Wapun Meadow no rest for the weary

// @Taylor - set march 20th, directly after in split infinity

           Fortunately, it didn't take a long time for them to reach the meadow Evie had in mind. The overwhelming scent of foxes slowly abated and was replaced by the gentler smells of flowers and fresh air. In all honesty, the brown wolf was a bit surprised Fields had followed him all the way out here - it was a testament to how non-intimidating Evien must be. But he was thankful for it - he wanted to help the taller boy feel better. It was pretty clear he was exhausted, so a nap was priority number one.

          "Here," he announced, taking a deep breath of the fresh air provided by the break in the trees. Evie turned his head back to look at the blond wolf, tail swishing just a bit from side to side. "If you don't sleep enough, your whole body won't work right and you'll get sick." He settled down on the grass, curling his tail around his stiff left leg. Truthfully, he needed to rest as well. "If it's alright with you, I think I might nap as well." Evie gestured with his muzzle to the patch of grass near him, settling his chin on his forepaws and turning expectant green eyes up toward the other boy.

The glade turns to forest turns to a meadow— the very same meadow he had met Merrick in what seemed like forever ago. The memory tears a shiver up his spine like a scythe through a wheat field.
Only this time, there was no blood in his mouth. Only this time, it was Evien with his limp and his green eyes and his pale chin. Taylor jots down his mannerisms in a note pad.
The back and forth motion of his tail.
​It was his left back leg that was bothering him.
​And it was either that his features were rather big for his face or his face was rather small for his features. 
The feeling of being taken care of is so foreign. He's reacting to it like a body reacts to a new fresh transplant. How worker bees react to their queen being replaced. After a few moments of letting this turbulence eat a hole through him, he sits down, tucks his feet under himself. I'll try my best, he says, though he knows that he's likely to fail. There's strange need to apologise and explain to Evien, a guilt which he strangles and buries. 
He closes his eyes.

           Evien was pleased at the other boy simply trying to sleep, but it was becoming more and more apparent that this might be a more mental ailment than a physical one. The brown wolf stayed awake, listening to the other's breathing to gauge if he had actually fallen asleep or not. Light, uneven breaths - never fully asleep. It must be torturous to be stuck in a body that wouldn't let you rest. Not healthy in the slightest.

           His mother hadn't slept much toward the end of their family, he recalled vaguely. 

           It took a great deal of time before Evie decided to do something besides laying down in silence beside the fitfully sleeping Fields. It would help, perhaps, to have someone to lay beside, just for a little while. When things would get difficult back at home, this was what he would do with his grandfather. Perhaps it was concern and naivety working together that drove him to scoot just closer, to where the guard hairs on his flank would brush against Fields' own. An invitation, of sorts, if it would make him feel better. 

When Evien had told him that he needed sleep, Taylor hadn't been expecting for him to be so determined. He was expecting for him to get up and leave sooner or later, and he is at once both pleasantly surprised and frustrated when he shows no signs of getting up. A true medic in the making, he thinks.
Truth was, Taylor had already accepted that he was destined for a life of being awake and being less awake, coming and going in phases. Never truly sleep. He toys with the idea of telling him the real reason.
Then Evien moves closer.
He tenses. Every cell in his body screams at him to turn around, stand up. The sound is unbearable and he jerks himself up to a sitting position. He wonders if Evien can tell how fast his heart is beating. How dilated his pupils are. Already, an apology is forming in his throat. I—I'm sorry. He says, breathless. He closes his eyes and breathes out. Deflates.
That was— that was my fault. I'm sick, Evien. I'm being chased, Evien. What do you do when you're in a game of tag forever, Evien? 

             Evie had not expected such a negative reaction to his approach. He sat up as well, though not as quickly, and forested eyes widened in surprise and concern. He'd overstepped a boundary, he figured, and he'd frightened the other boy - which had certainly not been his intention. Guilt settled heavily in the pit of his stomach and his ears swiveled to the sides of his head as he scanned over Fields' body language. Fear was evident, judging by the size of his pupils and how quickly he was breathing. 
              "No, that was my fault," he remedied quickly, scooting back some to give the other boy some space to catch his breath. "I... my mother was very health-conscious, growing up. I shouldn't have... I overstepped. I'm sorry."
              Sighing, the brown wolf settled down into a half-laying position, still eager to rest but not fully relaxed anymore. Still extremely concerned for his new companion. "I know you don't really know me, or anything, but I want to help," he began, looking back up at the blond. "Do you know why you can't sleep? Do you not feel safe?" It was a simple observation, made from just the boy's body language at the moment. On edge, tense, nervous. There was something wrong.

Looking into Evien's green eyes, he isn't sure of anything. If he's acting anymore, or if this is really him. He tries to reason with himself. Planck can't find me here. Planck is probably dead. So why does he still jerk awake, full of fear and drenched in sweat?
If he had hands, one would be at his temple and the other pinching his nose bridge. Evien's explanation falls off of him like water off a duck's back. Like he'd woken up and had his ears replaced with sieves. 
Evien's questions poke him— they feel like a gun barrel pressing against a kidney, an inner thigh, all the pressure points his brother had hammered into his mind, they all blur together like one giant nerve. It's none of your business, he bristles. But the anger is makeshift, and like any fake emotion, its lifespan is remarkably short.
Fuck. I'm sorry. He gives him a look, bloodshot, one that reads: Do you know what you've gotten into? 
A long pause.
I'm hiding. From someone. he says under his breath, as if the volume of a secret would change the fact that it had been said. The sentence hangs in the air, steams like water being poured over red-hot metal.
If this got him killed, then at least it was Evien who would start that Rube Goldberg machine.

As much as Evie wanted to portray himself as concerned and patient, he was only the former of the two. He didn't bristle like the other boy, but he did arch a brow, entirely nonplussed and unamused by the show of fake aggression. It was an expression that read: "Really?" - and as he'd expected, Fields wasn't truly angry. Honestly, it really wansn't Evie's business, but the little wolf was determined that it would become his business. And it did. He brushed off the apology with a quick shake of his head, much more interested in what the boy was going to say next.

           "I'm hiding. From someone." 

            That... honestly wasn't very surprising. It occurred to Evien that that might be why Fields had such a badass name, too - perhaps it wasn't real, so Taylor would be harder to track down. But he wouldn't question that. Not now. 

            "Okay," he said simply and shrugged his shoulders, sitting up straighter and taking a deep breath. That was fine - good, even. He had something to work with now. "When was the last time you saw the person you're hiding from?" It was important to know, for the purpose of his line of questioning. He hoped Fields wouldn't clam up on him now.

As expected and as hoped, Evien wasn't a part of his brother's merry band of men. Otherwise, Taylor would be incapitated already. The smaller boy doesn't seem surprised, and he thinks that he must be older than he seemed. There was a manner of competence about him that obscured any teenage desperation, and his voice is steady.
Taylor can only be in awe at the sort of people who always know what to respond with, and who can keep a conversation without it veering off into a mushroom-cloud explosion, who know when to sleep and when to laugh and when to cry.
Again, every cell in his body shrieks at him. A month. Maybe more. He won't be very happy when he finds me. A helpless, bitter laugh. It grates at his own ears too. 

A month. He could work with that. Evie took a breath in through his nose and offered a small smile to the other boy, hoping he was at least a bit reassuring. It had to be stressful and scary to have someone chasing you down like that - no wonder Fields couldn't sleep. Poor guy. 

           "I have someone like that, too," he offered, tilting his head to the side. "I don't really know if she's still looking for me, but if she is, I know she won't be happy if she does find me." His mother's manic face popped into his head and he shook the thought away. Memories of her often came with imagery of being sick - of poisoned meals that he didn't know were poisoned. Of smothering. Of making him sick when he wasn't sick. 

            Evien had been afraid at first, after leaving, but as the months went by and the fear ebbed, he became more relaxed and more sure of himself. Maybe Fields could do the same. "If you haven't seen him in a month, what are the odds he'll show up now?" he asked gently, gaze softening. "Right now, you don't have anything to be afraid of. It's a nice day out, everything is quiet, and if someone shows up I'll fight them." He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, entirely bluffing now. Making a joke in an attempt to lighten the situation. "I mean, I know I don't look like much, but..."

The last thing he expects is for Evien to empathize.
By this point, he'd almost forgotten people could do that. The universal human experience here seemed to be that family tended to be shitty. From Merrick, to Ico, and now Evien. Was there a gene for alienation? For being unable to belong? 
Taylor looks up at him. He's transfixed. The meadow around them is breathing, too.
Evien's joke pulls a laugh out of him, but it's not entirely because it's a good joke. Like every person, you'd have to laugh at how helpess you were. If you couldn't laugh, then, there was nothing else to do but be captured. His uncle always told him: the soldiers who don't laugh are usually the first to, you know.
He wants to shake him by the shoulders. Tell him everything. Thanks, Evien, he murmurs, looking away. You're a good person. I'd do the same for you. A thoughtful silence.
What does she look like? She look like you?

In a way, Evie would consider himself lucky. His mother was insane, with no doubt, and what she had done could have killed him at any point in time. But she wasn't outright homicidal, and he wasn't in fear for his life. Not now that he knew not to accept food from her - or anyone, unless he trusted them completely. Maybe not even then. Fields, though, his fear was different, it seemed. It was more visceral, like he was afraid he might be harmed by the person pursuing him. The thought was unpleasant.

           Was Evien a good person? Probably not. But he did have to admit that he liked the way his name sounded when it fell from Fields' maw. 

           "Thank you," he said genuinely, green eyes crinkled in a smile. "She does look kind of like me. Taller," because she stunted his growth, most likely, "and fat. But brown fur and gray eyes. Her name is Murielle." The brown teen tipped his head to the side. "What does your guy look like?"

His brother, Planck, wasn't insane. In fact, Taylor had believed that it was the natural way for an older brother to act until a few months ago. Somewhere along the way he'd realised that Planck's smile, well, it was what thousands of years of evolution had taught us to avoid.
He was also very, very smart, but that was something different.
Murielle was the name of whatever crosshaired scope was pointed at Evien. He gingerly picks the name and appearance up with tongs and stores them in a biohazardous container. He didn't much like the name, nor the appearance.
Taylor pretends to struggle to remember. His brother had the sort of face which branded itself to the inside of your eyelids. Handsome. Taller than me. Real skinny. Reaching back into his memory felt terribly wrong. It was everything he had tried to avoid. Black hair. Black eyes. His face is greying. He doesn't look like me at all. 
He's thankful for that.
If you see him, just run, he explains, still almost whispering. As if his brother could hear all this somehow. If he asks you where I am, then— You know what to do.

Taller than him? Evie wanted to roll his eyes. What the hell was with all these tall wolves? It just wasn't fair. None of the Kastners were particularly big wolves, but Evie was certainly the smallest of the bunch. "I think it's gotta be against some kind of rule to be taller than you," he announced, stretching out on his stomach and rolling to take the weight off of his left hind leg. "Also, I can't run, but good idea. If I see him, I'll just turn and slowly walk the other way." He offered him a smile. There wasn't a chance he would tell him where Fields was. "Murielle won't hurt you, but don't take any food from her." 

           He scanned over Fields, looking over his companion's physique and trying to gauge how he was feeling. "Do you feel any better, talking about it?" he asked, resting his chin on his forepaws. As tense as their conversation had been, he did appreciate being able to rest like this.

The tenseness in his face is evicted by another laugh. Secretly, he envies the other boy's humour, his deft dialogue, which seemed just as witty and light as the rest of him. But also the way people laugh after a rollercoaster, during a scary film, stuck in a grave situation they haven't quite grasped yet— that's also how he's laughing.
She sounds like a bear. Hoarding everything. Getting fat for the winter. That reminds him of something. Merrick's face, his voice, his words, they all crawl out from the woodwork. 
He leans back, supporting himself on his wrists. He feels more like himself. Whatever that meant. Yeah, he says, relieved that it isn't entirely a lie. You don't think there's anything wrong with me, do you? There's a note of pleading in his voice, a stray edge that refuses to be slicked down. He mutely berates himself for it.

Evien gave a snort of laughter at the imagery of his mother as a bear. It seemed fairly accurate, especially with the fierceness in the way she protected and cared for him. That was the one thing his mother did - loved him. Just too much, he supposed. 

           "Yeah, that's pretty good. She was like a mama bear. I like that." It made the picture he had of her turn into something more comical instead of menacing. Like a bubble waiting to be popped instead of prison bars that he couldn't escape from. Humor was actually one of Evie's favorite coping mechanisms, and he was happy Fields seemed to relate.

           The next question took him aback. Brows creased slightly before they smoothed back out and he sat up just a bit. For a moment, he studied Fields - all bright blond and blue eyes and backed by colorful flowers and sunshine - before he spoke. "Apart from you being way too tall, no. I don't think there's anything wrong with you." He knew from experience the effect familial abuse could have on someone. The things it could do to your head. "You can't let him make you think that about yourself, Fields. Taylor. There is nothing wrong with you," he asserted, seeking eye contact with the other boy. "Nothing."

Nothing so ridiculously teenage and desperate— but here he was, selfish and pulling in on himself. Merrick telling him this had not been enough. No, he needed Evien. And then, who would be next? 
You're becoming just like him. The voice in his head, flat and matter-of-fact, returns. Some days, Taylor wishes he could replace all the blood inside of him with someone else's. Didn't matter who it was, just enough for him to forget that he and Planck had come from the same place. Sharing DNA, unfurling and coiling in his cells, multiplying, copying, rebuilding itself.
Like that story. Something about repairing a ship. At some point, with all its boards being replaced, it ceased to be the original ship. But when? That's all I want to know.
He shakes his head. He doesn't matter right now, he says. Just you. His Adam's apple bobs up and down. 
The grass feels cool against his stomach. He turns his head and rests it on his arm. He could almost sleep, right here, right now.

// fade <3

           Teenage hormones sucked. God, they sucked so bad. Heat flooded from his ears to the tips of his toes - if Evie had been a human, he would've been grossly pink with embarrassment. As it was, all he could do was shift where he lay and avert his gaze in the hope that his companion didn't notice just how flustered he was. His grandfather had always said he'd feel this way around girls, and his mother had scoffed and denied the fact. He'd always be her baby, she'd argued. For his part, Evien had never thought he'd feel... anything like that.

            He wasn't sure what to say, but his tail did betray him by thumping twice on the ground they laid on, and soon after he closed his eyes. After this little heart-to-heart, they could both use a good nap.