Scout cautiously closed the fortresses door behind him. The phone call with his ma didn't go well again, and at a time like this, he only had one person on his mind. It was a still and calm night, and the familiar silhouette of a camper stood in the foreground of a sky lit with stars.
It was Snipers favorite type of night, the type that felt like time was standing still. Scout stepped over the gravel and scrawny weeds scattered on the wide battlefield, avoiding dirty puddles and sticks. The open sky seemed to thunder with deafening beauty.
Sniper sat on top of his trademark camper, his slouch hat tilted to cover his eyes. He knew Scout was coming. He could almost feel his approach. No doubt, the boy could never have experienced something like this in the streets of Boston. Sniper was almost glad to see Scout trip and fall in a dirty puddle. Scout was in his world now. His still and silent world of lawless nature and terrifying independence.
That's really why scout was here. Sniper watched him climb up the camper ladder and sit down next to him, dangling his legs over the campers front window. Sniper had a soft sense of sympathy for the boy. The constant clamor of a busy city and loud household left him lonely and screaming for attention.
Sniper put an arm around him and felt Scout nuzzle into his chest. He knew too well how annoying Scout could often seem to their teammates, and the larger problems that stood behind his outcries. He knew scout needed an escape.
And for the time being, everything was fine.