Thirteen : Stranger
Newt POV
Hunger.
It's like an animal trapped inside you.
It felt like a vicious, gnawing, dull-clawed animal was trying to burrow its way out of my stomach. Distracting, painful, and constant. It made my legs weak, my hands shake, and my mind fuzzy. What I wouldn't give for a huge bowl of Frypans stew…
The small, whittled twigs Minho had carved into sharp points fell apart in my unsteady hands. Creating fish hooks out of the bits of wood had been Thomas' idea. Holding the two small pieces together with string from our blankets wasn't working out so well. I set them down on my lap and inhaled slowly, letting it out in a long sigh. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the stars and fogginess. I dropped my hands into my lap and leaned against the tent wall, watching Minho expertly weave together his hook.
"Give up already?" He smirked, seeing my broken hook. I ignored him and looked over at Thomas on my left. He had already made three, but they didn't look nearly as well put together as Minho's one.
"You can use one of mine." He said and held one out. I took it gratefully, eager to get down to the stream.
Talking with Thomas this morning had helped calm me down more than I realized. But while I now remembered that last night, I still couldn't piece together how we had gotten there. What had happened to our parents, or where they had taken Lizzy.
"We can always make more, let's go." Minho said as he stood suddenly. I shifted out of his way as he headed towards the tent flap and exited the tent. I slowly got to my feet, fighting a wave of dizziness. Thomas' hand rested on my shoulder, his worried eyes watching me.
"I'm alright." I said and followed Minho out. Stars swam in my vision but slowly began to fade. Thomas didn't say anything, just walked next to me.
The freezing morning air woke me up some. It felt like liquid nitrogen was pouring into my lungs with each breath and I felt slightly more energized. Minho reached the end of the tunnel up ahead and took a right turn, disappearing from view. The sun had only just risen and cast its faint light over the forest. A blanket of snow covered everything, icicles hung from any horizontal surface, and our breath hung in the air in thick clouds. Leaving the warmer pocket of air in the bridge, the fierce cold reasserted itself. It seeped through my jeans and shoes, crept up my legs, and froze into a block of ice in my chest. I couldn't help the shivers that began to rattle my bones.
"You have to break the ice here. Ice fishing." Minho's voice came from somewhere below us. Thomas followed the footprints in the snow down the slope and underneath the bridge. A long, straight stream stretched out in front of us, entirely frozen over. Minho crouched by the edge as he smashed a large rock against the icy surface. The echoing cracks of the ice reminded me of the pond. Of how the ice broke and I had fallen through. I absentmindedly rubbed my arms where the multiple cuts were still sore. Thomas crouched down next to Minho as he broke through.
…
Sitting in silence by the edge of a stream for hours in the freezing winter air is not as fun as you'd suspect. After nearly 4 hours, we only had two fish, and both were smaller than the ones Minho had managed to catch last night. I sat in a small patch of frozen dirt I had managed to clear of snow, my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. Thomas sat next to me, his arms resting on his knees as he watched Minho by the edge of the stream. Minho stared fervently into the water, his trembling hands holding the fishing line. He leaned forward ever so slightly, then sighed in disappointment. I leaned my head down onto my knees, closing my eyes. I didn't even care about the fish anymore, I just wanted to go back to the tent and sleep, get warm.
"You alright?" Thomas asked quietly, his hand gently squeezing my shoulder. I shifted so I could see him with one eye. He leaned over and watched me with concern. I blinked hazily, nodded once. "We'll catch more, just wait."
"We could try again tonight, that's when the others were biting more." Minho said and slowly stood. He stretched his arms and legs out, then walked over and sat next to Thomas with a groan. I closed my eyes again.
For the first time, I actually missed the glade. It's stable temperature, the routine supplies, hammocks, Frypans stew, bacon… I hid my face in my knees again, suppressing a wince as my stomach began growling. Slowly, the accompanying dizzy spell passed. I doubted I had ever been so hungry in my life.
"Newt, are you listening?" Minho's voice. I lifted my head and looked over at him and Thomas as both boys stared at me. They had been talking?
"We should get back to the tent." Thomas sighed and slowly got to his feet, knees cracking. He reached a hand down to me and I took it. Every joint ached and I could barely feel my hands anymore. We slowly began hiking up the snowy slope to the bridge. But then a noise made me pause. Running footsteps, panting breath. I stopped and looked towards the trees on my right, my eyes locking onto the movement about 50 feet away from us. It was an animal of some kind, low to the ground and moving fast. Thomas had already pulled out his launcher and was trained onto it. But then I finally registered what I was seeing. A dog. A Husky, actually.
"What the…?" Minho breathed next to me as the dog stopped about 20 feet away from us, planting its feet and staring at us with brilliant, blue eyes. It began barking. Harsh and ear splitting in the silent forest. Panic began welling up in my chest as I realized the dog must belong to someone. And if it was barking at us, it meant they weren't far behind.
"Where's its owner?" Thomas asked slowly, his launcher still locked onto the Husky. Its black and white fur was dusted with snow, and a large, fluffy tail held high over its back. Before I could answer, a man stepped into view where the dog had first appeared. He was jogging towards us in full winter gear. Long black snow pants, a thick yellow coat with a fluffy hood pulled over his head.
"Stop right there!" Minho yelled out, his own launcher now pulled out. The man stopped right away, his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.
"It's alright! I'm just here to get my dog!" The man shouted back and then started slowly walking forward.
"I said don't move!" Minho barked and his tone made the man freeze again. "Who are you?"
"Michael, and this is Shiloh." The man answered carefully, gesturing a hand towards the still barking dog. Thomas and I shared a nervous look. My heart pounded in my chest and the dog's shrill barks ricocheted in my skull.
"Why are you out here?" Minho demanded, taking a step forward.
"I could ask you the same thing." Michael chuckled. His dark eyes roved over each of us and his face softened. "I could help you-"
"We don't need any help, shuckface." Minho interrupted him. "You should just get your dog and march back the way you came." Michael's eyes found mine and he took another slow step forward.
"You look cold," He looked at Thomas. "Those clothes can't be enough. I live in a large cabin just a half mile from here. I can get you some proper supplies, then you can go on your way."
Minho finally broke his stare towards the man and glanced to Thomas. "Is he serious?"
"Why?" Thomas looked towards Michael again. "Why would you help us?"
"Because the world needs a little bit of kindness in it." Michael sighed and lowered his hands to his sides. "I'll go now, but you're welcome to follow me. Shiloh!" He called and the Husky turned on its heel, bounding up to his side. Then, they both began walking back the way they'd come. We all stared after him.
"He could be telling the truth…" Minho whispered and Thomas nodded. "We need food…"
"I know, I know." Thomas looked back at the bridge with our tent, blankets, and firepit. "If things get hairy, we'll just make a run for it back here. No one will bother our things."
"So you're saying we should trust him?" Minho still held his launcher with shivering hands. I started walking after the man and his dog. We didn't have a choice. It was either follow this stranger and hope he was telling the truth, or freeze and starve. I didn't have the energy anymore to debate. Thomas and Minho's slow footsteps behind me told me I was right.