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It was dark. No moonlight was able to shine into the wooden box that had been hastily constructed before nightfall, leaving the group of people inside in near complete darkness after the fire had died down to a smolder. The embers cast small pings of light onto the ground, maybe catching the tip of a shoe or boot, but not much farther.
It wasn’t silent outside the box. Not that entirely quiet, unnerving deafness, but enough to know that anything outside wasn’t interested in the few sounds of sleep leaking through the boarded up door. Comfortable distance, but not absence. A reminder.
There were six bodies huddled in a corner for warmth. Against the better judgment of one member, they had let the fire die to prevent mobs from trying to get in because of the light, leading to this forced proximity. There were five that were peacefully sleeping, breaths even and misting in the cold air. Two of them were hugging each other in sleep, clearly a couple. Another was splayed out on his back, yellow-blue goggles askew and snoring uncomfortably loudly for the situation. Yet another was sitting up against the wall, head dipped down as if she had fallen asleep while staring off into space. The final was curled up against the loud one’s side as if they were already used to the noise. But one of them was awake.
He watched the door, the only feasible way into or out of the structure. He had no real weapon, only the stone sword he kept by his side even as the others around him slept bladeless.
Legundo was awake, because he knew the night was much more dangerous if one was unaware.
He's sat against the wall, sandwiched between the couple to his left—Avid and Marm, they have names, use their names—and Viking, the snoring one, to his right.
He had to keep reminding himself to use their names over vague descriptors in his own mind. He… he didn’t want…
Don’t grow attached. You're going to leave this world for dust in just a hundred days. They’ll be dead before you even realize your time is up.
…use their names. Just use their names.
The cold was its own problem—Legundo was the one that didn’t agree with the fire scenario, but he let it happen after his pleas fell on deaf ears. What was one man supposed to do against the vote of five others? He was panicked to find that none of them had brought extra water bottles, or rations, or any clothes warmer than a sweater. What were they thinking?
He was starting to think he was the only sane one there. A statement and a half for someone as… traveled, as he was. As… paranoid.
…He’d been here before, years ago. A frozen wasteland. Haunted forests. Ghosts and demons and nightmares and eyes everywhere you look. He… he barely made it out alive.
…Did he even make it out alive?
This time… he wasn’t alone. He had others. Avid and Marm. Viking. Apo, sleeping comfortably next to him. Drift, similarly up against the wall like he was himself. Each here for different and eternally confusing reasons. He could hardly believe his eyes when he saw people over the hill he had come from. He’d thought it was some trick, some other hunt he’d have to fight through-
Plains of yellowed grass turned red as the bodies of hunters kept coming and coming and coming no matter how many times he cut them down-
His armor no longer glinting blue or black from the stains and viscera and dents from arrows or shield bashes and spattered with the purple drips from above-
-before seeing that they were… just existing. Wandering and naive. He took the risk to go talk to them. They were friendly. Confused. Completely unprepared. It was the best and most horrific moment of his life.
"So, what’s been the highlight of your life?” What a question to ask, as they dragged him out of the hole he was stuck in for the longest time and the danger and laid him near the fire to get him to warm up. He was shaking and delirious from the cold… so he answered honestly. “So far… It’s when I came over the hill… and then I saw that I wasn’t alone this time…”
He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t alone.
They all acted like he was crazy, but he knew he wasn’t. He just knew the precautions they needed to take, the dangers that lurk, what the environment will steal from them, the many horrors of this reality that they haven't seen yet. They didn't trust him at first. Really, he couldn’t blame them…
“I’m getting a weird vibe from this guy, is he ok?”
“What do you mean- are we an danger?”
“He’s being very negative… we’re just on vacation!”
But he wasn’t alone.
Without really noticing, he took it upon himself to keep them alive. He had to. They had no idea the monsters, the pain, the freezing panic they will feel. This wasn’t a one-off, he’s been here before. They didn’t know how many realities he’s been through, didn't know how this was one of the worst. Yet another repeat. Yet another anomaly. Something was terribly wrong.
…still, he cared. He had been alone for… a decade, maybe more? No company except the ghosts of his memories and the looming gods that puppeteered his journey. He cared. He didn’t want to, he couldn’t- but he did. He loosened the iron grip he had on his heart the smallest bit to keep them alive, and now it was blown wide open. An irreparable mistake. They cared too—even worse. They would want Legundo to sleep… but he didn’t need to. He’s gone days- weeks, without rest. He can do it again. He wouldn't let anything happen. If any of them died…
Legundo glanced over his friends companions again, just… checking. For what, he didn’t know. That they were still there? That they weren't an illusion? That they hadn’t suddenly stopped breathing in their sleep? Legundo took his hand off his sword for a brief moment, but then flinched the second he didn’t have the weight of it in his hand. He returned his hand to its place immediately, gripping it tighter. Why did he ever think he should take his hand off it? He wished he had a shield… or even simple iron armor… but the cold prevented that. Wool for warmth was priority over metal for defense. Instead, he fixed Viking’s goggles with his other hand—to not be pinching his ears to his head. The others should at least have comfortable sleep…
Legundo looked towards the roof of the small shelter they had built, frowning. His hand twitched around the hilt of his sword, as if to draw it, and made up his mind.
I’ll help them, he thought. I’ll help them to learn so once I’m gone they’ll know how to survive. They won’t die on me. They won’t. I won’t let them.
He watched the door until morning.