"How long are you going to hold onto me like that?" I ask, shifting uncomfortably as we near Theodore's tree house.
"Until we need to get off," she responds, clutching tighter, as if daring me to complain again.
We've been riding through the forest for a while, deciding to avoid the watchtower which the Colonel's men occupied. The canopy above breaks here and there, letting in streaks of pale sunlight that flicker over us as we pass.
The rhythmic thud of hooves against the earth lulls me into my thoughts.
"Hey," I say, peering through the forest. "Did Whiskey ever mention some sort of meeting with the Colonel?"
"A meeting?" She asks.
"Yeah, I remember some of the Colonel's goons talking about it but I forgot to bring up to Whiskey." I respond, explaining my thoughts.
"Mmm. No." She responds. "I don't remember him saying anything important like that."
"Huh." I respond, continuing to think about it.
"Well, apparently the Colonel and Whiskey are supposed to meet in a few days. Probably to discuss peace or how to get off this island." I continue.
"Apparently they are supposed to meet up north in some sort of barn. That's where I'm assuming they found horses like this one."
"Interesting." She responds
"We should bring it up and ask what happened when we regroup with them."
I nod. It's not like we can go back and ask them now.
The horse keeps its steady pace, but the forest feels heavier now, each shadow thick with unspoken answers.
"My wife wouldn't like the way your touching me."
Jenny's eyes furrow before releasing her grip a little.
"Don't get me wrong, I don't like you in that way." She says offendedly. "Plus, I'm sure she would understand if she was placed onto a beast like this."
I chuckle.
"My wife actually seemed to like horses."
"Really?"
"Mhm. I actually gave her one as a wedding gift."
"A wedding gift?"
"Yup."
I can feel her eyes begin to pierce into me as the gears in her head begin to move.
"You must have come from a rich family if your able to just give away a horse."
I chuckle awkwardly, my heart beating faster as I think of some excuse.
"We were certainly well off before getting drafted. My dad had a great job high up in the government but was accused of corruption." I say, trying for it to seem like I was some part of a rich politicians family.
"After that, we were unable to pay off the government and I was forced onto the battlefield." I say, releasing a helpless chuckle.
I can feel the pressure of her gaze wearing off. I can only hope that she buys my excuse.
"Your making me feel bad for the filthy rich." She responds with a light chuckle. "I suppose war tears apart all families, even the upper class."
I stay quiet. Part of me feels a little offended, the other kind of agreeing with her. I lost my father to war, and am forced into abandoning the rest of my family due to the greedy nature of humanity.
"Can you hand me my map?" I ask, deciding not to respond to her words.
"Sure." She says, zipping open my backpack and rummaging inside. I can hear her moving aside small metal cans and other items, finally hearing a soft crinkle as she hands me my map.
"Seems like we're almost there," I respond, handing her back the map.
She places it back in my bag and zips it up, holding onto my waist once again.
It doesn't take long before I spot familiar dangling lights, tall tree's, and pointy rocks. We were here.
Continuing through the forest, it doesn't take us long to reach the base of the treehouse. The sight brings both relief and unease.
Below, I can see that Zane, Hank, Elias, and the rest of them had made a little progress on the huts they were working on before. Wooden frames half-finished, tools scattered in the dirt, a fire pit with blackened ashes. It seems like they probably made it back safely from the raid.
But the longer I stare, the stranger it feels.
As the horse trots forward, I notice that the rope ladder already dangles down from the treehouse above, swaying slightly in the breeze.
"How strange…" I mutter under my breath.
"What?" Jenny asks, raising an eyebrow.
My eyes narrow, searching the shadows of the huts and the platforms above for any sign of movement. No voices. No laughter. No footsteps. Just quiet.
"Where is everyone?"
Jenny raises an eyebrow as I dismount, picking her up from the waist and placing her down next to me.
"You have no need to pick me off the horse, I'm not that small!" She protests.
"Shhh" I hiss.
The rope ladder creaks as I pull myself up, each step feeling heavier than the last. Jenny follows close behind, her breath steady but uneasy, the ropes swaying beneath our combined weight.
I reach the platform first, hauling myself over the edge. The boards are warm from the fading sunlight, shadows pooling in the corners of the treehouse. I crouch low, scanning. Something feels off.
Jenny clambers up beside me, brushing dust from her hands. That's when it hits me-a faint tang in the air. Not rot, not yet, but metallic, sharp. The smell of blood.
Turning around, I finally see it. Against the wall, a skinny figure sits slumped awkwardly. His head drops to the side, mouth slightly open, eyes still glassy.
"Yikes." Jenny mumbles, surprised by the sight.
I step closer despite the tightening in my chest. His shirt is torn open, the fabric dark and soaked through. The center of his stomach is a mangled ruin, blasted wide by the unmistakable spread of a shotgun blast. Blood still pools beneath him, not yet fully dried, glistening faintly in the fractured sunlight seeping through the boards.
He hadn't been dead long.
"Poor Hank…"