Albeit bright, the mid-day sun offered no recourse from the late-season air's biting chill, and it'd quickly become a race against both time and natural elements for Sora to locate the requisite supplies and fashion them into usable hunting tools. The tips of his fingers were soon numb regardless, despite his single-minded focus and the swift pace he'd set for himself.
He'd chosen to fish over the more labor-intensive activity of small game tracking for a number of reasons, one being the creek's proximity. He would also be able to drink his fill while remaining productive, an effective way of tricking his belly into a feeling of fullness, however temporary and long-term insubstantial. Moreover, the stream of water was a relatively closed environment — by simply following the current, Sora could scout for the appropriate natural formation, ideally a small inlet, then manually reroute it from the main flow of water. Once corralled into the smaller space, catching fish would be simpler; with the proper tools, there was a high chance of obtaining enough food to last through the night, perhaps even into the next morning, spirits willing.
Apart from strategizing, Sora had another motive for wanting to fish, one closely associated with the mystery of where Riku had disappeared off to, as well as the worry it was inducing. Fishing involved rudimentary tool-making, of busying himself by fashioning an instrument long enough to make thrusting motions with. While he had a knife already in his possession, it wouldn't be long enough on its own to be able to both observe his intended targets and make controlled jabs to ultimately procure them. The search for proper materials, coupled with the time it took to construct the necessary weapon and seek an ideal location to create his trap, would be more than enough to keep focused on something other than wondering about Riku's current whereabouts.
At least, that's what Sora sincerely hoped.
While there was no shortage of tree branches nearby, finding one that was strong enough not to splinter against the rocky creek bottom presented more of a challenge. Ultimately, the search led him into a deeper part of the forest, where creek water wound its way around various geographic obstacles, sometimes even pooling into a handful of natural ground hollows.
The trees closest to water were most pliable, and Sora eventually settled on one that involved a short climb to reach a branch of an acceptable length. He went to work felling it with a few practiced swipes of his knife. Then, his focus turned to clearing a suitable patch of ground on which to sit, legs crossed and head bowed as he stripped off the branch's exterior bark at one end, making it easier to grip.
The next step involved securing his knife to the opposite side with a strip of leather he unthreaded from his interior coat's mid-section. He tested how securely it was tied through a series of sharp, experimental thrusts down into the hard-packed earth. There was no point in sacrificing the only knife in his possession via poor quality construction, otherwise avoidable if he'd just paid better attention to what he was piecing together in the first place. Now was not an appropriate time for day dreams of any sort, he told himself, a recurring theme in his life of late.
Once done, Sora considered his surroundings, ultimately locating an inlet that seemed suitably sized and of adequate depth. He was quick to launch into the assembly of a barrier strong enough to keep fish from passing through it, as well as able to redirect a portion of the water's downward current. This involved surrendering a coat pocket to the tip of his knife, ultimately dismantling it into a four-cornered swatch of waterproof leather that was long enough to create a makeshift fish impasse.
While he worked, Sora divided his attention between constructing his tools and the sounds that encompassed the area around him. By virtue of well-practiced observation, he was adept at filtering out noises deemed trivial. He ignored the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds, along with sounds associated with smaller animals traversing the spindly branches of forest trees high above him. He knew it was the absence of these sounds that would pose the most problems; where there was none of this subtle, continuous din, there was generally a good chance of the presence of a threat far more immediate to him.
He'd settled on a site near the steep slope of an embankment, the creek having wound itself flush where half-submerged rocks met the muddy boundary of the forest's natural incline. As the water flowed downward, its aqueous path narrowed around several large stones. While most of the creek continued to snake further away from him, a small stream had been redirected into a shallow hollow closer to the side of the forest bank where he was now standing. Rippling with surface movement, the water offered a glimpse of late afternoon sun through the cover of trees, prismatic and sparkling. This was the spot where Sora focused his attention. From there, it was a simple matter of shifting mid-sized rocks and wedging the swatch of leather between the two largest on either bank. The water was shallow, but icy, and not for the first time Sora found himself grateful for foot coverings that were relatively water-resistant.
The leather barrier soon darkened as it soaked through with water. Much to Sora's relief, it held fast against the creek current. He stood nearby taking a moment to savor his handiwork, then headed off in search of the next item he knew he needed. The fish would arrive whether he was present or not. Regardless, he'd done all that he could here for the time being.
He left in search of wood and other debris to build up the fire in anticipation of his return to the rock outcropping later in the day, then gathered as much as he could comfortably carry, before heading back through dense foliage toward his trap. Not yet visible, it was the sound of gurgling water that indicated he was getting closer. It took him a moment longer to realize that, apart from his own muffled footfalls, water was the only forest sound he was currently hearing. Between two unnoticed temporal instances, the forest had grown quiet. As the implications took hold, Sora froze, noting a flash of lightning-quick movement a beat before he caught the indistinct glimpse of a tawny-yellow silhouette.
Cautiously, Sora craned his neck in the direction he'd last seen movement, a hopeful part of his mind offering up the possibility that it might be Roxas while his more logical side warned that this was improbable. The form had been taller, a willowy figure, yellow hair flowing and much longer than his brother's. Searching every crevice of his visual landscape, Sora held his breath, ears straining for even the most subtle of unusual sounds. He'd heard nothing earlier, save for the absence of expected forest noises, but maybe, just possibly, he'd catch something that might help him identify the disconcerting image he'd just seen now that he was specifically looking for it.
Silence though. All around him simply the consistent sound of flowing creek water.
In the name of caution, Sora abandoned the kindling he'd collected, dropping it at his feet as he unlatched his sling. Crouching low, he sought out a few smooth stones. Loading one into the rounded pouch at the end of his weapon, he slipped the others into his most accessible coat pocket. Taking care to retrace his earlier steps, he angled his way back toward the site where he'd set his fish trap.
He traveled on nearly silent feet, one placed cautiously in front of the other, eyes actively scanning the area, ears still listening for anything out of the ordinary. As he approached the site where he'd set his trap, the natural sounds of the forest returned without appreciable transition, as though they'd never been absent in the first place. This put him marginally at ease, allowed him to breathe more freely and wonder if the imagined threat was simply a visual trick induced by the partial cover of sunlight. If a true predator had been near, there would have been more outward and still lingering signs of its presence.
There was clear enough visibility in his current location to note that his belongings remained where he'd left them — what's more, the surface of his chosen inlet was gently swirling with the silvery, telltale shadows of fish within its shallow depths.
Despite his fatigue, Sora smiled.
Returning to the supplies he'd left behind, Sora exchanged his sling for the spear. He held his new weapon in a loose grip in front of him, resting the length of it on both upturned hands to familiarize himself with its weight. Once comfortable with the weapon's dimensions, Sora made his way closer to the inlet, slowing as his underwater obstruction came into view. Crouching on the far side of the water at a spot still beyond the leather barrier, he submerged the tip of his spear, pulled it out, then repeated the action from a different angle.
Each time the spear dipped below the water's surface, he took care to note where it appeared in comparison to the direction he'd initially inserted it. While the spirit Aske was more well-known her unruly nighttime duplicity, even Beiwe had moments of illusory trustworthiness. The angle at which objects warped when placed in bodies of water was one such example with which Sora was amply familiar. It followed, then, that even acquiring fish from a controlled environment necessitated forethought and some level of skill on his part.
That said, the inlet was small, the leather barrier effective at directing much of the water's stream into it. For all intents and purposes, Sora's practice stabs were simply a means to ensure he wouldn't waste already limited time on repeated near-misses. Without the benefit of help from his community, or Riku in the event that he reappeared, virtually every step of the meal-making process seemed destined to fall on him, no matter how fatigued he happened to be, both emotions-wise and physically.
Moving to stand over the inlet, Sora watched the wisps of murky movement below him, raising his spear up to his shoulder, then chose his first target. Each small fish was congregated near the rocky ground bed, about an arms-length deep, tail fins swaying from one side of their serpentine bodies to the other. Occasionally, one drifted toward the inlet's opening, only to reach an unseen threshold where no level of momentum had any further effect on its forward trajectory. Knowing he'd done his job well, Sora's expression brightened further.
His first attempt produced positive results. There was a sense of satisfaction at feeling the pressure of his spear as it connected with pliable bones and flesh an instant before its tip met the rocky inlet floor below it. Trailing the tip of his weapon along the inlet's edges, he pulled up along its muddy wall to ensure his catch wasn't inadvertently dislodged in the wake of its still frantic movements. It emerged in a splash of silvery rivulets, body jerking, as Sora hastened to remove it from his spear tip and stun it with a controlled jab to the head.
He wasn't as successful on attempts two and three, having missed entirely on his second go, merely grazing his target's tale on the third as it darted off to the far corner of the enclosure. Fish two was caught soon after, however, then deposited near the first. A couple more carefully timed thrusts and the remaining two fish soon joined the pair he'd already caught.
By the time he was through, Sora was winded, chest rising and falling, arms aching with their recent exertion. As he lowered himself back to the ground and began the process of disassembling the spear, he couldn't help but eye the result of his efforts and note the unforgiving ache at the pit of his stomach that corresponded with combined proximity to food and his current inability to actually eat it. Once separated, he slipped the knife back into his pocket, repurposing the sinewy string by tying it around all four wriggling fish, then set to work dismantling his barrier. It was cold and waterlogged, would ultimately require hours in front of the fire before returning to anything resembling its former state of fur-lined softness. Under the present circumstances, and with limited supplies at his disposal, he didn't have the luxury to discard potential resources, however.
Wringing it between both cold-numbed hands, thoughts shifting to the return journey to his rock outcropping and the anticipation of soon being able to eat freshly caught fish, Sora didn't initially notice that the forest had grown quiet again, or sense the intensity of malachite eyes watching nearby. He may not have sensed the approaching danger at all, if not for the quietest, subtlest hint of a low-toned rumble.
Hands still fisted around the damp leather swatch, Sora tensed, eyes widening as he scanned his surroundings. The throaty sound returned, along with a quiet snuffle, both noises just distinct enough to direct his gaze to the embankment above him.
For a moment, he saw nothing, the spotted pattern of the creature's coat naturally blending with the sienna and yellow that encompassed the late-season forest foliage around him. It was the blinking of eyes that ultimately caught his attention, deep-set and white-lined on either side of a rounded muzzle. From there, Sora assessed the creature's crouched position, simultaneously processing two pieces of crucial information — this was a wildcat, and its stance implied it was on the offensive.
Much like other animals with which his community co-existed, Sora knew that, of themselves, large cats were nothing to be fearful of. They, like most other animals, were simply a part of the region's wildlife, often observed during his community's travels from one seasonal home to another. The enduring lack of food sometimes made them bolder, but they were still no match for a weapon-clad collective of humans. There was safety in numbers, and few animals were willing to risk approaching armed community members, regardless of whether their traditional role was that of prey or predator.
The true and pressing issue, however, was that Sora didn't have the benefit of his group, couldn't call out for help from nearby reinforcements.
The cat didn't move but was eyeing him keenly, its jowls lifted into the suggestion of a fanged grimace, hackles rising seemingly higher by the second. Keeping an eye on the wildcat above him, Sora performed a quick mental inventory of the weapons he had at his disposal, which ultimately came down to his knife and the sling. Too short range a weapon, he quickly ruled out the knife; unless the cat made a lung toward him, his blade, though sharp, was essentially useless.
The sling, though. The sling might work. Unfortunately for Sora, it remained on the ground a body's length away, where he'd temporarily discarded it in anticipation of using the spear to fish with.
Still mindful of the cat above him, he took a few steps sideways, careful not to rush or make any sudden movements, all the while trying to anticipate warning signs that the animal was preparing to lunge. Above him, it watched with mirrored intensity, and Sora could only hope that its instinctive reticence to attack an unfamiliar opponent would continue to work in his favor.
It wasn't until he'd made it close enough to be able to nudge his sling with a foot that the cat shifted, haunches lowering, what was visible of its over-large paws flexing as claws appeared and then retracted. Sora, too, lowered himself to a crouch but took care to keep the top half of his body upright, free hand ready and able to access his knife.
A warning growl sounded in tandem with a flash of silver on the edge of his peripherals.
A surge of hope rose within him, only to be snuffed by a secondary glance at the bundle of fish to his left. Mostly still, they still occasionally jerked themselves, scales reflecting the late afternoon light. This was what had caught his attention, rather than a timely reappearance on Riku's part.
So too, their sporadic movement brought with it was a distinctive odor, piscine but fresh. And if he was able smell this, Sora realized, so too could the wildcat.
One hand brushed against the familiar edge of his sling, middle finger slipping into a loop at the end of its tethered cord, practically begging him to pull the length of it closer so he could take aim and shoot the rock already nestled in its leather compartment. He'd have only one real chance to scare the creature off. Even at this proximity though, he wasn't confident enough about the accuracy of his aim to risk lobbing it at the cat's head in an attempt to kill or stun it, only to end up completely missing his intended target.
For a pregnant moment, Sora hesitated. He mentally hedged and debated with himself, not wholly confident in his ability to successfully fend off teeth and claws if his aim came up short. Most of all, he tried not to imagine the consequences of an impending miscalculation.
Newfound doubt was quick to overcome more practical thought processes, and Sora allowed himself one last desperate scan of the area in hopes of locating something useful. As though sensing his gaze, the fished jerked again in a demonstrative, silver-tailed flail. This time, something clicked, and Sora let the pieces of his scattered thoughts fall into place and form a solution that had been overlooked in the throes of his initial fight-or-flight panic.
The thrashing movements and distinct scent of live fish — this must have been what'd attracted the animal in the first place, the same hunger he was still experiencing perhaps more than sufficient to encourage a wildcat into boldness uncharacteristic of its species. In the instant after that mental revelation, Sora once again abandoned his attempt to procure the sling, then wasted no time sprinting back over and scooping up the bundle of fish.
Above him, muscles flexed, but the cat remained where it crouched, eyes following the trajectory of his arm as Sora pulled the four fish toward him. The rumble intensified, an inharmonic concert of staccato chittering, and jowls trickling slaver in conjunction with more deep-throated growling. The shifting of weight from one front paw to the other, along with the flattening of ears against a rounded skull, were all telltale signs that the cat was about to pounce. With no time to untie his knot and separate the fish from one another, Sora wound up and threw the entire catch in a high arch up onto the embankment as near to the animal as he could manage.
It landed not far from the cat. What followed were sounds of shuffling, of teeth gnashing, feet pawing as soon as the fish were located. Not waiting to see if the cat was going to circle back to him, Sora snatched up his sling and shoved it in his pocket as he took off running in the direction opposite the wildcat.
Taking a direct route back toward the stone shelter, Sora slowed only when his lungs were aching, chest heaving as he whirled around and tried to quiet his rapid breathing and listen for sounds that implied the cat was in hot pursuit.
Unless it had stopped to watch him, he sensed nothing. Not willing to let his guard down again, Sora kept one hand on his knife, the other hovering over the pocket his sling was in before reaching for it. Once retrieved, he allowed it to swing at his side, an undulation of sinewy leather weighed down on one end by the stone within its pocketed fold. Around him, the sounds of the forest filtered in to him. Although it no longer felt like a guarantee of safety, it remained an enduring assurance that the forest's smaller animals weren't on the alert from an approaching predator.
He stayed in place only long enough to catch his breath, to take another small sip from the half-full bladder still secured to his side, before heading back the way he'd set out from that morning. Eventually, he loosened his grip on the knife, began to stoop and collect anything that even so much as marginally resembled kindling spotted along the path in front of him. It wouldn't make up for the time he'd spent gathering the bundle of strategically chosen branches earlier, but it'd at least be sufficient to keep the fire stoked long enough for him to rest and plan his next steps. He could debate returning for what he'd left behind after he was better rested and thinking more clearly.
It just wouldn't be on the full stomach he'd been anticipating.
It was a discouraging thought, but also one that brought with it a subtle prickle of agitation that grew the closer he got to the rocks. While no stranger to hunger over the past few seasons, Sora had never truly been faced with the prospect outright starving. Cloud had always been a competent leader; when food sources had become sparse, he'd been careful to ration existing food and reallocate responsibilities with an aim toward harvesting additional salt so as to preserve the results of the season's final hunt to take with them on their journey to Winter Home. The strip of jerky Sora'd had in his possession when he and Roxas had set out yesterday was a result of these efforts, the imposed rationing a prime reason he'd been hungry, even irritable, at the time of fraternal separation, if not strictly famished as of yet.
Now, he ran the very real risk of succumbing to a hunger that, once merely a benign irritant, was starting not only to fog his senses but put a damper on the typically unwavering good nature of his inherent demeanor.
As much as Sora tended to hold an optimistic outlook, he was no longer confident that Riku had understood him well enough to follow his earlier instructions and search for edibles. There'd been no sign of the boy since he'd disappeared hours ago. As Sora reached the edge of the forest and stepped out onto the exposed land of the plain, he saw no sign of Riku now either.
There was also no smoke to indicate the fire had been rekindled, not so much as the smallest sense of another nearby human presence.
Still keeping a wary eye on his surroundings, feet lifting only high enough to compel his body a single, laborious step forward at a time, Sora made his way back toward his shelter. Shifting the sticks he'd collected from his hand to the crook of one elbow, he slowly reached up, placing his hand across his chest and over his heart as he continued to trudge onward. There it remained, pressed just firmly enough to feel his token's faint outline. For now, it was enough to know it was still there; Sora felt no current compulsion to take it out and study it.
Born of unconscious habit, there was nothing even latently spiritual about the action at present. Feeling his token didn't invoke thoughts about his encounter with the wildcat, or the objective success of his subsequent escape. It helped form zero auxiliary theories as to where Riku had disappeared, or even about the actions he could take so his situation might marginally improve in the coming hours. Weighed down by an all-encompassing combination of hunger and exhaustion, Sora could only maintain focus on the most essential of actions.
First, he would return to his chosen shelter. Once there, he'd likely rest, perhaps summon enough energy to search nearby for Riku. As it currently stood though, he couldn't fathom doing anything beyond what was pressingly necessary to rebuild the fire. When reduced to such a narrow scope, even more immediate concerns like food and sore muscles dissolved in the face of simple motions, such as one foot forward, then the next overtaking it, and the increasingly indifferent observation that each step was bringing the shelter ever closer.
Even so, the uninspired actions eventually ceded to one foot colliding with abrupt force into a blunt shard of rock where the outcropping rose from the ground. Blinking, Sora paused long enough to glance down, first at his foot, then out to the stone in front of him, suddenly uncertain how he'd managed to arrive at his intended destination without conscious intention. His foot throbbed, a healthy pulse that traveled up the back of an aching calf, which protested in turn every time full weight was put on it, no matter how briefly. In contrast with the lower half of his body, his head felt light, vision sparkling on both sides no matter how slowly he craned his neck to look at his environment, the plain shimmering and swimming before him like a light breeze rippling across the surface of calm water. These were opposing sensations that Sora might have taken time to consider further if circumstances had been different. As it stood, he merely accepted the dichotomy and tried to remember which limb went where as he began to scale the short distance from the ground to the rock ledge he'd discovered the night before.
As he climbed, thoughts briefly turned to his next move. Although common sense urged him to search for Riku, that safety in numbers was a rule which still held despite the challenge in communicating with one another, his body was begging for physical reprieve, practically entreated him to lie down and sleep. Rest in his current state risked grave consequences, his subconscious warned, but it was a quiet reprimand, almost muffled into total irrelevance by the limitations of Sora's physical countenance.
Sleep, then, he decided with resignation. If that was the only way to overcome his immense hunger at this stage of the day, so be it. Using his last reserve of strength, Sora pulled himself up onto the ledge, the second-rate kindling he'd collected on the return journey tumbling to the ground in front of him, not so much as warranting a glance on his part.
Bleary eyes took in the makeshift fire pit. As he'd already guessed, it wasn't even smoldering, the embers black and lifeless.
If that had been the whole of it, Sora would have been content to retreat deeper into the rock's natural fissure, away from Beiwe's heatless late-season sun and the unforgiving, skin-prickling wind that came with it. If that had been all, Sora would surely have succumbed to sleep, indifferent to the knowledge that it may have been his last conscious action in this life.
Instead, Sora stared, not at the fire but off to one side of it. Sora blinked, shook his head, then rubbed his eyes just for the sake of meticulousness. Even after these physical contingencies, there was still a lingering worry that he was out of his mind and simply seeing the necessities his body most longed for.
Because, as Sora stood at the stone shelter's opening, in front of a fire that had long succumbed to wind and cold, he saw salvation staring him back in the form of three sets of eyes, unseeing and opaline. They were set far apart in feathered heads, necks bowed at identical, fatal angles, bodies a swell of modest size, yet still an allusion of nourishment. Laid one beside the other in a line by the fire, they seemed more akin to an offering than sources of food for the likes of an insignificant human.
He looked away, momentarily dazed, expecting to see Riku watching from somewhere nearby.
The space was still empty and silent, void of perceivable life. Cause for concern over the other boy's whereabouts should have been paramount, a quiet mental voice tried to caution him. Nevertheless, as Sora shuffled toward the triad of birds, he allowed mental entry to the smallest spark of hope that maybe, just possibly, his situation wasn't as dire as he'd initially wholeheartedly believed.
o - o
He had nearly finished de-feathering the first bird by the time Riku made an appearance. By then, Sora had been hard at work on meal preparation for close to an hour. Although any food was good food at this point, not all nourishment was created equal when it came time to make suitable for eating. The birds were larger, would more effectively sate gnawing hunger than fish, certainly. Filleting a fish took less time than plucking countless feathers off each bird's body, however — what's more, he didn't have the proper tools at his disposal to make the process easier.
He'd done his best to pluck carefully, grateful their bodies weren't stiff or yet fully frozen in the aftermath of their deaths and the current state of the day's chill temperature. After a prolonged period of picking at feathers, fingers stinging and becoming number by the second, there were times when Sora miscalculated and inadvertently rent apart clammy flesh, or instances where the bird's skin had begun fusing to the roots of individual feathers as the vestiges of its natural body heat vanished.
Long past its apex, the sun was low in the sky, now almost eye level. It was flooding the plains in hues of orange and yellow by the time he looked up and saw movement at the edge of the forest. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for an animal, hesitating behind the last few feet of tree cover. Although hunched, a combination of height and idiosyncratic posture revealed the newcomer's identity, even without the oddity of grey-white hair to supplement.
Fingers stilling, Sora watched as Riku approached, the finer details of his features coming more fully into focus the closer he got. It soon became clear that he was carrying a load of his own, albeit in a manner that was visibly awkward. Rather than using his hands, Riku was employing both forearms to balance what Sora was quick to recognize as the kindling he'd abandoned in the forest clearing in his haste to escape the wildcat.
His initial expression of surprise soon ceded to one of delight. It curved Sora's lips, smile broad enough to make his cheeks ache. The loss of his fire-making supplies was a blow he'd been trying to mentally set aside since his return. As much of a saving grace as this cache of birds was to him, there still remained uncertainty about how he would adequately cook them without the benefit of his carefully selected kindling. A trip back to the forest would take hours. During that time, he would either need to take the birds with him or make the decision to leave them at the shelter. Either posed risks, one of thievery and the other of unseen attack, and Sora had no interest in repeating his encounter with the wildcat, or any other related wildlife that posed a threat to the continuance of his already tenuous existence, for that matter.
By the time Riku appeared at the crevice entrance, unceremoniously dropping what he held and lowering himself into a familiar, stooped position a safe distance away, Sora had suppressed his smile, mindful of the negative reaction it had provoked on earlier occasions. Secretly, he was rejoicing, sending silent thanks to one spirit in particular, savoring the swell of gratitude that had formed in the wake of Riku's return. Close on the heels of that emotion came the knowledge that he wasn't alone in this, even if he'd begun to assume otherwise.
Although he wasn't being looked at directly, a subtle feeling persisted that Riku was studying him out of his peripheral vision. Nevertheless, the giddy sense of happiness lingered, and Sora reached into his coat's chest pocket. Riku followed the hand movement as it traveled from Sora's coat to the stone beside his crossed legs. He carefully placed the little figurine upright between them before both hands returned to his lap and the bird he'd been prepping.
"This is wonderful." At the sound of Sora's voice, Riku glanced up, brows furrowing as if trying to interpret the words. For his part, Sora kept the movement of his hands slow and deliberate as he maintained eye contact. "You must be a very skilled hunter to have caught these without a weapon."
Although Riku didn't smile, his posture transformed in the face of Sora's praise. Sloped shoulders readjusted, then lowered, rounded back lengthened, and the severe incline of his chin upended. It was a carriage that implied pride, even if his expression remained static, mouth a thin line below eyes that seemed to speak untold volumes in a language that Sora couldn't yet comprehend.
For Sora, it was more than satisfactory. He removed the final feathers, glancing between his spiritual token and the work he'd just completed on the plucked bird, noting the similarities between his personal token and the food Riku had procured for them both. He wanted desperately to believe it wasn't a simple coincidence, or dumb luck on Riku's part. Without being able to explain how he'd acquired the birds in a way that Sora could understand, all he could do was hazard unsubstantiated guesses. In that vein, it was always possible Riku had come upon the birds in the same state that they'd been left at their shelter, rather than having proactively hunted and killed them.
Unlikely though, Sora decided. All three birds had identical injuries; if they'd met their collective fates in the jaws of an animal, there'd have been more evidence. Blood and teeth marks. And even if Riku had simply gotten lucky and come upon them by chance, it was still a marker that something powerful was watching over him, perhaps even them both. Despite a lack of otherworldly signs that Sora had personally been able to spot throughout the day, the indisputable truth that Riku had returned not only with food but also with the kindling he'd had to abandon could only mean something positive.
At least, he hoped with all of his being that this was the right way to interpret things.
He employed the same careful slowness with which he'd just spoken to Riku and rose to his feet, making no sudden movements, and stifling the ebullient flurry of limbs to which he was so oft predisposed. Even so, Sora felt wary eyes following him. He stole a quick glance in Riku's direction and noted that the boy's body had returned to its default state of visible tension.
Rather than approaching, Sora sidestepped Riku and made his way to the supplies that had been deposited nearby.
"Thanks for bringing these." His words were murmured, soothing and low, as he began to gather a mix of larger branches and smaller, quicker-burning forest underbrush. "Returning to look for them would've set me back hours."
As he dug further into the bundle of sticks and other assorted kindling, Sora's hand met something stiff but more pliant than wood, an object that had a familiar texture to it, even if still damp with creek water residuum.
"Oh." The word was a breathless exhalation. "You really did find everything."
Drawing the swatch of leather to him, Sora momentarily forgot himself and offered a bright smile.
"Thank you. The meal will be so much easier to make now."
Riku averted his gaze, eyes flickering briefly up, then dropping back to the stone below him before he offered a quick jerk of his chin. Sora watched without pretense, simply pleased to realize he was picking up on Riku's method of communicating, however odd it seemed to someone who'd grown up in a community that was far more reliant on conveying information verbally.
He turned his focus to nurturing the fire back to life, next worked on carving up the first bird into manageable pieces and harvesting any edible organs before arranging them on a flat stone to cook near the fire. Untying his drinking pouch, Sora dribbled a controlled stream of water onto the square of leather Riku had recovered for him. Once wet enough, he wrapped the second bird in it and secured the entire bundle to a larger branch that he could balance above the fire. While he worked, he hummed a simple joik from his childhood, shoulders moving with the subtle intimation of the full-bodied movements his people performed during seasonal rituals to supplement the song's vocal harmonics.
Occasionally, he stole a glance over his shoulder, noting that Riku was still keenly watching him. It didn't particularly bother Sora that he'd been tasked with preparing their meal on his own. Riku was the sole reason he had food to prepare in the first place. The effort required to make it safely edible seemed a fair trade-off.
Allowing the wet leather enough time to steam the contents ensconced within it, Sora removed the second bird and replaced it with the third as he got to work removing more feathers. The steaming process had warmed the bird's stiff body. Its skin with more notice give to it, the feathers pulled away easily and Sora finished it in a quarter of the time it took him to pluck the first. He retrieved the third bird next, removing it from the scrap of leather so he could cool down the latter, then wrap it around one hand and retrieve the cooked pieces of carved bird legs and breast. Arranging them by his side, Sora looked up, then beckoned to Riku with his free hand.
"Hunters eat first."
By now, it seemed clear that simpler sentences were easier for Riku, that commands in particular were understood best. He chose the words of this latest statement with these considerations in mind.
Even so, Riku hesitated, lashes a flutter of apparent bemusement, gaze skirting to both sides of him as though seeking out the person Sora had just addressed.
"I meant you," Sora said with a small smile. "Come and eat."
Although clearly hesitant, Riku rose, shuffled closer, and did as he'd been told.
As Riku ate in the same laborious way that he seemed to approach every task involving the fine motor skills of his hands, Sora turned to the second plucked bird. Stomach rumbling, he made quick work in carving it, then repeated the cooking process as he worked on removing the feathers on the third and final bird.
"We'll take this one with us tomorrow. It should be enough for morning and mid-day meals if we ration carefully."
Riku didn't respond beyond the sounds of teeth crunching indiscriminately against the flesh and bones of the bird that Sora had prepared for him.
Finished plucking, Sora hastily carved the third bird, then rose and sprinted off to a far corner of the shelter's entry. He located a site close enough to the fire to keep even the most daring predators at bay but far enough from it to ensure the meat would freeze if left out overnight. Making a mental note to check up on it before retiring for the evening, he returned to the fire, removed the cooked pieces of bird meat, and started eating.
It tasted plain, was tough to chew and entirely unseasoned, but Sora hardly noticed any of these minor details as he quickly made up for lost time and caught up with Riku in devouring his food. By the time he was three-quarters finished, his stomach wasn't yet full, but it was also no longer aching, and he slowed his pace. Sora knew better than to make himself sick by eating too quickly for an abdomen that wasn't used to being so fully satisfied in the span of a single sitting.
Riku seemed to be heeding the same unspoken rule. Jaw still working its way over what appeared to be a splinter of leg bone, he was now eating more slowly as well, eyes lowered, expression one of vague content. The bowed angle of his head gave Sora pause, if only because it revealed a hint of swollen red beneath the lighter shades of his hair. Swallowing the piece of meat he'd been chewing, Sora shifted, his eyes narrowing in an attempt to get a better view of Riku's injury. Hidden beneath a disheveled fringe of hair, it was just as difficult to get a sense of the gash's severity as it'd been the night before.
"I was wondering…" Sora paused as he considered his words. Nearby, a fresh silence, indication that Riku too had stopped chewing, perhaps to listen. "I want to take a look at your injury." Sora rephrased, this time into something closer to a statement than the open-ended inquiry he'd initially begun to pose.
Pushing himself to his feet, Sora noted that Riku had tensed again. For a moment, the two studied one another, Riku still guarded, Sora more openly relaxed and amicable.
"Stay still."
It went against his nature to adopt such a commanding tone, particularly with respect to peers in his own community. Such authority would be questioned, if not outright physically challenged. The adults more or less encouraged such adolescent power struggles, viewing them as a means of identifying the next crop of potential community leadership. Scuffles had been a common facet of his childhood, even if Sora had no genuine interest in actively leading anyone. Nevertheless, he'd grown adept at identifying when verbal disagreements risked escalating into something more physical, and was prepared to defend himself at any time, against anyone.
But Riku. Riku merely dropped his gaze, the muscles in his neck taut, but elbows locking as he leaned against them and inclined his head to give Sora a better angle at which to view him.
It was a curious response, but Sora didn't stop to consider it further. Making his way toward Riku, Sora came to a stop in front of him. He bent, hands pressed against his thighs for balance as he surveyed what he could see of the injury, which wasn't much. Although no longer as heavily clotted, Riku's hair was matted against his head, the skin of his scalp next to impossible to see with any great measure of detailed accuracy.
"I'm going to touch you, just to move your hair."
Sora's voice remained low, words murmured in an attempt to offer reassurance that he meant Riku no harm, but also leaving no room for the declaration to be countered in any form. When he was greeted with no discernible response, Sora reached out with one hand, fingers brushing against the closest strands of hair in front of him.
Carefully, Sora slid his fingers beneath Riku's hair, then parted it to reveal as much of the relevant section of his scalp as possible.
"It doesn't look too bad." Relief coursed through him. "The spirits must favor you."
Again, no response, just the same rigid posture that'd been adopted earlier.
Done with his inspection, Sora knew he should move. Yet he found himself strangely rooted, fingers still entwined in Riku's hair, for the first time really feeling it against his skin and having the opportunity to study it. It was coarser than he'd expected. Thicker, too, albeit almost silky at the points closest to where the tips of his fingers met skin, not all that dissimilar to the way the fur undercoat felt on his outermost coat.
And the color of it... In the dim light of dusk and soft glow of firelight, the silvery sheen was a visual secondary to a unique combination of earth tones and overcast sky.
A light tremor was working its way up his arm. It took Sora a moment to recognize its origins. Instinctively, Sora hummed a quiet song his mother once sang that always inspired a sense of comfort and safety. At the same time, his fingers moved, palm pressing against the crown of Riku's head, gently unknotting loose tangles at the base of his scalp, softly kneading the skin beneath it.
He'd hoped the soothing action, along with the softly hummed tune, would provide Riku some sense of peace. What Sora hadn't anticipated was the way Riku subsequently leaned into him, tentative but definite, giving him just enough time to check his balance before he felt even more weight against his hand.
Sora's humming quieted in the wake of his surprise, fingers momentarily hesitating before they resumed the tender gesture. It elicited a sigh, Riku's shoulders relaxing beneath the collar of Sora's coat. It was a simple moment of shared comfort in the midst of circumstances that had otherwise only felt threatening, unyielding and relentless as they inspired dismay after repeated dismay.
As he smoothed down strands of silvery hair that still stuck out at the occasional odd angle, Sora noted how gratifying it was to have contact with another human again, however immense their differences. It had only been one day since he'd last seen Roxas and other members of his community. But it had also been the longest he'd been apart from any of them. It was difficult for Sora to reconcile the prospect of long-term isolation that perhaps might even be permanent after a life spent enjoying the constant company of others.
This was probably why he so fiercely yearned to close what remained of the distance between them, likely the reason Sora wanted to lean forward and wrap his arms more firmly around the gaunt shoulders of the boy in front of him. It was also possible the action would be met with flinching rebuke and demolish any progress he'd made in endearing himself to Riku, leaving Sora unsure if the risk was ultimately worth it.
As if in response to his mental parley, a sound issued, distant and low. In a gradual swell it rose, one howl met by a supplemental second, a harmonic third, then more. Collectively mournful, they were performed at a tonal register that made the muscles of Sora's throat tense, and his chest ache with unidentifiable longing. Beneath his hand, Riku turned his head, what remained of his meal long forgotten as eyes lifted, gaze directing itself out past the fire and toward the forest in the distance.
"Don't worry. They won't come near us as long the fire stays strong." Fingers still forging exploratory, parallel paths from Riku's head down to his neck as he spoke with conviction about which he felt internally far less sure, Sora tried to keep his voice steady. It'd do no good to share his fears with Riku. Even if he managed to understand them and share Sora's growing concerns, there would be nothing he could do to allay them or offer comfort beyond his own steadfast presence. "We won't leave here tomorrow until the sun is fully out to guide us."
There was no indication that Riku had heard his comments, let alone fully grasped them, and it was Sora who pulled himself away first, hand reluctantly dropping to his side as he stood. He made his way back to his previous location, lowering himself into a cross-legged position near his food and the fire.
They finished their meal in silence, Riku remaining at the front of the cave even after Sora had retrieved his tokenand moved further into the shelter's interior. Long after Sora curled up and gave in to nagging exhaustion, Riku persisted, profile illuminated by the blaze of glowing embers, strands of hair dancing around his shoulders at the behest of the night's breeze, eyes wide and searching and keenly trained on Aske's spherical form as though passing silent secrets between the open ears of a trusted friend.
o - o
He was already sweltering by the time Riku lowered himself down beside him, his muscles aching, mind a disoriented haze from a full stomach and the abrupt interruption of prior unconsciousness. At first, Sora was unable to reconcile his surroundings, found himself pressing against Riku, seeking comfort and believing with every fiber of his being that it was Roxas who he was sleeping next to.
But the frame behind him was larger, the chin resting against the crook of his shoulder more sharply angular.
Stirring, eyes still closed, Sora extended an arm out into the dark, fingers a subtle flutter of movement, palm blanching as it flexed enough to make the joints in his arm audibly protest. Finding purchase on nothing tangible, a low murmur issued in conjunction with the trembling ripple of a full-body shudder.
So-ra.
The queer, unspoken inflection settled into his mind. Low and throaty, it offered a strange sense of comfort when coupled with the increasing pressure of Riku's chest against each prominent link of his spine.
He wanted to turn and lay claim to it, both of these familiar if oddly uttered syllables. He wished he could curl into himself and bury his face in the soft folds of his outer garment that Riku still wore. But the air already around him felt stifling and humid, physically paralyzing, and he found his body incapable of further movement.
He wanted his mother. He needed to know that Kairi and Tidus and Wakka were sleeping at nearby hearths. Even Cloud's air of ever-present impassiveness would have been sufficient to offer some form of necessary comfort.
But, more than anything, Sora desperately longed for…
"I miss my brother…"
The words were summoned from a dry throat, whispered through cracked lips as a feverish shudder overtook him again, one foot notably inducing more discomfort than the other. Behind him, the rise and fall of another's chest, the heat increasing as the Riku's chin rose from his shoulder, readjusting itself until Sora could feel the caress of his measured breaths against the shell of his ear.
Despite the heat both their bodies were generating, Riku's breath felt refreshingly cool against his flushed skin, a repeated relief with every successive exhalation of air.
I miss my brothers.
Set apart from the realm of the physical, the unearthly tone echoed, unspoken but somehow still comprehensible. The words repeated in Sora's head, fell over themselves in their eagerness to be heard and acknowledged, like the earnest prayers of someone well aware that the spirits were often occupied with other, unrelated undertakings.
It took him longer to realize their two sentences were different, that he was thinking of Roxas but the final word that Riku returned had been offered in plural.
In a rapid fluttering of lashes, Sora's eyes opened. They raced the narrow periphery of stone around them, searching, scrutinizing, not entirely focusing. While dark, the glowing embers of distant fire offered a sliver of light into the inner confines of their shelter. Still, his sight was contentious, the shapes of his surroundings blurred at the edges, mind still slow, thoughts sluggish.
In front of him, a figure materialized, body translucent and stooped in a manner that was almost a trademark of the boy lying behind him. Like Riku, this too was a boy, head inclined, what Sora could see of his features otherwise distinct, with tufted hair a familiar color of disheveled yellow.
Startled, Sora opened his mouth, but found himself at a loss. This was a dream he told himself, lifelike but imaginary, brought on perhaps by the interim state between being asleep and fully awake.
Riku pulled away. They remained lightly touching, but Sora felt the separation as an insurmountable chasm between them. Unbidden, the trembling returned and his thoughts leapt away from the apparition, homing in on the last thing Riku had said, even while his gaze remained fixed on slumped shoulders, a lowered head, and the mess of blond hair in front of him.
"Your brothers?"
My brothers, the voice confirmed. Although still strangely accented, it was assured and smooth. They are coming for me.
In front of him, the figure lifted his chin, and Sora took in a shaky breath.
Roxas.
His expression was curious, eyes starkly calculating. But it was his brother; Sora could be certain about that much. Paralyzed by heat and muscle weakness, no longer able to reach out, his heart clenched, left him momentarily breathless, fingers an ineffectual repetition of seize-and-release wretchedness.
The journey north is long.
Still watching him, Roxas quirked his head, then inclined it once more, as if agreeing with the words vibrating at the very base of Sora's throat. Behind him, he felt Riku tense.
And perilous.
Blue eyes rose, refocused up and over Sora's shoulder. When Roxas next spoke, Sora couldn't discern which of them was his intended audience.
Are you ready to be strong?
In the distance, a doleful howl, indistinguishable as element or animal, and Roxas smiled. There was warmth in the expression but it seemed somehow ineffectual. More inhuman baying, this time accompanied by the sharp sting of wind against exposed skin that left Sora shaking as he pressed chin to chest, eyes downcast, shivers wracking a frame that longstanding hunger had grown markedly thin.
He might have surrendered to unconscious again in his attempt to outlast the howling, unnatural wind, but Sora couldn't be certain. Whatever the case, when he next looked up through bleary eyes, Roxas was gone. Once again, the shelter was quiet, save for Riku's steady breathing and the pulse of his own unsettled heartbeat across both painful, thrumming temples.