Both Hunter and I were trying to pretend like there was nothing wrong with Cyrus. As we continued walking, I tried to think of anything except that, but it still plagued my mind. There could have been a perfectly reasonable explanation. I couldn't think of one, but it was still mildly comforting. Something finally came about that distracted me properly; it was the sound of someone crying.

"Please tell me I'm not the only who hears that?" I asked, looking around for the source.

"Hey it's a Witch; we haven't seen one of those for ages. I want to go look at it," Cyrus said. Like me, he couldn't figure out where it was. So, he asked Hunter, "You've got good hearing, where is it?"

"I don't know, but it'd take up time trying to find it, and we need to keep moving, right?" Hunter stammered.

"You're no fun. Fine, if you won't tell me where it is, I'll find it by myself." Cyrus started walking to the left, climbing over the wall around someone's house. Hunter looked to me nervously, and then followed after him. He struggled with getting over the wall, since he was shorter than it. After several failed attempts, he took some steps back, crouched down on the floor and leapt over it.

I couldn't do that, so instead I took a run up at the wall, and jumped at it, just managing to grab onto the top. I pulled myself up, surprisingly easily, and walked along the wall around to the back garden. I spotted Cyrus and Hunter standing in the middle of the road. Cyrus was stood next to the thing that was crying, the Witch, while Hunter kept his distance.

I hadn't actually realised how tall the wall was, until I looked down to the ground as I prepared to jump off it. In retrospect, it would've been easier to just lower myself down to the floor, but that would have been sensible, and instead I jumped off, and landed flat on my face. I lay there for a few seconds, just to catch my breath, and then stood up. I'd badly scratched my hands, and had ripped up the knees of my trousers, as well as my actual knees. I brushed myself off, my only consolation being that I now had the authentic apocalypse appearance.

I jogged over to Cyrus and Hunter, but stopped when Hunter shouted at me to do so, and the Witch started to growl. "If you go anywhere near the Witch, it'll kill you," he informed me. I backed up further, and the Witch resumed its crying.

"Oh, boo-hoo, what are you crying for?" Cyrus asked the Witch. It didn't even look up at him, and he sighed angrily. Even when crouched, he still wasn't at eye level with it, so he sat down on the floor with his legs crossed. "Are you ignoring me?" he asked, and still got no response.

"Just leave it alone, Cyrus," Hunter said, and dared to take a step closer.

"Not until it stops ignoring me." Cyrus poked the Witch, and then stood up again, and put his hands on his hips. I tapped Hunter on the shoulder, and he made a noise of recognition.

"I'm going to get some food from that house, okay?" I pointed the house out, but he continued looking at Cyrus. He nodded, though he was barely acknowledging me. As I walked over to the house, I glanced back to Cyrus. He was still bothering the Witch, generally acting like a spoilt child when someone wasn't paying attention to him.

The door to the house was still open, and I opened it carefully, listening hard, but I couldn't hear anything inside. I made my way to the kitchen, and opened various cupboards until I eventually found three packets of different types of cookies. I took all of them, and put them in the spacious pockets of my jacket. I also grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, because I felt like I should have something healthy.

Just as I was about to leave, I was distracted by a painting on the wall. The scene looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place it. I noticed a signature in the bottom left corner, and saw that it was a painting by one of my old friends, who was an artist. I hadn't seen them for a while, so I didn't know if this was their house, or they'd just sold one of their paintings. I looked closer at the image, and then realised what it was.

It was a painting of a picture that had been taken at a summer camp, which I went to with some of my friends when I was ten. I spotted myself in the background, helping someone up who'd fallen over. I had a vague memory of them, but all I could really remember was that they were a few years older than me, and that we roasted marshmallows together.

My admiration of the art was interrupted by the sound of Hunter shouting. I ran outside, just in time to see Hunter catch Cyrus's hand, as he went to hit the Witch. The two stood frozen, and so did I. The Witch had finally taken notice of them, and its sobs lessened as it looked up at them. Cyrus stared blankly at Hunter, and then shook his head, and tried to take his hand back, but Hunter was still holding onto it. I think he would've stayed holding it, had he not glanced over at me. He let go quickly, and hid his face embarrassedly.

"Hey Rose, where did you go?" Cyrus asked, sounding completely fine. That was what worried me the most. If something had been even slightly different, I could ask him about it, but he acted like nothing was wrong, it seemed as if he didn't know, so asking him would be pointless.

"Oh, I just went to get food," I said. I too was pretending nothing was wrong, because I desperately wanted that to be the truth. Not just because we were so close to being safe, but because I'd grown so fond of the two of them, and I didn't want anything to change. I momentarily wondered about not being evacuated and staying with both of them where we could do what we wanted. It was a tempting thought, but I doubted that either would agree with me. It had all been Cyrus's idea, so I assumed he wouldn't give it up, and Hunter always looked like he wanted to get out of this placed as fast as he could.

I just wish that I knew what I wanted.

I've been unsuccessfully trying to write this chapter for the past few days, and then I somehow managed to write this incredibly easily.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and thanks for reading this. Let me know what you thought of it, if you like. Remember that constructive criticism is always welcome.