Connor’s voice rouses you out of a surprisingly deep slumber, memories of a strange dream lost in the morning warmth. You blush when you see the ungodly amount of drool you left on your pillow. Shaking your head, you glance around to see if Connor is still looking at you, but he is nowhere to be seen. You know it was his voice that woke you up, so what gives here?

You emerge from your tent and squint in the brilliant dawn. Connor is down by the river, alone, rinsing an assortment of berries. He is singing an old song, one that you know but can’t quite remember.

The notes float over the water and into the trees. You remain motionless, enraptured by the man’s lilting words.

He sings of love and death, of power gained and lost, and you listen.

You step forward, crushing a branch beneath your foot with a loud snap. You freeze, annoyed by the cliché, as Connor’s head spins around, and you wave guiltily when his eyes meet yours. He flashes you a dazzling chipped grin and you can’t help but grin back. “Hey!” He greets you happily, “Good morning, sunshine.”

He pats the bank next to him and you curl up at his side, resting your chin on your knees. You stare at the sparkling water. The river rocks are cold against your body, soft shorts doing nothing to protect you, and it’s grounding. For some time, there is silence. The only sound is Connor’s soft breathing and the trickling of water. It’s a peaceful kind of silence, borne of friendship and intimacy, and it’s home.

“I’m usually the only one up this early,” He tells you conversationally as he finishes rinsing the berries, “What woke you up?”

Cheeks heating up, you mumble, “Your singing…” You shouldn’t be embarrassed, not after the last few days you’ve had with this man, but you still are.

He quirks an eyebrow at you but then shrugs, turning to face the water. There are no more berries to rinse and yet his hands are still submerged in the shimmering river. His shoulders are tense, like he’s nervous, but you can’t fathom why. He wipes his beard on his bicep.

A few gears turn in your head and you realize you’ve never seen him without gloves.

A soft sigh escapes his lips as he makes a decision, extracting his hands from the frigid water and curling them in his lap. They’re raw and bruised and ashy, with nails painted bright red. They look withered, as if he pulled them from the fires of Hephaestus a second too late.

You don’t let him catch you staring.

Ultimately, despite your best efforts, Connor notices your straying eyes. “I know, they’re all fucked up. I have a… thing. I pick at my hands constantly if I’m not wearing gloves. It’s compulsive so I…” He swallows. “So I keep the gloves on to make sure I don’t make it any worse. Dave usually keeps me from picking at ‘em but it’s hard when I’m alone, y’know?”

You nod. You don’t really know, but you can sympathize, and that’s what he needs right now. After a moment of companionable silence, you reach out and rest your hand on Connor’s shoulder. He smiles at you.

The moment stretches on, but not unbearably so, as you try to convey wordless support and acceptance of your friend. His twinkling hazel eyes make you think he’s picking up what you’re trying to put down. Consider yourself lucky that he understands.

“Connor? Where’d you go, mi vida?” Dave calls out from their tent, voice husky with sleep and grumpiness. The fact that Dave isn’t a morning person is strangely gratifying. It’s nice to know he’s not actually perfect, just almost perfect.

Connor meets your amused gaze and you nod—you won’t keep him here when Dave still hasn’t woken up completely. He grins and stands, calling out, “I’m here, hayete, relax.”

You have no idea what their foreign words mean but they make you feel warm inside nonetheless. You idly watch as Connor ducks into their tent before you decide it’s time to get ready for the day. Splashing cold water on your face, you clean the sleep from your eyes and the sweat from your skin.

Harley emerges from her tent, sleepily rubbing at her eyes. She smiles at you and you wave, asking if she would like you to do her hair again. She nods shyly.

Humming, you make quick work of her braids. Your fine motor movements are almost up to par, you note with a hint of satisfaction. You look at the sky and squint. Today is warm, almost unbearably so, and you frown. You’re gonna sweat a lot today.

Breakfast is deer jerky and assorted berries, again, but you don’t complain aloud. At least you’re being fed. Captain grumbles but also miraculously remains silent, reluctant to be petulant at the ass crack of dawn.

The beauty of these simple morning meals is that there are no dishes to be cleaned, so packing up camp is a relatively quick process.

Soon enough, you are hiking again, much to your chagrin.

The entire group seems extra tired today, which Connor seeks to remedy with songs and games. Eventually he gives up and falls silent, because I-Spy can only last so long when there’s nothing but rocks and trees and dirt.

Honestly, you don’t mind the silence. It gives your mind time to wander.

What time of year is it? Dave said something about it being summer, you think, and the intensity of the sun corroborates that. But why bother dividing the year into seasons, the way everyone did before? There might not be anyone else on the entire planet—surely you can get away with getting rid of the calendar.

The more you think about it the more you realize that you would probably divide time up by seasons anyway, so maybe the calendar is one thing you can hold on to. Humans have been using the same calendar for hundreds of years—they obviously got something right if it’s lasted that long. Specific numbered dates are obviously moot because no one knows when exactly they woke up, so summer is probably the closest you’re gonna get, and that’s okay.

It doesn’t matter much anyway. What need have you for date keeping?

A sharp gasp snaps you back into the present like ice water down your back. The others are all frozen in place, eyes wide, frantically scanning the area for what made Dave make that sound. There’s a slight bend in the path, so all you can see of the man is his hiking pack.

“Bear,” He hisses under his breath, and your heart stops.

Rivulets of sweat drip along your spine, and you watch on, horrified, as Connor creeps around the bend. You don’t know all that much about bears, but you know that thing can kill you if it was so inclined.

You hear only rustling and panting breaths. Harley grasps the back of your shirt, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. You dare not speak a word.

A million scenarios run through your head—Dave mauled and Connor eviscerated, leaving you alone in this world. How could the Fates do this now? How dare they cut the threads of such beautiful souls so suddenly?

Slowly, so slowly you aren’t sure if they’re actually moving, the two men shuffle back around the bend. The sight of them both intact drains tension from your lungs. Thank G-d.

Through a series of complicated gestures, Dave instructs everyone to climb up the boulders that make up the bend. When you do, you see the creature that stopped your heart curled up on the path. Its eyes are open but unseeing. You think it might be sick.

Porous rock faces scratch your palms as you crawl ever so gradually away from the beast, sweat beading on your forehead and soaking your eyebrows. You hold your breath to remain silent.

Minutes drag by where the only sound you hear is your heart pounding in your ears.

Eventually, the two men decide it’s safe to return to the path. You’re not so sure, but you figure they know better than you, so you follow nonetheless. Even back on the path, no one speaks—what can one say?

That could’ve ended so badly so quickly.

Dave and Connor are hiking slower than normal, shoulders pressed together and fingers occasionally brushing. They seem shaken. What would you do without them?

Fuck. They could’ve died. And on the last day of your journey, too.

Together, you all decide to skip lunch and make it to camp sooner, in the interest of getting as far away from the bear as possible. To stop your stomachs from growling, you munch away on what tastes like homemade granola—you don’t know where they were hiding this granola but it’s fucking delicious.

You spend way more time than you’d like to admit trying to figure out what makes the granola so damn tasty. It tastes vaguely of allspice but more subtle, almost floral or fruity. It’s killing you.

“What’s in this granola? It’s amazing. I doubt it’s allspice but it kinda tastes like that, whatever spices you used are A1,” You ask, curiosity outweighing shyness, lightly tapping Connor’s shoulder to get his attention.

He grins, “Right? Me and Sana found this weird bush near the river one day and she thought she recognized it, so we dried out the little berry things and ground them up and it ended up being delicious. Dave was so mad because it could’ve been poisonous but it ended up being fine. We call it ‘spicebush’, which admittedly isn’t very creative, but I don’t think it matters all that much.”

You tell him you’re glad they found the “weird bush” and he agrees emphatically, joking that if it was poisonous he would’ve at least died happy. The two of you laugh as you continue along the path. Dave looks less than amused, trailing behind the two of you with a sour expression on his face.

Connor pointedly ignores Dave’s displeasure but you can’t, “What’s your problem, Dave?”

“Death isn’t funny. He knows better.”

Yikes. Looks like you hit a sore spot. You grimace at Connor who rolls his eyes without turning around to face his partner. This seems like an argument that has happened before, and you’d rather not get involved.

Tense silence settles over the group, with both Dave and Connor refusing to give an inch. Captain is lingering near Dave, glaring daggers at Connor, who glares right back. You and Harley share a look of mutual awkwardness, trapped between two stubborn men in a meaningless fight.

Does this happen often?

Every second feels like an hour. The group rounds every corner and climbs every hill without words, and every step is a nail in the coffin of your comfort and feelings of familial affection.

How the hell are you supposed to deal with this for the rest of your life? You can’t even take it for twenty whole minutes.

A hefty sigh escapes Connor’s body and you look at him, mildly startled by the sudden sound. “Dave,” He speaks softly, sweetly, and you hear Dave huff in response. “You guys go on ahead, let me talk to Dave alone.”

You raise an eyebrow but nod, gesturing for Harley and Captain to follow you further down the path. They follow obediently, which makes sense for Harley but makes you suspicious of Captain. You were sure they’d fight to be by Dave’s side. You walk until you are around a bend, a boulder separating you three from the two men.

Captain’s wordless compliance makes sense when they suggest that the three of you climb over the boulder to eavesdrop. You say no, of course, but Harley whips out puppy dog eyes and you break. “Fine, okay, but if they see us, it’s your fault, Captain.”

“They would know it was me anyway, dumbshit.”

That’s true.

Quietly, if not quite so gracefully, the three of you scale the rocks and sneak up on Dave and Connor. The two are staring at each other with their arms crossed.

“Dave.”

Dave remains silent.

“David.”

A twitching eyebrow is the only response.

“David Roberto Avilla, you stubborn man. I was kidding! You know that!”

“And you know that it bothers me! How many times do we have to have this talk, mi amor? Why can’t you just stop sayin’ shit like that?”

Connor wrings his hands, “It just comes out, I can’t help it! I try not to do it but sometimes it slips out. I…

“I’m sorry, albi. I shouldn’t have said that. I know it bothers you. I’ll try to do better in the future, but cut me a little slack, okay? It’s a hard thing to change, but I’ll change it,” Connor’s voice quivers and you have to look away. His passion runs deep.

Dave’s eyes crinkle and he smiles, stepping forward to envelop the other man in a hug, “I appreciate you tryin’. That’s all I ask from you.”

You avert your eyes again when Connor tightens the hug, deciding to give the men some respect and leave them the hell alone. You scuttle off the boulder and Harley follows suit. Captain stays glued to their spot, eyes trained on the two men like a hawk watches a mouse, and you roll your eyes.

As it turns out, you got out of dodge just in time.

“CAPTAIN!” Connor’s voice echoes through the mountains, “FUCK OFF!”

The hike is awkward after that, to say the least. Connor is fuming at the head of the group, arms crossed and back hunched, stomping along the path faster than usual. You get why he’s mad but you really want him to slow his roll a little bit, you can’t keep up with his long strides.

Captain seems equally put off, lagging at the back of the procession, moving frustratingly slow in what you suspect is an effort to piss off everybody even more. They have a bitter expression on their face as they sluggishly prowl along the trail.

Harley looks extremely uncomfortable, grabbing at the hem of her shirt and avoiding eye contact with anybody. You figure the tension is really getting to her—it’s almost suffocating.

You stay next to her to offer silent support. She eventually relaxes and releases her now-crumpled shirt, gently bumping shoulders with you in silent acknowledgement. Extending a hand, you offer it to her, and she grasps it gratefully.

The two of you walk hand-in-hand for some time. It’s sweet and calming, and you can tell that it’s putting Harley’s mind at ease. The others may be fighting but she still has you.

Dave is hovering near Connor, not speaking, as if waiting for an opening. He says nothing as Connor rubs violently at his gloved hands—perhaps he’s being lenient because Connor has every right to be upset. You can almost see Connor’s hands bleeding through the gray fabric.

When Connor releases a heavy sigh and unfolds his arms, Dave swoops in.

“Why don’t we take a break, hmn?” The doctor hums, sidling up to Connor and sliding an arm around his lower back. Dave gets a reluctant nod in return but that’s all he really needs. He grabs Connor’s hand and drags him away from the group to take refuge behind an idle elm, ducking their heads together.

You are just close enough to hear the two whispering to one another.

“David…” Growls Connor, seemingly at his wit’s end, “Can’t we just leave that one behind?”

You assume he means Captain and you can’t really blame him.

Dave chuckles softly, affectionately, “No, Con, we can’t. You and I both know you’re being dramatic. What’s your problem?”

“They’re just… Ugh! So annoying! They cling onto you like a lost goddamn toddler, it’s ridiculous,” Connor huffs, and you’re inclined to agree with him, honestly. Captain is just a little too much.

“I know that they bother you but we can’t just abandon them. I know you, and I know you wouldn’t leave them alone out here. Connor,” You hear shuffling but can’t see what’s happening, “Tranquilo. You usually don’t get this pissed about anythin’ so I’m sure it’ll pass.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will. Everyone’s weird right after they wake up, remember? Just give Cap some time and they’ll come around.”

You can hear the smile in Connor’s voice when he says, “Okay, okay, but they’re your problem until then.” There is silence beyond the slight rustling of clothing and you wonder what they’re up to back there, but before you know it the two men return to their three wards. Captain looks livid.

Dave informs the three of you that you’ll reach camp within the next few hours. You hang onto that thought like a buoy to keep you afloat as you trudge down the dirt trail, body begging for a break. ‘We’re almost there!’ You keep telling yourself, and your carcass can take another step, desperate to get to the end.

The tension from earlier is miraculously gone, and you silently thank Dave for that. Connor is relaxed, joking loudly and laughing freely once again, which is a welcome change.

Captain seems about the same but they don’t have the same disproportionately large effect on morale that Connor does, so you barely notice. You think that maybe you should feel bad about that.

The doctor is quite pleased with himself, judging by the smug smirk on his face. It looks… out of place on such a sweet man. You don’t judge him for it, though—you’d be smug too if you diffused Connor that quickly.

Honestly, you think it’s a little unfair of you to think of Connor as a bomb. He had every right to be angry, and he never took his anger out on anybody, so maybe you should rethink the situation. He had no real intent to abandon Captain, and you know that. Plus, Captain knew better and should’ve apologized. They seem to act solely based on what will piss Connor off the most.

Of course, you did that same thing as Cap, so keep that in mind. You just didn’t get caught.

Maybe you deserved to be caught, same as them.

Guilt weighs your gaze down and you stare at your feet as you hike. You knew better than to eavesdrop, you really did, so perhaps next time you should endeavor to be less easily swayed. It was admittedly surprising that Harley was so on board with Captain’s idea, but she does seem to have a curious streak a mile long.

Shaking your head, you try not to dwell on the past. You have the rest of your life ahead of you—feeling guilty about something that’s already been resolved will do you no good.

You, of course, still feel guilty, but that’s just what kind of person you are.

Keeping an eye on Connor, it becomes clear that he really is over what happened. He’s singing again, obviously making up the words as he goes, clapping out a staggering beat. Harley still can’t speak but she sure can clap, excitedly matching Connor’s muffled rhythm with her own echoing notes.

Time heals all wounds, as they say, and it proves true as you hike along the dirt trail. Eventually, your guilt dissipates in the breeze. You move lazily, mirroring the nonchalance of the gods upon Olympus. You wonder how we ever came to worship such pitiful beings.

Fear is the answer to that, you suppose. There is nothing scarier than an all-powerful being with a penchant for being petty. Tis better to idolize and be ignored than to never acknowledge and be punished.

Dave, realizing everyone got too caught up in Connor’s performance, requests a break. You were too distracted to notice but you’re drenched with sweat and exhausted as all hell.

He doesn’t sit, though, and actually wanders a little bit farther along the path. He returns with a grin on his face and plops down next to Connor. You sprawl out on a shaded patch of grass, folding your arms behind your head.

The mountain looms in your peripheral vision, and you take a deep breath, lungs siphoning precious oxygen from the crisp, natural air. You could get used to this. You think life may have some meaning, as you sit there and bask in the sun, surrounded by faraway bird calls and the scent of the earth. The gods don’t notice your epiphany, too busy lounging apathetically on the mountaintops.

The doctor announces that the camp is only 10 minutes away, and you and Harley both gasp excitedly while Captain inexplicably continues to pout. Silence rolls down the mountains and you draw in a small breath.

When hiking resumes the entire group seems to be moving in slow motion, limbs swimming through molasses as distant birds sing. Your heartbeat throbs beneath your skin, blood surging through your veins, and you can feel your pulse in your head. What comes next? What will you find at the bottom of the mountain? What will the gods think, sneering down at you from the heights of Olympus?

Wait. You heard birds, didn’t you? “Hey Dave,” You call out to your savior, “What happened to the animals? I could’ve sworn I heard some birds.”

The doctor slows his pace and you jog up to match his strides. A warm smile settles on his face and burns your cheeks. “You’re pretty observant, Flash! I didn’t think twice about those bird calls, but yeah, those are the first I’ve heard in a long time. I thought all the small stuff was killed. I’ve seen some deer n’ other large mammals but no birds, so this is promisin’. Maybe Earth has a fightin’ chance after all.”

His words make you grin and hum to yourself. The birds continue their eulogy and every note makes your heart swell. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.