myself against the trunk. Kellin follows, pulling the branches closed a little behind us. The undergrowth extends above our heads and it feels like a secret little haven. It's not exactly dry, but it's drier than the rest of the forest.

“Well this is cosy,” I comment, and Kellin chuckles, smiling at me.

“It sure is,” he says, glancing around us, “but at least we're concealed.”

A shiver rockets up my spine. Now that we're not moving I'm already beginning to get cold. Kellin notices and he wraps an arm around me, pulling me closer. We sit side by side, our knees tucked to our chests, and I lean my head on his shoulder and he rests his head on top of mine. I tell myself we're just exchanging body heat, just trying to survive, but I don't just feel close to Kellin in the sense that we're touching. I'm aware of his breath tickling the top of my head, his fingers curled around my waist. I feel so close to him, and I wonder if he feels the same way too, or if this is just exchanging body heat to him.

Something catches my eye. The sleeve of Kellin's jacket has ridden up a little on his other arm where it rests on his knees, and even in the dim light I can see the marks swirled on his bare skin, darker than the night itself.

“Do you have tattoos?” I ask, reaching out to push his sleeve further up his arm.

“Hmm?” He glances down at my hand. “Oh, yeah, didn't you know?”

“Nope,” I reply. “I've never seen you without your jacket on, actually.”

Kellin smiles, lifting his head from mine as he holds his arm out for me to roll up his sleeve. As I push the material up his arm more of the black markings are revealed. It's hard to make them out in the lack of light, but they look beautiful.

“I'd never have the guts to get sleeves done,” I say absently, my voice quiet. I trace my fingertip along the music note near his elbow.

And that's when we both hear it, over the sound of the rain and the thunder and the lightning. A low, guttural groan.

My eyes meet Kellin's, wide and alert, and I feel my fingers wrap around his arm.

We're not alone.