Alone in a Forest, [Tag: Brennuh]

[Izzy]

Huffing more than slightly, Mark sat in the middle of a clearing, sipping from a plastic tube, looking up at the sky. A small fire burned in front of him, and the mug of heating water would promise hot chocolate later on in the evening. His olive drab jacket wrapped warmly around him, the steaming interior overkilled it when insulation was needed. Shoot, not good. Shrugging it off, Mark stood and stamped his feet, getting circulation back into his feet from their half hour nap. The new blood stung, but it was a good pain. At least it was still there. He looked around his half built camp: tent, small fire, gear hung off the nearby tree, to save it from scavengers.

Oh, rifle. Might as well see if anything was worth hunting.

Slinging that over his shoulder and moving off into the forest, Mark brushed strands of his long, dark gold hair from his face, and checked his rifle. Test fire, as always. Pointing at a far off tree, Mark sighted in, aimed, and a single shot rang out. Brown eyes looked up from the sights, and surveyed the shot. He pulled out his binoculars, and checked on the branch he'd aimed at. Perfect, really. It had struck the thing neatly. Testing the wind, Mark looked to its source and started walking, his cap slipping onto his head and the small knapsack over his shoulder. Looking off into the distance, he decided not to go, and sat down on his seat, glasses reflecting the soft heat coming from the fire. Tossing more wood into the fire, he pulled out the mug and replaced it with a can of spaghetti. Soon the smell of cooking spaghetti wafted across the campsite.

The reason a guy was out here, alone in the middle of the fall?

Just to relax, really. And get the hot chocholate going.

[brennuh]

She'd heard the shot ring out across the quiet forest. It was a loud obnoxious noise, and a terrifying one. Someone was there, in the depths of green, too close for comfort. Sighing, she ducked behind a tree, knowing she was plenty close to where the shot had hit its target. She could hear the animal baying in discomfort and pain.

Peering over some shrubbery, she made eye contact with the large beast who had been shot. Looking away quickly, she realized that she couldn't watch an animal die in this way. So she crept away once more, attempting to erase the animal's pitiful grunts out of her mind. And then the smell hit her. Something she had not had in weeks, or perhaps months even- by now, but yet she remember the very smell. Human food.

Her mouth watered, and Melinda Oster wiped her lower lip, where a line of damp had formed. The gun shot must of come from the person with the food. Mel immediately felt caution creep through her bones. She didn't want to be this person's new target practice.

Her clothes had long ago become tattered and dirty, but Melinda had just let them fall off as time went by. She had used the tan of several rabbits that she had killed for food over the past while, and had made butt- hugging shorts, held together with twin, and a simple halter-top bra. It seemed like so long ago, and it probably was, when she had run away from her life back in the city. She'd been happy in these woods, though lonely, as anyone would be in such a position.

She knew she shouldn't approach the stranger. She knew she should let the person go on their way, and keep to herself. But she was so hungry for something normal. No more berries and rabbit, roasted over an open fire. Real food, from a can. Creeping forward once more, Melinda caught sight of the bag tied to the tree.

And with that, she began to formulate her plan.

[Izzy]

(brennuh? Mark didn't hit anything... just a tree)

Mark continued with his afternoon tea/dinner, mixing in powdered chocolate and a little sugar with the hot water, and soon the mix had been evenly stirred. Putting the steaming metal mug to his lips, he took a small sip and the warm liquid slid down his throat. The prescence of the smell worried him, and so Mark kept the rifle close at hand. It wasn't like he needed it. The solid build of the eighteen year old boy was supplemented by years of experience in using his knife, which was tucked away at his hip. The fork was dipped into the can, and tasted for heat. Precooked spaghetti still had to be heated, and anyway, this wasn't the time to be eating cold food.

It was starting to get colder, now that the sun was disappearing behind clouds.

And something else was off. Mark had often been praised with the sense of precognition, although that wasn't true, he often was able to read the signs in nature that always came before an event. Exactly what, this time, was something else. Branches snapped, leaves rustled and everything moved. Something in the air was very wrong. Putting his mug down on a smooth rock, Mark stood and looked at the trees and bushes around him.

Something was coming.

Putting himself back down, he picked up his rifle and checked the weapon over, sliding it back into its place in the snow. There was a flash of something, and it was heading this way, it seemed. Damn, what was it? He stood up, picked up his rifle and his jacket. Looking around, the boy moved off, soon scaling up a tree and settling down into a sniper's roost. Slinging the rifle over his back, Mark scanned the surrounding forest, looking over his shoulder and checking the forest behind him. The clearing was all covered, and he was going to find what was after him. Shuffling a little, Mark's camouflage jacket blended him into the tree.

Come out, come out, wherever you are...

[brennuh]

Gosh darnit! I knew I was too tired for life. Well, I still am. But, blah. Sorryy.

It was the smell that kept drawing her nearer and nearer to the camp. It was the smell of food, and hot drink that caused her to forget even the most basic senses. Melinda bared her teeth and ducked down low in the shrubbery. There was now an added silence, the camp seemed to be quiet. No more clanking tins, bowling liquid. Creeping forward further, she smelled the air, smelling for enimies

Not like it would do her a lot of good. It wasn't like she knew what she was doing. She'd run away months ago, almost half a year ago, and Melinda was sure that the newspapers and Lost and Found bulletins were covered with her face. And even if they weren't, her parents would still be looking- well... maybe not. Taking a deep breath, Melinda shut her eyes and counted to ten silently. A good count always calmed her down.

It was probably be best if she could get the food hanging from the tree. That probably contained more in it than what the person had in just the camp alone. Melinda couldn't decide what to do, or how to do it, and she stood abruptly, and took a step away from the camp, stepping on a branch. The snap echoed through the forest, and Melinda ducked once more, wrapping her arms around her head in fear.

[Izzy]

Don't worry, I couldn't really post too much...

Looking around, Mark decided to pull his hat off, the camouflage pattern revealing his mane of blond hair, and he scanned the forest. Breathing out, he saw something move about. Alive... something alive. The silence was rather disturbing, like a predator looking at its prey. Who was the predator, and who was the prey? He didn't want to know, otherwise he might have a fit if he found that he wasn't the predator. Weren't humans on the top rung, or something? Damn... he looked at the campsite again, and saw something else move. Anything that it was, it was here.

A branch snapped, and the rifle was brought out, aimed at the campsite and then he looked out at the strung up hiking pack. Footsteps... it was heading towards that. Damn, whoever it was, the thing was going for his gear! Leaning back on the tree, he bent the half foot wide branch and hurled himself forward, landing with a wooden crackle as he hit the ground running. Gear jangled around his body, and he made a dash for the bag. The knife whipped out of its sheath and held reverse bladed in his hand, the point sticking out from the pinky.

"NO YOU DON'T!"

He stopped short, the rest of his clothes and gear forgetting that the rest of Mark had stopped, and they whipped forward, before coming back down and jangling against his chest. Who was this? She looked like Robina Crusoe, with her mussed up hair, rabbit skin clothing and... it was all ruined by the pose. Her arms over her head, as if protecting herself from something coming from above. Mark still stood, frozen to the spot. What the... He stepped forward, his knife clicking back to his sheath, and Mark squatted down a good five feet away. His eyebrow cocked up, looking curiously at her.

"Who are you? Are you alright?"

[brennuh]

She had know it was a person, of course, a human. A real one. One of the creatures she had not seen in too long. Melinda also knew that she was one of those awful creatures. With the loud voices, the hard stares and the careless minds. That was why she had to leave. To prove that she could be something else. To prove she was someone else than what others had already decided she was.

The position she was in hurt her pride. Especially as the looming figure came over her, then crouched her height. Looking in the eye, on her knees. And then he talked to her. A soothing, calming, half-fearful voice, asking her if she was ok. It had been a long time since anyone had talked to her. So long, in fact, that Melinda felt as if she had lost her own voice. The words didn't make sense to her, though their meanings did.

She slowly lowered her hands, and managed a nod, staying in her position, examining the boy crouched at such a distance. What, did he think she was going to bite him? She was a runaway, not a rabid dog. Slowly, she reached out her arm to its full extent, and spread out her fingers, wanting suddenly to feel another human's warmth.

"Who are you?" she asked, before realizing that she was talking. And once she realized that the noise of words had come out of her mouth, she felt ashamed. Her voice sounded warbled, and unlike the boy's. It sounded like a castaways speech. Had she so quickly forgotten how to talk? Had she become lost to herself as she had become lost to the world?

Melinda took a new breath, and prepared herself for what was about to come. Who knew? Maybe she'd have to kill the boy to remain in silence. And to steal his food.

[Izzy]

A human girl, who was dressed rather... natuarally... and had an aversion to humans. Was this some weird forest community or something? But her eyes betrayed very little emotion, and it wasn't really showing up for him. Why was she like this? Were there others around the place? Mark quickly glanced at his meal, it was still there, and it was beginning to bubble. Oh boy...

She uncurled from her rather timid stance, and she looked at him. Still silent? Not good, Mark wasn't really too good on the fact that there wasn't someone talking. It made things awkward, and especially uncomfortable. Brushing strands of his long, dark blond hair from his eyes, Mark wondered, almost idly, how long she had been here for. Did she even speak?

The girl mentally measured the distance between them, it wasn't really very much, or too little. Enough space to have privacy, but almost no intimacy about it. Mark wasn't planning anything for her, if all, she would get a meal and they would part ways. Her arm reached out to him, and the boy understood. He shuffled a little closer. Sitting down, he reached out and touched her hands. A tentative touch, only fingertips made contact.

Who am I?

It was barely understandable, seeing as that's what they came out as a strained, rather unused voice. damn... she wouldn't have used her voice much, eh? Softly smiling to encourage her, Mark nodded his understanding. He checked his food again, it was going on overheat, although the fire was dying out. Oh dear... not good.

"Mark. Do you have a name?"

Clear, carefully chosen words. While slower in pace than usual, it wasn't so slow as to be insulting someone's intelligence. More like if you were in a speech where everyone needed to hear you. Although this wasn't the kind of thing you'd say to a person who didn't know English, Mark figured that she knew enough English to get by. He wondered what the was thinking. His focus was on his currently burning food. Ah well... he stood, and began to walk to the campsite.

Turning back to her, he nodded towards the camp.

"Uh... you want some dinner?"

[brennuh]

Oreos and milk officially make my life.

It was as though language had just ran around her in circles, an then had just run smack ab into her. She felt like babbling without meaning, like telling this stranger everything. Of all the small defenseless animals she'd been left to kill. All the cold and lonely nights. But she didn't. Melinda kept silent. She had to, to keep her secrets. Secrets were important.

She watched as the boy looked desperately at his food. She momentarily wished that she had food to look at. But then, Melinda decided, she would. She would take all his food. He could go home to his dear parents. Or whoever he loved. He could get more. She couldn't. Not without murder.

When the boy touched his fingers to hers, a light shiver took over her body, and she withdrew her hand as quickly as she could, mentally berating herself for being so stupid as to allow contact. She was there for the food. Nothing else. But his eyes... they were drawing her in. No, the food. His sandy blond hair, shiny in the sun. The hunger. His fingers, so long and lean, muscled and skilled. Food.

She watched him stand abruptly, and nodded slowly as he asked if she wanted food. Those lips... what was she thinking? Had it really been so long since any sort of contact? Really, Melinda was surprised he didn't recognize her. She was well known in the city. Or at least, she thought she had been. It seemed like, back in school, everyone knew her name, her business, her downfalls. Everyone knew who her parents were. A couple who were more than just billionaires.

Melinda hated it. She would always hate it. And she was certainly never going back.

But it was getting cold.

And she was so hungry...

Standing up with catlike motions, Melinda followed the boy, Mark, to the campfire, the smell of food leading her more than he was. "Please,' she managed, stumbling behind him.

[Izzy]

Mark looked curiously at the girl, she seemed to be a rather shy person, but that had to be expected, the girl had barely any human contact for a while, it seemed. Or never? The thought that she was part of a secluded community popped back into his mind. Hmm, but there were rather pressing concerns in his mind right now. Like burning his dinner. She could keep her silence. Mark was out here to be with nature, not to pry into someone's existence.

Passingly, he wondered what she was thinking about, especially if it involved him. Wondering what would happen. Probably a little dinner and they would part ways, continuing on with their separate lives. He noted that she had flinched from him touching her. Smiling gently, he tried to comfort her. Mark may have lived in the suburbs of a city, but he wasn't a city boy, either. Fyuuuuh~ What the hell was happening? This was turning into a scene of confusion and quite a bit of clashing.

She stood, almost fluidly, and Mark admired her agility. He nodded, smiling.

"Sure... I'll get another can."

Leading the way, or at least what he thought what was happening, Mark vaulted over a low log and shooed a roving animal. How did he know? Something bolted from the clearing and was crashing through the forest. It was now that Mark's clothing could be seen in complete detail: A camouflage pattern jacket, with an olive drab shirt underneath, and dark brown cargo pants. Heavy black boots finished things off, as well as the dark grey beanie to cover the long, dark blond hair.

Oh, don't forget the belt was decked out in a manner that rivaled Batman, and the rifle over his shoulder.

As he walked over to his pack for food, he racked his brain, trying to remember something that had happened a few months ago. This girl fit the basic description of that heiress that ran away... But it was dismissed as he began to work around the camp. Pulling out the can from the flames. It wasn't too badly burned, if burnt at all, it was hot. The ground sizzled as the can made contact. Another can was pulled out of his pack and quickly opened. Rigging it up to the fireplace, he looked at the girl. Pointing at the can, he spoke again.

"Its hot, don't try eating that..."

Settling back, Mark sat on the damp ground, leaving the small log he had rolled in here for the girl. He smiled a little, the metal fork and spoon extracted from his pack as he spoke.

"So... do you have a name, or have you forgotten it?"

[brennuh]

The name question was going to be an issue, Melinda knew that already. She also knew that when it came time to answer it, which would be in just a few seconds, she would have to lie and give him a run down of a made up life. That wasn't the biggest issue on hand, however. The fact that he could recognize her at any given moment was troublesome.

Taking a deep sigh, she looked down at the steaming can and knelt by it, feeling the heat from the fire lick at her knees. Her hands had long since lost their soft skin to animal bites and the bark of wood. Without even hesitating, Melinda reached for the can and pulled a small handful of noodles out. Without even blinking, she dropped the handful into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

The taste made her remember the better times at home. When the meals weren't good by under payed maids. And when she actually had a school to attend, rather than tutors who droned on and on about nuclear physics and algebra. Melinda had always been a good student. By the time she was in grade six, she understood the basics of grade twelve, and so on and so forth.

Melinda wanted to be a painter. Her parents however, did not.

After her mouthful of noodles were downed, Melinda looked over to Mark with a thoughtful expression in her eyes. Sighing, Melinda dropped her hands to her knees, and tilted her head. "I have a name," she murmured, and chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before continuing. "Mel... ody," she said, drawing out the MEL before quickly inserting the ODY. Melody was not a bad name in anyway, but Melinda knew, the moment that she'd said it, that Melody was far too much like Melinda, and he cover was so nearly blown.

All she could hope was that this boy's tracking skills were awful, and as soon as she was done with him - if she'd ever be done with that face - he would leave her alone. But hoping is for fools, and Melinda was no fool. Or at least, she hoped she wasn't.

The food felt slimy down her throat. A slight change from overcooked wild meat. She made another grab from the spaghetti, and kept a wary eye on Mark the entire time.

[Izzy]

Wow, she could do that? Even Mark wouldn't have dared to scoop steaming hot spaghetti and put it into his mouth. And this was a guy who was considered rather crazy at school, okay? Looking in morbid fascination, the blond watched for the wince of pain, the little indication that she was somehow trying to freak him out or something. either way, it was still interesting to watch.

Mark continued to flick through his mind, there was something familiar about her, but it wasn't personal. It was something saw... something in the paper, the news, internet? It was a local piece, too. Well, not really his concern on who she was before she was the person in front of him. Mark stumbled back into his current concerns, and checked his new can of food. It was alright.

She was deep in thought, and Mark left her at it. He stood and shuffled over to his pack, pulling out the drink bottle and his PDA. Hey, nature boy or not, the guy liked cutting edges. Booting it up, he left it to load his usual supply of the recent mail from his friends and family. He took the drink bottle, and sat down. Pulling off the cap, he offered it to the girl. She was still chewing on her thoughts, and Mark left her, gulping down a mouthful of river water. It was clean, as far as he knew.

Melody introduced herself, and Mark nodded.

"Melody... nice to meet you."

He sat back, listening to the breeze, so to speak. His sense of smell wasn't as sharp as many other beings in this forest, but it wasn't like he was totally senseless. Something seemed off. It wasn't really what was in the air, but what was spoken. Something didn't fit quite right. Walking back to the PDA, he flicked through the emails. It would be for tonight, while falling asleep. Not now, with a guest... of sorts. Mark turned it off and pushed it into his pack. His only link to civilization.

Well, screw that, he was out here, in nature now.

Grabbing a fork, Mark sat down and offered it to Melody.

"Want to use this?"

He had a spoon, he would use that. It was okay, it was rare that Mark wasn't going to offer something to a guest. Hey, that was what hosts did, wasn't it?

[brennuh]

She saw it in his face, the way his head shook as he thought about it. She was stuffing her mouth full of another handful of noodles as she watched him, and Melinda realized, slowly, that the boy so close and yet so far away recognized her in some fashion. She swallowed loudly, and sat back on her hunches, ready to bolt.

And then he pulled out that bloody hand-held computer. Nature boy, indeed. He could search her in a matter of seconds, and she'd be over. Melinda managed a small smile as he tucked it away, and she hoped to death that he wasn't on to her. And then she thought of it. She would steal his communication. She would cut off his link. He could stay with her, and forget about everything. But at the same time Melinda knew she couldn't. He had a life he probably wasn't willing to leave. The PDA was an obvious example of this.

She ignored the fork being offered to her, and made a grab for another handful of spaghetti. This is how she'd been eating for months. Why would she stop now? Swallowing again, Melinda tipped her head. "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp and attentive. It was probably the most she'd said yet, and her voice sounded almost miraculous to her own ears.

Melinda scratched her side, leaving dark red lines where her jagged and overgrown nails had dragged across tender and tanned skin. Her naturally strawberry blond hair had been bleached weeks ago from the sun, though some red still existed in her long locks. Otherwise, her head was a tangled halo of sunny blond hair. Her eyes were bright blue, and her lips were tinted red from the berries she ate for liquid.

Now a jug of water was being pushed at her, and Melinda felt a slight annoyance twang through her. Not that she was hostile to the boy, but she could get her own water from the river whenever she wanted. After all, her makeshift hut was built quite near to it. But the noodles were making her thirsty, and if she bolted now, Melinda was not so sure if he would let her go. Reaching out, she grabbed the bottle from his hold, brought it up to her lips, and let water splash into her mouth. After two swallows, she tipped her head forward and handed the bottle back to him.

"Thanks," she said softly, and smiled.

[Izzy]

Melody looked at him, almost cautious. Was there something that she wanted to hide? What was it? Mark looked back at her, almost curious as to why she wanted to keep a secret. But he wasn't one to pry, that was rude, and dangerous, seeing as she might react rather badly towards him if he found out.

There was that look again, the little look that bespoke a lot of running around in her brain. He was still curious as to what she was thinking, but Mark kept on going, pulling out bits and bobs as he looked for something to do while the can heated up. It would finish soon, too. Well, might as well do up his gear.

Pushing the aformentioned bits and bobs back into his pack, Mark sat down near Melody and the fire, his rifle pointed away from the two of them as he disassembled the mechanisms inside, puling out firing pins and the bolt, all pieces which he had to put back in. But it was a ritual he was used to, actually. Cleaning and reassembling the weapon, Mark let it slip from his lap and pulled out his knife. A stone was removed from the scabbard, and then given a drip from the canteen.

Scraping it along the length of his blade, Mark huffed out as the spaghetti came to its boil.

"Finally!"

He smiled, triumphant that this meal wasn't spoiled, and gingerly set it down on the ground. Melody was drinking out of the canteen again, taking a long drought of the water. Mark smiled, and went back to his spaghetti, accepting the canteen and taking some water into his own mouth. The liquid rushed down his throat. It felt nice, in fact. He screwed the lid back on, and settled the container down between the two of them. As he was doing that, he wondered what she planned on doing.

Digging his fork into the can, he scooped out a chunk of noodle and slipped it into his mouth. Smiling, he looked into the heart of the fire, his own thoughts wandering to the lonely existence he led out here, compared to what he had back there. A family that couldn't care less if he were to disappear, friends who were so shallow you would barely notice the dip... but there were highlights. His parents were also a rich pair, and the friends were company, and a few were good companions.

"You're welcome, Melody."

Looking out at the sky, he guessed this meal to be dinner. Night was a few hours away.

[brennuh]

"Are you staying the night here?" Melinda suddenly asked, chewing once again on a mouthful of noodles. It wasn't like she had forgotten manners. It was just that here, in the forest, her home, talking with her mouth open did not seem as bad as it would have back in her prestigious mansion with all of its handmaids and butlers and horses with their stable hands. She had long ago forgotten what it was like to stay in a tent, and thought her own 'shack' seemed a lot more comfortable than plastic and rope.

She watched him as he dissembled his gun and wondered what he was thinking about. Maybe about her. Maybe he thought she was pretty. Maybe he didn't. Thinking on instinct, Melinda decided to find out. "What is on your mind?" she asked, suddenly wanting to ask him as many questions as she possibly could. Her voice sounded rough to her. Unused.

Looking around, Melinda realized that she didn't recognize the area they were sitting in. Another bad sign. She would be able to find her makeshift home easily enough. But if it became as dark as quickly as it was now, she would have to leave soon. Or maybe she would stay. She had not yet decided what her plan of action was yet.

She could not kill him, Melinda knew this already. She liked how kind he was being to her. It was a change from the lifestyle she had known for much too long.

[Izzy]

There was a sudden and unexpected question. It took a second for him to recover and answer. What was going through her mind? He was definitely staying the night. And with that, Mark swallowed his food so that his voice could be clear and audible.

"Yeah. Next two or three nights, depending on what I can hunt."

Sometimes, Mark disappeared for weeks, depending on how long his food lasted. That was what so beautiful about summer holidays. But sadly, it was a two week maximum for him. Otherwise they'd be breaking out the heat sensors and helicopters. While his parents didn't really care, they could get booked for negligence, so it wasn't too bad. Well, either way, he was staying for the next few nights.

Another question. Hmm, what was on his mind?

"Thinking about... lots of things. What to do tomorrow, what to do about getting some game and food. I plan to stay out here for a few more days."

He shrugged, the knife slipping back into its sheath. Now that he thought about it, he was probably going to spend a little longer than usual out here. Probably just to spend more time with Melody, too. Give some sanity and civilization in her life. Pulling the can of spaghetti up to his mouth, Mark took in a good forkload of the noodles and the soupy sauce.

Turning to Melody, he finished his mouthful.

"So what's going on in your mind?"

He put the can down, and set his hands on his knees. He was curious, and gave the girl all of his attention. Wait, he digressed. The fire also got some, tossing the few twigs and bits of hardwood into the flames, Mark looked back at Melody.