A Candle in the Dark

She didn’t know what had possessed her to ask Ezra to come on a walk with her. The conversation should’ve ended when he’d told her he was her friend, but she’d just had to go and continue it. It wasn’t that she minded; Astrid had forgotten how to talk to another person. With Maggie it was easy, because she filled the silence with endless stories. Even Eden always had something to say.

But when she and Ezra went into the forest, they fell into silence. It was similar to their walk back to the lake. Neither having anything to say, but not uncomfortable with it either. Just knowing that Ezra was walking next to her, machete loose in one of his hands and the other swinging ever so close to her own, was enough.

Monroe was a few paces ahead of them, stopping at almost every tree to inspect it with a curiosity that Astrid would never understand. A fly buzzed past the dog’s head and she snapped at it. Next to Astrid, Ezra let out a chuckle.

“Did you have a dog? Y’know, before.” she asked, seeing the opportunity.

There was a somber moment before he replied. Ezra rubbed the back of his neck and looked at her while he spoke. “Yeah, um, a pug. Not what you were expecting to hear, probably, but he was what held the family together.”

“What was his name?”

“Godric.”

Astrid furrowed her eyebrows. “What kind of a name is that? Scottish or something?”

He laughed. “It’s from Harry Potter. Godric Griffindor.”

It had been so long since she thought about something like that, that despite having read the series, Astrid hadn’t recognized the name. “I read those books as a kid, I guess I should’ve remembered that.”

“The names of the founding members of Hogwarts aren’t exactly on the top of everyone’s minds nowadays. It’s alright.” He was smiling; a crooked smile that made his eyes crinkle.

“It’s kind of nice, though, thinking about it again. I wish we could all get on that train and get away from this world.”

He stared at her with a smile on his face, but a softer one than before. “Our mini library has a copy of The Prisoner of Azkaban, if you’re interested.”

“I think I’ll be alright.”

But his expression had gone to one of someone who was a lover of books. “There’s also Nicholas Nickelby, The Catcher in the Rye, Troilius and Cressida and a couple more by Shakespeare, The Da Vinci Code, and three Stephen King novels.”

“Do you read a lot?”

Ezra nodded. “I was studying English literature before all this shit happened.” he said, gesturing at the space around them. “What about you? What were you doing before?”

“My life was boring, to be completely honest. I worked at an animal shelter — the same one I adopted Monroe from — and on weekends my dad and I would go camping.”

“Did he teach you to shoot?”

“We would go hunting a few times a month. This knife,” she said, pulling it out of the sheath and handing it to Ezra. “was his. He gave it to me the last time I saw him.”

With careful fingers, Ezra examined the blade. “It looks old. Family heirloom?”

“It was my granddad’s.” Astrid answered with a nod. “I guess it ends with me.”

He handed back the knife, sticking his now-free hand in his pocket. “Just because there’s things trying to kill us every ten minutes doesn’t mean you can’t have a life.”

“A lot of stuff has been pushed out of my mind, I haven’t even considered the future. It’s kind of scary, when you think about it. What kid wants to grow up in this world?”

Ezra shrugged. “If they’ve got people who love them, then anyone can be happy.”

“That’s optimistic. I don’t know if I could think like that.”

“You can’t let this reality ruin who you are, Astrid. Then the monsters win.” Ezra told her, his voice somber.