Dozens of eyes stared out at Halima from the transparent digital screen that had been shoved in front of her face. Vibrant blues, murky greens, light browns, and blacks. There were plenty more, all neatly categorized into their own little tabs. She stretched out a hesitant hand, her plain white, plastic fingers tapping the screen for more blue eyes.

    The male behind the counter grunted. “Where’s yer skin? Don’t tell me yer one of those ‘bots that’s on strike or somethin’. I don’t sell to those folks.” His voice had an underlying buzz of static that might’ve been linked to how slow he spoke.

    “No,” she said absently, “I’m not on strike, I just-- today’s my renewal day. The skin was starting to shred off my fingers.”

    “Ooh,” the counter attendant hummed. “Tha’s not good.”

    “Mhm,” Halima agreed. She leaned closer to the screen floating above the counter to get a better look at an example pair of bright, azure blue eyes. “Do you really have all of these in stock?”

    “Wha?” The attendant’s laugh was a more pronounced version of his voice’s static background, mixed with the sort of canned laughter one would hear on the evening programs. “You think I have tha’ kind of money? Nah kiddo, we only do retouching here.”

    “Right,” she answered stiffly. She may have been modeled to look young, but that didn’t mean she had been made yesterday, Halima thought bitterly. She knew though, that her younger self would have just walked out of the shop at that kind of comment, but that would only make her seem even more immature if she were to do it now. It was what Halima had come for, anway-- just a small bit of retouching for the color of her eyes. They had started to fade out, and she probably wouldn’t have bothered to even get them retouched if she knew the gray wasn’t going to look disgusting.  Her eyes refocused on the screen, then slid away briefly along the length of the counter to her left.

    Despite being a small, locally-owned business it seemed to be popular; there were three more stations with screens and attendants set up to her left, and two other stations along the right side of the counter. Two of the stations at Halima’s left were occupied, and as she watched an android with orange, slick backed hair was led away through a door that likely led to the where the retouching equipment was.

    “Wha’ll it be, then?” The attendant for Halima prompted, joints clicking as he lifted his arms, gears whirring as he rubbed his palms together.

    Halima flicked her attention back to her screen and gripped the edge of it briefly, spinning it around to face the attendant. “I’ll have an azure blue retouching, both eyes.”

    “Good, good! Just swipe yer card then and we’ll be good to go!”

    Halima nodded smoothly, lifting her hands to press a finger on either side of a space just below where her collarbone design was. There was a small, plastic- sounding pop before a transparent card slid from a slit in her body. A similar slit was cut from her skin, creating less hassle in retrieving her identification card. Halima pulled the card out completely, barely glancing over the blue, faintly glowing markings etched into it before she flipped it in her fingers and swiped it horizontally through the bottom of the screen. The card passed effortlessly through, the first simple step of proving the card’s authenticity. In the short few seconds of the swipe, the card’s markings were lit up, read, and flashed a bright green-- one that paled Halima’s current hair color --before reverting to the original blue.

    “Good, good,” hummed the attendant, tugging slightly to lift the screen from its floating position. He held it flat on his palms, glancing across it as Halima fitted her card back into its slot. “Well, Halima Heart, if ye’d follow me this way…” The attendant winked with one of its default, glowing white eyes before turning to walk alongside the counter, leading the way through the door Halima had noted before.

    There was a surprising amount of retouching stations, with the back room split into ten more small rooms. The little shop had a lot more to its name than Halima had thought. She was led along to one of them, though was unable to stop herself in peeking through the doorway of another room beforehand.

    A frizzy-haired brunette was magnetically fastened into the customary standing compartment, a faint blue glow shining around her from the backlight of the compartment. An attendant was seated on a high stool, cluttered machinery standing on either side and dipping down in front of the the compartment like a pair of metal wings. There were trays of tools clipped to the framework, as well as dozens upon dozens of vials, filled to the brim with colored solutions. Halima was in silent awe, despite the amount of times she had been to a retouching shop before-- in the past month, even. She noted that there were extra bulbs hanging from the framework, accompanied by even more tools, and wondered if the shop had the technology for adjusting the natural glow and lights of all android’s eyes; or if they even offered that service.

    Perhaps her attendant had finally realized that Halima was no longer following him, because he was suddenly at her side again, lips twisted in a half smile of impatience.

    “I’ve got a job to do, Miss Heart, and tha’d be a right shame if ye didn’t get yer retouching, wouldn’t it?” The attendant prompted her, turning to walk off again. He narrowed his eyes over his shoulder at her, and Halima finally turned to follow. She absently pulled the sleeve of her black, slightly-transparent blouse up from where it had slipped down her shoulder, poking briefly at the straps of the gray tank top underneath.

    Halima took her time in settling into the magnetic compartment, the attendant already set up with the machinery by the time she was completely ready. The last thing she saw before she allowed herself to enter sleep mode was the attendant leaning forward, eyes glimmering a lasting image as Halima’s vision faded to black.

+  +  +

    Halima paused to lean in towards a large glass front of a store, peering more so at her reflection than the items displayed. Bright azure blue eyes stared back at her, fresh and gleaming. The skin of her face had started to fade to a sickly pale, which Halima didn’t necessarily mind, but she might as well freshen it up when she got new skin for her hands. Halima had put on black gloves, ones that stretched halfway up her forearms, before she had gone out for the day in order to the avoid stares and accusing looks. Of course that shop attendant had noticed when she pulled a glove off, but that couldn’t exactly be helped.

    Halima blinked once. Her focus skimmed across her pale, lime-green hair, piled up into a loose bun at the crown of her head, and her darker-green toned brows. Maybe it was due time to change her hair color, too. She pulled up at her blouse again, eyes finally going through the glass to observe the inside of the store. Different designs of arms, hands, and fingers were displayed upon cushions and stands; fingers for the artisan model, arms for the worker model, hands for the multi-model, and plenty more models that Halima hadn’t even realized existed. Expensive too, she noted with raised eyebrows as she glanced over the price cards hanging on strings from the fingers and wrists of the displays. Halima snapped her longing gaze away from the artisan model displays, reminding herself firmly that she had somewhere more important to be.

    Halima had been recommended a new skin store to try, by one of her work friends, though honestly hadn’t been expecting it to be so large. She had to open her display menu, checking the message her friend had sent to make sure she had gotten the name right. Sure enough… Halima straightened resolutely, gazing across the large windows and the posters, banners, and colors blaring out from the storefront, before she finally took a step forward to enter the building. Green lights flashed above the glass doors before they slid open, and then closed behind her. A female android was immediately in front of Halima with a sugary smile, skin tinted fuschia and her bright pink hair up tightly in a bun, ribbons of hair popping out and bouncing as the android tilted her head in a prompting fashion.

    “Welcome to Spectrum Shading! How may I help you today?”

    Halima couldn’t think of anything to say right away, much too bombarded with information. The android’s name plate, pinned just below the collar of her rainbow gradient work uniform, read ‘Amethyst.’

    “I-I’ve just come for a color touch-up,” Halima managed, voice giving a prominent electronic tremor at her stammer.

    Amethyst nodded wisely, and Halima didn’t think it possible, but she smiled ever brighter though her lips never parted. “Lovely! If you could follow me this way, then.” She twirled on heel, pink curls swinging as she started away across the store.

    Halima hurried to follow, careful to keep an eye on the quick-walking Amethyst as she observed her surroundings for the first time.

    The number one thing that Halima noticed was the blaring music; she was surprised that she had even managed to hear Amethyst over the noise. It was mostly just noise, too, disco synths and complicated electronic mixes that barely passed for actual music. Focusing on the physical, she saw there were dozens of counters set up all across the store, with models displaying skins. Some models were only torso, some only waist and below, some for just hands and feet, and most were full body. One wall of the store was completely filled with color cards, literally every color imaginable-- Halima hadn’t even heard of half of the labels she managed to read. The androids browsing the shop selections ranged many of the colors themselves, sporting equally wild hairstyles. Halima had the sudden urge to turn right around and dash back out the way she had come, feeling way too far in over her head.

    “What’s your name, Miss…?” Amethyst called over the noise and babble of the other shoppers, turning slightly to glance over her shoulder at Halima.

    Halima grudgingly decided that she was too far in to go back, and hopped forward to catch up to the other android. “Halima Heart,” she finished, politely adding, “And you are, Amethyst…?” Halima noticed Amethyst glancing down towards her nametag and couldn’t help but smile slightly.

    “You’ve a pretty name, Miss Heart,” was all Amethyst said before she stopped walking long enough to push open a door at the end of the store. She held it for Hamila, who wiped her expression clean and moved quickly through. The door led to a whitewashed hallway, with an intersection that lead away both to the left and the right. It went back further as well, with what looked to be three doors at spaced intervals.

    Amethyst paused again to pluck some sort of fabric, bright green, off of a hook nearby before ushering Hamila forward and down the left hallway. It wasn’t long before Amethyst stopped at another door, pressing her hand briefly against the lock-pad. There was an audible click and a green flash at the top of the pad, queuing Amethyst to remove her hand and pull down on the door handle, the door swinging inward. She made her way through first, Halima moving to follow when she heard the click of another door. She waited in the doorway, leaned back slightly to watch as a rainbow vested worker exited, holding the door open for a dark-skinned android. Halima let out a slow murmur in wonderment at realizing that the android’s skin was flecked with white, and that the specks glowed like stars. Halima tore her gaze away quickly as the two androids moved to walk in Halima’s direction down the corridor. She moved through the door Amethyst was still holding, carefully pretending she didn’t see the other female’s amused expression.

    Amethyst closed the door while tossing Halima the bright green cloth. Halima fumbled with it before catching it. Now that she was able to look at it properly she realized it was simply the customary gown that one was required to change into at any skin store.

    “I’m going to have to ask you to take off your clothes before we begin,” Amethyst continued without room for Hamila to interject, “What was the color you wanted again?” She leaned against the door expectantly, taking a brief moment to inspect her fingers.

    “Uh.” Halima blinked once, a little surprised by her attendant’s curt attitude. She  let the gown drop to the floor before beginning to remove her blouse. “Just, a color freshening,” Halima started, thinking quickly back the starry android she had seen in the hall, “And a golden undertone.” Halima’s gaze slipped down to her hands; she had almost forgotten the main reason for going out shopping.

    Amethyst must’ve noticed. “We’ll get you skin for your hands first,” she said, not nearly as unkind as before.

    With dirt caked under his fingernails and staining the skin of his fingers, Lawrie Pryce dug for his life.

    He had absolutely no idea why, but he knew that if he could just manage to break through, finish the tunnel through the dirt, he'd be safe. Breath shallow with exertion and sweat dripping into his eyes, Lawrie's fingers were just about skinned and bleeding. A sob started in his throat though was cut abruptly short as the dirt before his fingers gave. Lawrie stilled, then shoved his hand forward hurriedly, desperately hoping…

    Bright, pure white light burst through the cracks in the dirt, before focusing as one single beam through the hole that Lawrie had dug out. He stared in amazement, relief flooding his fear. His high spirits soared as he noticed the ring of bright azure blue around the white and prayed it was the sky; surely this was the way out.

    An ice cold grip was suddenly at his ankles, the pressure building as bile rose in his throat, eyes thrown wide. Lawrie's fingers scrambled frantically at the dirt. No no no, I'm almost there…!

    With a sudden tug Lawrie was pulled backwards, his hands bouncing helplessly off the bottom of the tunnel despite how he tried to get a handhold in the dirt. A final tug and Lawrie was dragged, screaming, into the blackness.
 

    Lawrie woke in a cold sweat, breathing labored and pulse racing. He rolled over immediately, gagging, before emptying his stomach of its meager amount of food onto the stone floor, the sound then sending him dry heaving.

    “Who's throwing up now…?” Came a sleepy call, echoing slightly from across the dark room.

    “Ugh, keep it down,” someone else grumbled.

    “Lawrie?” This voice was much closer to him. “Hey, Pryce… Oh, jeez.”

    Lawrie took a shuddering breath, and despite how tightly closed his eyes were tears leaked through his lashes and spilled down his cheeks. His head reeled, his throat burned and of course the taste in his mouth…  Lawrie almost gagged again.

    There was a hand at his back then, rubbing slow circles. Their fingers pressed down hard after a moment, pushing at Lawrie's tight shoulders.

    “You're okay man,” they soothed, and Lawrie instantly recognized the voice as Pauloc, one of his good few friends among the group. Lawrie's tense stature eased slightly.

    “Lawrie, can you sit up?” Came another voice, this one belonging to his friend Mirka.

    Lawrie forced his eyes to open, vision a little blurry at first as tears were still trailing down his face. His eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness, Mirka coming to form bit by bit. There was a sudden scrape across the stone and a match flared, illuminating Mirka struggling to light a stub of a candle. She shook the match out as the wick finally took to light, setting both the candle and the match on the ground next to her. Lawrie slowly realized she was staring at him and numbly figured that he must’ve looked like hell; he also still hadn’t moved. Lawrie struggled to sit up, Pauloc lifting his hand hurriedly from his friend’s back and sliding backwards to give Lawrie more room. Lawrie managed to sit up, legs folded beneath himself, and soon after Pauloc’s hand returned to Lawrie’s back.

    “Good, Law…? if you want you can move to one of our beds and we’ll worry about cleaning up for you,” Mirka suggested quietly, Lawrie barely catching her reassuring smile with how dark it still was.

    “No,” Lawrie croaked, despite how much he really wanted to, “I-I’m fine.” He knew he wouldn’t-- couldn’t fall back asleep.

    Mirka’s head dipped slightly. “Pauloc, could you go find some rags?” She waved a hand to Lawrie, shushing his protests before he barely even made a sound. “And the sick bowl, just in case,” Mirka added.

    “Who had that last…?” Pauloc mumbled to himself as he lifted his hand from Lawrie’s back yet again, turning to crawl off of Lawrie’s bedroll before standing and moving quietly away.

    Lawrie barely glanced up as Pauloc left, even as he returned, his eyes watching the candle flame dance. Lawrie lifted his head then as something was draped over him, and upon realizing it was another blanket he pulled it closer around himself. It occurred to Lawrie that earlier he had declined a second blanket, and had been wishing that he hadn’t ever since he had woken up practically freezing; he wondered how Pauloc had known to grab the blanket. He felt Pauloc sitting down next to him, watching as Mirka took the offered handful of rags and the worn bowl before he turned to glance at his friend. Lawrie was faintly surprised when he noticed that the blue eyes were already watching him.

    “Thanks,” Lawrie mumbled hoarsely. “You too,” he added towards Mirka.

    “‘Course,” Pauloc answered quietly. Mirka only nodded, carefully patting rags onto the stone floor with her fingertips. Lawrie realized guiltily that she was used to the task.

    It was quiet for another minute or two before Lawrie attempted to clear his throat and gave up quickly. “I had a dream,” he announced softly.

    “Was it the same as you’ve had before?” Pauloc prompted, straightening easily from his half slouch.

    Mirka had stilled. “Another one?” She muttered.

    Lawrie felt a brief stab of annoyance. He knew that Mirka didn’t think much of dreams, and had made that very clear the last time Lawrie tried to explain one of his, by rolling her eyes. Pauloc’s unspoken encouragement next to him was easy to read. “Yes,” Lawrie stated firmly. He turned decidedly to recount his dream for Pauloc, heard Mirka sigh, and knew she was listening too.

    Pauloc whistled lowly once Lawrie had finished. “... Did you say you saw blue? Like the sky?”

    “Yeah.” Lawrie shifted, lifting a hand to rub his fingers into his temple.

    Pauloc gave only a nod then, watching Lawrie silently.

    “Interesting,” Mirka commented quietly. “I don’t understand though, how was it so bad that it made you throw up--?”

    “It was so real, Mirka,” Lawrie interrupted, looking to her sharply. “I could feel the dirt, and the light was warm… Whatever grabbed me, that was ice cold-- I could smell the dirt and I, I was so afraid. Mirka if you tell me that doesn’t mean something, I-I’ll…” Lawrie closed his eyes tightly, ever aware of the startled silence his friends breathed. “I’m tired,” he mumbled flatly. “We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

    “Right… ” Pauloc spoke first. “Do you, need anything else? The candle can stay here if you want. One of us could stay here, too, just in case?”

    “No, thanks,” Lawrie sighed. “I’ll be fine. Thank you,” he said again.

    “Good night, Law.” Mirka always had a subtle way of apologizing; her tone was soft. She leaned forward to rub briefly at Lawrie’s upper arm before rising stiffly, hesitating only slightly before heading away.

    Pauloc slid around Lawrie on his haunches to take care of the candle, lifting his head to glance to Lawrie as he hovered above the flickering light. Lawrie nodded slightly, shifting himself to lay back down as Pauloc finally blew out the candle.

    The smell of the candle smoke still lingered even when Lawrie was eventually able to fall back into a restless sleep.

+  +  +

    “Two more days in this hell-hole and I'm gonna be sick.” Pauloc seemed to strengthen his point with a loud clatter, as he dumped more pieces of wood onto the pile they had gathered.

    The group of ten was traveling in poor conditions. They had barely enough food for everyone, maybe a keg and half of water, and two more days of travel through the edges of the city; better known as the Bloodlands.

    “Another day of listening to you whine, and I'm gonna be sick all over you,” Lawrie puffed, dropping his armload of wood down as well. He brushed his hands off on his already wood dusted cargo pants, wincing as the fabric pulled at the splinters in his skin.

    “You wouldn't,” Pauloc exclaimed in a huff. “Would you?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Lawrie gave a teasing shrug, and the boys managed small chuckles.

    “Oi! Do you two have all the wood gathered yet?” With a worn axe in one hand and a half of a block of wood in the other, Mirka stomped over to the boys. She tossed the piece of wood absently towards the pile, where it clattered and rolled to lay next to the other pieces.

    “Now we do,” Pauloc pointed out wisely.
    “Funny!” Mirka clipped sarcastically, grinning a little despite herself as Pauloc stuck his tongue out at her.

    Lawrie smiled faintly himself, and was suddenly reminded of the night before, when their dynamic had been very different.

    The three of them hadn’t always been on the greatest terms, in fact, with how much their personalities varied it was odd how they’d even managed to stick together. Pauloc was taller than the other two; four inches more than Lawrie and a good five over Mirka. His feathery blond hair would often stick up uncontrolled, and his cloudy blue-gray eyes could be considered unnerving at times. With his teasing, irritability, and occasional swearing Pauloc could even be considered intimidating; it was his gangly appearance and clumsiness that definitely ruined that, in Lawrie’s opinion anyway. Lawrie had also only ever been on the receiving end of Pauloc’s teasing a few times, when he was first picked up by the group, and soon after that Pauloc started making jokes for Lawrie’s benefit. He would tease other people, make situations a little lighter, and almost always managed to make Lawrie laugh.  

    Mirka’s brown, naturally auburn highlighted hair was usually tied into two low ponytails that she commonly had over her shoulders. With her slightly stocky stature and accusing amber eyes, Mirka was often the intimidating one. She also ignored Lawrie at first-- for the most part. Pauloc and Mirka weren’t yet on good terms, so she tended to avoid Lawrie when Pauloc was near; Lawrie realized that the tall blond had usually always been with him. Whenever Mirka got a chance, though, she would help Lawrie out and show him the ropes of traveling with the group. At one point, once Lawrie was good friends with both of them, he told them he wouldn’t talk to either of them until they could work out a way to be near each other. It took only a few days until they were all hanging out together, and Lawrie couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself.

    One of the things that Mirka had done since Lawrie had known her, and continued to do even now, was defend her friends to the teeth.

    “You’re an absolute prick!” Mirka shouted forward, looking just about ready to ditch her backpack and give someone a bigger piece of her mind. That someone was Erik, the questionable leader of the ten members of their travel group.

    As Pauloc had first explained to Lawrie, Erik had promoted himself to being the leader simply because of the fact that he was the oldest.

    “Watch your tongue, sweetheart, or you might not be eating tonight. You wouldn’t want that…!” Erik called back in a honeyed tone from the front of the group.

    “Mirka,” Pauloc warned as she started to open her mouth, “He’s not kidding you know. I heard that one kid was banned from rations for a week and he almost ate his own fingers…”

    “What?” Lawrie looked sharply to Pauloc, who gave him a sideways smirk and winked.

    Mirka may not have heard Pauloc, or she just didn’t care. “Bullshit,” she muttered.

    “That’s my line,” Pauloc said mildly.

    Lawrie realized he had fallen behind in watching the two and sped up slightly, narrowly avoiding tripping over a chunk of brick. He hopped over it to sidle up next to Pauloc, releasing the strap on his own backpack to take hold of the elbow on Pauloc’s jacket, tugging slightly to get the taller boy’s attention. “You were joking, right? With that story of yours?”

    Pauloc blinked down at Lawrie before simply grinning. “Did you think I was serious? I dunno Pryce, I heard it from…” Pauloc paused to gesture to the others walking ahead of them. “...One of those girls, I think. They were talking the other night about that kind of stuff.”

    “Oh.”

    “But, hey! Did you know, that one of them survived a raid on her previous group? She was the only one that got away, and the rest of her group was apparently slaughtered and carted away to the city to be harvested.”

    “Pauloc, you are one sick boy if you think that’s at all amusing--” Mirka put in accusingly.

    “Wha-at? No, no, I don’t! I was just sharing something I heard,” Pauloc defended hastily.

    Mirka’s gaze was still judging. She leaned forward slightly, glancing around Pauloc to look to Lawrie, and her eyes immediately widened as she turned back to Pauloc. “Why don’t you shut up for now, huh? You’ll make Lawrie sick again.”

    Pauloc’s thin brows drew together easily and he looked to where Lawrie was walking on his right. “Ahh, shit Lawrie, I’m sorry.”

    Lawrie blinked a few times, swallowing hard and shaking his head. “No, it’s-- I’m fine.” He turned his head away quickly as Pauloc continued to stare at him, dropping his hand from Pauloc’s arm with a shaky sigh. Lawrie forced himself to simply focus on the long walk they still had ahead of them, though he couldn’t seem to get over the cold knot in his stomach.

     “Alright team, we’ll stop here for the night!” Erik announced, and one could practically see the sigh of relief that rippled through the group.

    They had been traveling from near dawn to dusk now, trekking across ruins of buildings that made up the edges of the city. The group had even passed through a marshland at one point, the buildings half sunk into the wet and swampy earth. Lawrie had stopped to stare in awe at one building; it had the looks of one of those twenty, thirty story buildings he had only ever heard about, and even though it seemed to be half into the ground it still towered above him, casting long shadows in the setting sun. He had even been tempted to get closer to peer through the large windows, but he was dragged away by the silent threat of being left behind by the rest of the group. Lawrie noticed once he had caught back up that Mirka and Pauloc had been watching him, their expressions different but linked with the soft, sad look they seemed to give him. Lawrie kept wondering about the instance throughout the passing hours.

    “He sounds like a damn football coach,” Pauloc grumbled, careful to make sure that Erik wouldn’t actually hear him. He gave a different kind of grumble, one of relief as he dropped his backpack from his shoulders, stretching out his arms behind his head.

    “Football?” Lawrie prompted, puzzled. He kept his backpack on even as Mirka dropped hers too.

    Mirka and Pauloc exchanged a brief look, Pauloc turning to Lawrie then slowly.

    “Whatcha mean?” Pauloc laughed slightly. “Y’know, football, like…” Pauloc mimed holding a ball, bringing his arms back before sending one forward, faking a toss up into the air. “No?” He turned back to Lawrie, who only shrugged. “Dude… In what world were you born?” Pauloc rose his brows at Lawrie, expression mystified.

    Lawrie stiffened slightly, looking uncomfortable. “What’s that supposed to mean? Sorry, I don’t know everything?” His tone was sharp and heavily sarcastic, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen Pauloc flinch slightly. Lawrie felt an easy prick of guilt and opened his mouth to perhaps apologize when he was interrupted by a sudden, loud shout.

    “Get in line!” Erik’s voice was amplified by the echoes cast amongst the ruins.

    Mirka shifted her gaze from watching the other two and moved to grab her backpack again. “Roll call,” she muttered. She visibly steeled herself, lifting her chin and marching away. Erik squawked something again almost as soon as Mirka disappeared around the edge of one of the crumbled buildings.

    “We’d better get over there,” Pauloc simply said, bending to swing his backpack onto one shoulder. He flicked a last glance over Lawrie before heading off in the direction Mirka had gone.

    Lawrie had been given the job of collecting firewood since he had first joined the group, and afterwards he would often have to sit down and pick out the splinters he seemed to have in his hands and fingers no matter how he carried the wood.

    They had actually brought the firewood with them for the journey this particular day as their ‘head navigator’, Lenita, had predicted that the area they’d be traveling through would be much too wet and swampy to actually find any suitable firewood. Lawrie was happy that he hadn’t been assigned to carry it, though his mood was turned sour as he found that whoever had carried it seemed to have emptied their pack of wood as soon as Erik had announced they’d be stopping for the day. And of course, it was nowhere near where the group had decided to pitch their fire.

    Even with his arms full, Lawrie still bent down to grab for the last piece of wood; he was determined not to have to make more than one trip. He managed to pluck it up, holding the end of the wood in his fingers as he turned slowly to hobble his way back to the campsite. After a painful minute or so he heard laughter and saw sparks of orange fly upwards, winking out fast against the dark velvet of the night sky. If there had actually been proper dry wood nearby, Lawrie silent decided that he’d find somebody to blame for putting him in the position in the first place to find the firewood.

    Lawrie staggered forward bitterly, then slowed to adjust his grip on the log he held in his fingers. In that short moment of distraction, Lawrie’s toe caught on something and he was sent tumbling forward, the wood crashing out of his arms as he fell. Lawrie’s breath hissed out between his teeth in his pain and he struggled to sit up, practically whimpering as he felt that his palms were burning and scratched, little pieces of rock embedded into his skin from where his hands had scraped against the ground as he had tried to slow his fall. Lawrie angrily shoved aside a piece of wood as he sat up completely, holding his hands up close to his face and trying to inspect his palms in the dark.

    “Where’s that firewood, Laurence?” Came Erik’s voice suddenly, mocking. Lawrie jerked his head up, half expecting Erik to be leaning over him, before he realized that the call had come from where the rest of the group was gathered. Lawrie scowled slightly at hearing laughter following Erik’s words.

    “It’s Lawrie,” Mirka said distinctly, and Lawrie easily felt a spark of admiration for his friend.

    “Whatever he’s called, he needs to hurry up.”

    Lawrie repeated Erik’s words in a mocking mumble before focusing on his palms, blowing on them to chill the burning, itchy feeling.

    “Law? Are you out there?” Pauloc’s voice was suddenly close, wavering slightly with uncertainty and something else that took Lawrie a few seconds to pick out; Pauloc’s tone had trembled with irritation, like he had just walked away from an argument to blow off steam.

    “Here,” Lawrie managed smally.

    Pauloc breathed an audible sigh of relief. “What’re you doing? Are you, on the ground?”

    Lawrie saw Pauloc’s form come into view as Pauloc sidled carefully towards him, the young man’s blond hair catching some of the light from the stars. Pauloc stopped quickly as there was a scrape of wood against concrete-- Lawrie assumed he had bumped a piece of wood with his foot.

    “Oh jeez, Law, did you fall?” Pauloc bent to quickly retrieve the pieces of wood nearest to himself, sidling forward until he was crouched in front of Lawrie with a good amount of the firewood in his arms.

    “I’ll be fine,” Lawrie answered, feeling Pauloc’s stare more than he could actually see it. “I just, tripped and scratched up my hands.”

    “You weren’t trying to carry all of the firewood at once, were you?” Pauloc teasingly accused, rising carefully from his crouch. He shifted his armful of wood as best he could to one arm, or at least one side of his body before offering down a hand to Lawrie. “I’ll help you up, yeah?”

    “‘Course not,” Lawrie mumbled after a moment of consideration, reaching up slowly to find Pauloc’s hand, his wrist brushing against Pauloc’s outstretched fingers.

    “Mmhm,” Pauloc hummed, shaking his head slightly. He gripped Lawrie’s arm, tugging his friend up-- or attempting to, at least.

    Lawrie would’ve fallen right back down if he hadn’t managed to find a footing and propel himself upwards. He swayed slightly before gaining his balance, grinning as he sensed Pauloc was throwing him a sheepish smile.

    “You’re weak, I know, it’s fine,” Lawrie teased then, wincing as he tugged his worn jacket sleeves over his hands so he could bend down to retrieve the rest of the wood.

    “Hey, c’mon now,” Pauloc protested. He attempted to reach out and cuff Lawrie over the ear, and ended up hitting Lawrie square in the nose as he straightened again. “Shit-- Sorry,” Pauloc groaned.

    “Watch it!” Lawrie complained. “Let’s go get some light around here, huh?”

    The two moved to head back to the rest of the group, greeted by relieved cheers, a slight scowl from Erik, and a wave from Mirka. Lawrie realized that the fire they had started had already died down considerably, the logs hissing and spitting from the amount of water they still contained.

    Lawrie carefully let his load of wood topple down next to the pit, and Pauloc followed suit. Lawrie moved to put some of the wood on the fire when Pauloc simply waved him back, insisting that he had it taken care of, and that Lawrie should get his hands taken care of. Lawrie grudgingly turned away, stiffly sitting down next Mirka on the pile of blankets she had laid out. There was an immediate click and a bright beam of light was shining into Lawrie’s face.

    “M-Mirka!” Lawrie turned his head quickly, blinking away the black spots that danced in his vision.

    “Whoops,” she answered sincerely, turning the flashlight beam down quickly. Mirka was the only that carried a flashlight in the group, and it was easily her most prized possession; they were rare to find out in the wilderness and ruins nowadays, Lawrie heard. He had never really seen one himself, besides Mirka’s, so he could really only assume.

    Mirka focused the light onto Lawrie’s hands, where they rested palms up upon his knees. “Yeesh, what’d you do this time?” She leaned closer to inspect Lawrie’s torn skin, and even poked at his palm next to the scrapes, easily making him flinch and fingers twitch.

    Rafe, whom Lawrie realized had been sitting on an upturned log next to the blanket pile, leaned in from Lawrie’s left to inspect his hand as well.

    “I fell,” Lawrie started slowly, glancing awkwardly at Rafe. “I tried to slow my fall,” he finished explaining for both Mirka and Rafe, it seemed.

    “You’ll be fine, that should heal up no problem,” Rafe announced. “I have bandages though, and probably some salve left from when I last made some, if you want?" Rafe shifted, pulling his traveling bag from behind him, where he had apparently stored it behind the log where he sat. He unbuckled the strap and lifted the flap, shuffling through it to produce one of the many, yet rare nowadays, glass containers he had. Rafe peeled up the plastic lid slightly to inspect the green, syrupy content before snapping the lid back on and offering the container sideways to Lawrie. “Here you are--”

    “What’s this made of again?” Mirka snatched the container from Rafe before Lawrie even made a move. She shook it slightly, and Rafe looked relatively offended.

    He drew his hand back slowly, shrugging. “It’ll help Lawrie’s hands,” Rafe answered simply.

    “Oh c’mon Rafe, its not like I’m looking to steal your secrets or anything. There’s no one here that’s better than you at making that kind of stuff,” Mirka pointed out.

    Rafe sat up slightly, looking proud at that. “I suppose… It’s basically just plants and herbs with antiseptic and numbing qualities, to sooth the pain and prevent infection.”

    “Nice.” Mirka nodded, giving the container a look of mild appreciation before finally handing it over to Lawrie.

    Lawrie took it gingerly, setting it down in his lap and popping the lid off. “You don’t have to know everything, Mirka. It’s not like Rafe would try and poison me.”

    “Excuse me?” Rafe’s dark eyes narrowed.

    “Can’t be too careful,” Mirka mumbled, tone embarrassed.

    “I’ll have you know--!”

    “Rafe,” Lawrie interrupted quickly, “How much of this should I use?”

    “Oh, er. I’d do a coat over the entirety of the scratches.” Rafe made an absent hand motion over his own palm before giving Mirka a look. “You weren’t just flattering me to get information, were you…?”

    “Of course not!” Mirka spluttered, daring to look offended herself.

    Lawrie shook his head slightly, sighing softly. He winced at how cold the salve was to his heated palm, though the feeling immediately grew soothing, and Lawrie eagerly spread more of it onto his other hand. He carefully tuned out the argument Rafe and Mirka were having over him and leaned forward to observe the layout of the group’s camp. The two girls Pauloc had gestured to earlier were sitting on the log next to Rafe, one of them glancing down to her right ever so often. Lawrie noticed her hand was resting near to where Rafe had set his down, and the other girl was giggling slightly. He thought the giggling girl’s name was Haesel, and was pretty sure the other one’s name was Felicity. Pauloc quickly directed his attention away as Haesel looked towards him, and he feigned casualness as he looked to the fire.

    Pauloc was sitting as close as he dared, tossing a last piece of wood onto the fire, sparks immediately shooting upwards into the night and the fire casting an even brighter orange glow onto Pauloc’s face and lighting up his blond hair.

    The other side of the camp was illuminated further, revealing Erik sitting on his heels, arms crossed over his knees and his chin resting on his forearms. Lawrie realized he had been surprisingly quiet since Pauloc and himself had gotten back with the firewood. At first glance one might think Erik was brooding, but as Lawrie watched Erik’s eyes close slowly, Lawrie was surprised to realize that he actually looked relaxed. It was certainly rare, but not that unusual when Lawrie thought about it.

    His gaze was distracted over to the two other boys in the group, Eliot and Aviram. They sat close to each other, Aviram nodding slowly as Eliot was whispering in his ear. Eliot grinned, laughing as Aviram pretended to look offended and pushed his friend over. Lenita, sitting atop a small log on the other side of the three, was smiling as she watched Eliot and Aviram pester each other.

    “When are we eating?” Eliot voiced as he sat up from the third time of being pushed over.

    “Glad you asked!” Haesel sprang up from her seat, striking a pose with her hands on her hips.

    Felicity looked embarrassed. “Sit down, you weirdo,” she mumbled, stealing a glance sideways at Rafe, whose brows had shot up at Haesel’s loud exclamation.

    The rest of the group roused slightly, Pauloc propping himself up onto his elbows from where he had been sprawled across the blankets between where Lawrie and Mirka sat.

    “Don’t be so loud,” Erik scolded grumpily, pressing his palms to the sides of his head.

    “Look who’s talking,” Mirka pointed out. Eliot and Aviram giggled at that, and even more obnoxiously as Erik scowled.

    “Anyway,” Haesel huffed, finally moving from her pose to retrieve her backpack. “Let’s see what we’ve got…” She set a few things of canned food out in front of her, which disappeared into the hands of the rest of the group, labels being inspected in the firelight and being passed around according to the moods.

    Pauloc passed Lawrie and Mirka a can of assorted fruits. “If that’s no good you can have some of mine,” he offered, leaning away to retrieve a few of the plastic utensils that Haesel had also laid out.

    “What’ve you got?” Mirka grabbed Pauloc’s can, shuffling for her flashlight and clicking it on briefly. “What the hell! How come you get ravioli?”

    “I claimed it, that’s why! It’s probably no good anymore, either--”

    “Uh-huh,” Mirka drawled out. “You and I are sharing, Grant, or else.”

    “I don’t mind the fruit,” Lawrie put in, shrugging as he reached for a fork.

    “You’re on her side?” Pauloc’s whines to Lawrie were easily directed back to Mirka as she started to pry open the lid of the ravioli tin.

    The rest of the meal’s noise was reduced to a quiet hum as usual, people only talking to ask for a sample or to offer someone something, or to pass something their way. Eliot and Aviram exchanged another few whispers, Aviram blushing heavily in the firelight and glancing at Eliot with narrowed eyes. Eliot grinned, winking and nudging his friend in the side. Abruptly Aviram stood and shuffled to where Erik sat. He bent down hurriedly, eyes squeezed shut as he leaned forward to plop a quick kiss to Erik’s lips.

    “W-What the hell--!” Erik squawked, scrambling backwards and attempting to bat Aviram away at the same time.

    “It was a dare! It was a dare, I swear!” Aviram yelped, dancing away.

    “Don’t ever--!” Erik blustered. “Eliot it was you, wasn’t it, dammit I’ve told you to stop pulling that crap! But you never listen, do you?”

    Eliot was practically choking from laughing so hard, gasping and spluttering. “Right, sure, yeah,” he coughed, chuckling and waving absently at Erik.

    Aviram scrubbed furiously at his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, glaring sideways at Eliot.

    “Was Aviram a good kisser, Erik?” Pauloc prompted, and it was hard to tell if he was being jokingly eager or not. “‘Cause y’know, I’d dare him to kiss me any day.”

    “P-Pauloc--!” Aviram yelped, wide-eyed.

    “You’re all bastards,” Erik answered pointedly.

    “You boys are all wimps, if you ask me,” Haesel said matter-of-factly, through a mouthful of chili.

    “Nobody asked you,” Felicity mumbled, only smiling slightly as Haesel shot her a sideways grin.

    Mirka looked like she wanted to add something into that, then simply smirked and turned to Pauloc. “Serious question time-- who wouldn’t you kiss here?” Mirka asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

    “You,” Pauloc teased.

    “Well yeah, ew,” Mirka muttered. “Sexual contact is not my thing, Grant.”

    “Kisses aren’t that sexual!”

    “They are for me--”

    “Quit it, you two,” Lawrie protested, rolling his eyes.

    “Yeah, save that conversation for bedtime, huh?” Rafe added, then offered out a piece of dried, salted meat to Lawrie. When he declined, Rafe shrugged and helped himself to the piece.

    “For the last time--!” Mirka groaned, furious that her question had been so easily turned against her. “Just forget it,” she snapped to Pauloc as he opened his mouth, “You’re not listening.”

    Pauloc blinked a few times and shot a glance sideways to Lawrie, who gave him a look that read, ‘She’s right, you know.’

    “Sorry Mirka,” Pauloc mumbled honestly, trying a slight smile as Mirka only shrugged.

    “Where are you going?” Aviram spoke accusingly from across the fire.

    Eliot had stood, walking backwards as he jerked a thumb behind himself. “Bathroom break? Dude,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his curly brown-haired head. “Didn’t I say sorry already? You’re welcome to come with me, but its not like I’m going to pull something again.” Eliot tossed a wink to Erik, who sniffed and turned away sharply.

    “You want me to come, ‘cause you’re scared of the dark.” Aviram stood and hopped after his friend, grinning teasingly.

    “Whaat, no…” Eliot’s protests faded soon after the two disappeared out of the range of the firelight.

    “They didn’t even ask for my flashlight this time,” Mirka said mildly.

    “Their stupidity is surely bright enough,” Erik grumbled. Lenita even laughed a little.

    The boys were gone long enough for everyone to get the tins of food sorted away, and blankets were passed around accordingly before Aviram was finally illuminated, tripping towards the camp.

    “Eliot’s not back yet?” Aviram asked breathlessly, bent over slightly with his hands on his knees.

    “Whoa there, what’d you do, run a marathon?” Pauloc eyed Aviram curiously. “No, he’s not here.”

    “O-Oh.” Aviram frowned, straightening and throwing a glance back over his shoulder. “I thought he’d given me the slip or something and come back without me… It’s, spooky out there,” Aviram finished, giving a short, nervous laugh.

    “Mm.” Pauloc shrugged and yawned, lifting a fist to his mouth absently.

    Aviram sidled awkwardly back to his spot, simply sitting on the blankets that had been set out for himself and Eliot.

    The minutes that passed were silent save for the crackling of the fire, a breeze that whistled through the ruins that surrounded the group, and the occasional murmur of conversation. There were no signs of Eliot, though Aviram kept a constant, anxious watch over the edges of the camp.

    “Where is he…” Aviram murmured at one point.

    “He’ll be back,” Pauloc encouraged. “Anyone want to hear a joke--?”
    “No.” Mirka’s eyes flashed.

    Lawrie realized that Mirka looked excited, and he swallowed nervously.

    The two boys watched her cautiously as she clambered to her feet, and then her flashlight clicked on underneath her face, giving her a skeletal glow.

     “Let’s do ghost stories. There was once a young boy, not unlike us, lost and alone in the ruins of a city…”

    “Mirka, don’t,” Aviram pleaded. “It’s not funny-- If you give me the flashlight I could go out and look for him!”

    “He’ll be back,” Mirka answered dismissively.

    “He’s been gone for twenty minutes Mirka,” Lawrie pointed out quietly.

    “Lawrie’s right! Please--”

    “Five minutes,” Erik interrupted. “If Eliot’s gone any longer than five minutes, I’ll personally go out with Aviram to look.”

    “Thank you,” Aviram breathed, shooting a look across the fire to to Mirka. She shrugged, clicking the flashlight off guiltily and settling back down.

    The fire had been starting to dwindle down, and Pauloc slid forward towards the wood pile. “Any protests to another log?” Pauloc offered, pulling one into his hands. Lenita sat up suddenly from where she was leaning against a log behind where Erik sat, her face a stark white in the firelight, eyes wide in horror. Pauloc noticed and paused, unsure. “Is that a no--?”

    Lenita’s mouth opened slightly as a sound formed at the back of her throat before there was a sudden, fleshy snap and her neck was wrenched to the side at an unnatural angle. Felicity was the first to react, screaming as Lenita slumped over.

    Erik turned hurriedly only to find cold metal closing around his neck, and his hands moved instinctively to try and pull it away. His eyes bulged in terror as he found that his feet were suddenly leaving the ground, an android looming over him and effortlessly lifting Erik up by one hand.

    “Oh god--” Pauloc was on his feet, the piece of wood clattering to the stone as he backpedaled. More androids were suddenly surrounding the camp, two more with the build of hunters and about three that were smaller, the size of trackers. One of them slung Lenita’s limp form up over its shoulder, red eyes flashing like laser points

    “Eliot!” Aviram screamed; one of the trackers had Eliot slung over its shoulder and leveled its gaze at Aviram, almost quizzically. Half-sobbing, Aviram lunged forward blindly, only to be doubled over by a hunter’s fist in his stomach.

    Haesel and Felicity had toppled backwards over their log, Felicity turning to crawl on all fours when she was whisked up by the back of her coat, shrieking all the way.

    Lawrie could only stare, frozen with fear, as Haesel was dragged backwards into the darkness by her arms, kicking and crying. He jumped as something seized him by the shoulder, his heart pounding in his throat. Lawrie would’ve lashed out had he not found himself suddenly face to face with Mirka. He was almost pulled flat onto his face as she tugged him backwards, and struggled to his hands and knees before finding his feet and tearing away after her.

    “Where’s Pauloc?” Lawrie distantly heard himself demand. A sudden, ear-piercing scream interrupted any chance of Mirka responding. Lawrie tugged his arm from her hold and skidded to a stop, whirling around in time to witness someone wreathed in fire, flailing and screeching even as androids closed in from all sides, other bodies thrown over their shoulders.

    “Lawrie-- We have to leave--!” Mirka was pulling hard on his arm again, tears streaming down her cheeks as Lawrie fought against her.

    “Where’s Pauloc?” He repeated desperately, whirling on Mirka and taking her by the shoulders, shaking her. They were both shoved sideways as something collided with them, Lawrie keeping hold of one of Mirka’s shoulders to prevent her from falling completely. Pauloc was a few feet in front of them, already turning and beckoning.

    “Let’s move!” He gasped, his blanched and desperate expression, his other arm held oddly against his chest, illuminated by the blazing firelight behind Mirka and Lawrie. The screams had become background noise as the three sprinted away through the ruins.