Astringent: sharply incisive; pungent
March 13, 1998
The stars winked down at Dean Thomas as he lay on his back on the damp ground. They seemed to hold him in their distant spotlights, a million eyes pinning him there, and it piqued his instinct to run. Dean didn't used to run. He had always preferred to face the things that frightened him, fight over flight. Running away was what cowards did. It was what his dad had done. And there had always been a part of him that hated his father for it, even after he started suspecting the motives behind it.
But now… running was all Dean could do. He'd run just like his father. And he kept running. From shadows in the woods and cloaked figures in the distance. From fireworks and thunderstorms and anything that might get him caught. Dean ran now, and a part of him hated himself for it. But there was no other way to stay alive.
He turned over. The moss, the smell of decaying wood, the rankness of the muddy river, the fumes from a chemical plant churning whose desolate concrete walls glowed in security lights a few miles downstream, the odor cut into his nose and throat, burned his lungs. Reminded him that he was barely hanging on to the fringes of society. He was the prey now. And no matter how cowardly it felt, prey could do little more than run and hide.
He thought about his mother, about the last time he'd seen her, the way she'd hugged him like she knew he wouldn't be there in the morning. Just like his father all those years before. He thought of his sisters and how they'd had no idea. How his stepdad had done everything for Dean and what a repayment this was. He thought of Seamus who'd promised to do everything he could to keep them safe. Dean just hoped he could keep himself safe.
He wasn't running away from them, Dean decided. He was running back to them. All of this was so that one day they would all be back together. He was running towards that. And when two dark figures detached themselves from the shadows on the other side of the river and made to duck the fence at its banks, that thought was what propelled Dean to his feet and sent him sprinting back into the cover of the trees.
A/N: I was just thinking about Dean today and wondering what it was like for him. I really like him and his story. Recently it's quite intrigued me. Also, at this point I'm pretty sure he was still traveling with Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell and the Goblins. Assume they were hiding somewhere close-by in the trees, even though it sounds like Dean was alone. It was just easier not to slip them in. But they were around.
Thank you all so much for your reviews and suggestions! I'll get around to replying to them soon, but there's a book that I've been waiting for for ages that just came out today and I've got to go procrastinate other things to read it right now! :D But you could leave another review and double your chances of hearing from me! :D