Sorry this took so long to upload. I started binge watching OUaT, then of course, Neal Cassidy died and I was left heartbroken. Why do they always have to kill off the characters that least deserve it? Anyway, here's the new chapter. It's a bit boring, bit of a filler chapter. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Please Review.

Chapter 4: Forests and Phone Calls

The first thing Desmond heard was the trickling of a nearby stream and music of birds in the trees over his head. Cracking his eyes open, he could just barely see the orange glow of the sun rise between the branches of the bush he was hiding in. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then stumbled out of the bush, swinging the seabag over his shoulder as he did.

First things first, he had to get out of the Black Hills. The last thing Desmond wanted was to get lost in Black Hills National Park. He had to get to a town or city, preferable Rapid City, which he knew from his dad's information was in the east. He turned at started walking in the direction of the rising sun.

Desmond had been travelling like this for several hours before the silence of the forest was broken by loud voices and stomping footsteps. Quickly, he dove behind a large misshapen boulder, just as two Assassin guards in fatigues crashed through the bushes.

"Jesus Christ, Ron, could you be any louder? The last thing we want is for the kid to hear us and go tearing off," lectured the shorter of the two guards.

"And where the fuck is he going to go? We're in the middle of the fucking woods. I don't know why Bill sent us out here to find the brat. Most likely, he'll come wandering back home in a week with his tail between his legs," Ron complained.

"Whatever you say, man. Either way, keep it down. I don't want to have to chase Desmond all over this forest because you're a fucking hippo," the shorter man said as they stomped through another set of bushes and out of sight.

As Desmond stepped out from behind the boulder, his expression solidified, becoming steely. Ron's comments about Desmond only hardened his resolve to never go back there. To continue on his way and to prove to everyone on the Farm that he could make it on his own. He squared his shoulders in determination, before following the guards confidently into the brush.

"What about US-16? That goes straight to Rapid City, and it's a high traffic highway cause all the tourists take it to get to get to Rushmore."

William Miles and several of his underlings were all surrounding a map covered table in the center of the old sheriff's station, the old jail cells behind them replaced with tv and computer monitors and various kinds of military grade radios.

"No, no. If Desmond learnt anything, he wouldn't take the roads. He'll know we're watching them," Bill responded, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Finally he pointed to a place on the map. "He'll follow the river. He'd have a source of water and food, and the various tributaries lead right to Rapid City."

The old military grade walkie that sat on the table suddenly crackled to life, static hissing in the background.

"Forest One to Base, Forest One to Base, do you copy?" Bill quickly snatched up the walkie, pressing the talk button as he put it to his mouth.

"We copy, what's the situation?"

"Quiet and still, boss. There's no sign of your boy anywhere."

"Damn it!" Bill muttered to himself before putting the walkie to his mouth again. "Alright, head back to base."

"On it, boss."

And with a loud crackling sound as Bill set it back on the table in front of him, the walkie talkie faded into silence. Bill ran a hand down his face in frustration, then leaned forward on the table heavily. A tense silence hung over the entire room for several minutes. It was suddenly broken by the shrill ringing of Bill's blocky Nokia.

"What now?" Bill said as he pulled out his phone, placing it to his ear. "What? Oh, Mr. Stillman, hello."

He was silent for several moments as he listened to what was saying, then let out a slew of very creative curses.

"Understood. Is there anything we can do to help?"

He continued to listen intently, shock and surprise coming over his face upon the request, then nodding and hmming in affirmation. With a quick goodbye, he hung up the phone, sliding it back into his pocket. After a moment, he turned back to the table.

"Okay, what about this?"

Desmond had been following the stream for hours. He was hot and sweaty, despite the coolness of the day. And he was tired, yet he couldn't stop. He had to keep going or else he'd be stuck in the woods forever. Finally he climbed over the crest and the dinkily little stream was flowing into a much larger river.

Desmond sighed with relief, because this meant that he could fish and get some real food, instead of the berries he's been picking off as he's walked. So he spent the next couple hours attempting to catch fish, then cooking the measly little fish that he managed to snag over a tiny crappy fire. It was just enough food to keep him sated, not nearly full or content though. Once finished, he stomped out the fire and started following the river again.

For the next several hours, he continued to follow the river, stopping every once in a while for a drink and to wash the sweat from his face. The sun was just starting to set when the river passed by a gravel access road. Upon seeing it, a large grin split across Desmond's face. A road meant people and people meant civilization.

He followed the road well into the night, the shining moon the only source of light in the pitch blackness. Just as the sun started to rise, he crossed over a ridge to see a small smattering of lights clustered in the valley below.