And here's the first of my book of one-shots and drabbles. This one is set around Clay's stint as leader during 'Time After Time'.
Winters were the worst.
They sat in a huddled mass, shaking and desperately clinging to each other in search of some form of warmth. Kimiko was in the center, partially due to her small stature, but mostly for the natural warmth that radiated from her. Being the Dragon of Fire, even in a situation such as this, did have it's perks for the rest. A small fire was lit, the dancing flames being kept under control with careful focus. The last thing they needed was their shack of a home going up in smoke. Nothing but a calm silence seemed appropriate, as no-one could really find the energy to talk. Raimundo leaned back, his weight propped up on his hands as his dark eyes locked on the heart of the fire that flickered recurrently in the stillness. Jack was curled in on himself, his arms crossed over his knees, his pale face shadowed under the wide brim of the hat pulled low over his ears. They were waiting for the return of Chase Young and his promise of food and warm clothing from the village.
Clay, not content with a spot by the fire, had gone to sit near one of the windows. He stared out into the night, lost in troubled thoughts. He was the leader, he was supposed to protect his team. But there they were, shivering in the cold like lost children. Then again, that's all they were, lost children. Ever since Omi had disappeared... nothing was right. Of course, he had to keep up a strong front, an optomistic outlook. There were always chores to be done, the farm to take care of. But with this sudden cold snap, the prospects were slim.
Absently, Clay blew hot air onto the glass sharply, before using his finger to draw patterns in the mist. The cold didn't bother him that much, not since he had found a sack that he could make into a coat of sorts. He hadn't quite worked out how to do that yet, so it would make do as a blanket for now; maybe he would ask Kimiko for advice in the morning.
As he gazed into the darkness, Clay thought he could spy a small flake of white flutter past the window.
Kimiko yawned as she sat up, rolling her shoulders in an attempt to warm up her tired muscles. A shiver racked her petite frame as she leaned forward, prodding the long since burnt out remains of their fire from last night. They had fallen asleep without even making their way to their pallets, Raimundo and Jack curled around each other in a comically embarrassing way. She smirked; the perfect blackmail to get out of chores. Then her lips pulled into a frown. Clay was out like like a light, his weight pressed against the obviously frigid window. Tough like rocks he was, but he could still catch his death. She sighed, padding up to the cowboy to wake him, when she noticed something through the window.
What Kimiko saw prompted her to run for the door as fast as she could, braving the cold weather to bolt outside. A blanket of white covered everything, and she sunk into the wet coldness up to the tops of her thin boots.
" Oh..."
Her eyes were round with awe at the sight before her. Then she laughed.
" Guys!"
On hearing the Japanese girl shouting, Clay leapt to his feet and followed the sound, followed closely by Raimundo and Jack who had woken and jumped apart with a yelp. En mass they ran, skidding to a halt as the reached where Kimiko was standing, staring out into the open space.
" What in tarnation?"
" Santo balelas!"
" It's beautiful!"
At Jack's exclamation, the four stopped their gaping and looked at each other. Identical grins began to form. They all sprinted across the plain, leaving footprints as they went. They only got a few strides clear of the shack when Jack fell face first into the snow. Raimundo shoved a handful of powder down the back of Kimiko's ratty cardigan. Kimiko chucked a snowball at the Brazillian's face, shrieking and laughing at once. And Clay, he just stood with his eyes closed, catching snowflakes in his hat. Their yells and peels of laughter echoed around the area for hours.
Later that evening, when Chase returned with a rucksack filled with supplies, a heart-warming sight greeted him. The four youngsters huddled together around a fire, but with a rosy tint to their cheeks and smiles on their sleeping faces.
They were children. But maybe they weren't so lost after all.
Translation- Santo balelas: Holy crap.
I like to think that, whenever he's shocked, Raimundo tends to exclaim in Portuguese.
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