Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When he was little, his mom and dad would talk about life before the Great Crumble. 

They’d talk about metal boxes way smaller than the train that could take you anywhere you needed to go and tiny devices that could do just about anything. His mom had handed him her old phone, once, and he could hardly believe such a tiny scrap of metal and glass could contain all the books in the world.

Rusty couldn’t imagine a life where people flocked through their mountain home, coming and going as they pleased. He hadn’t even seen another living person until he was eleven, and even that was only for a day and a half at most.

The world his parents talked about was little more than a fantasy.

A world where ninety percent of the world's population hadn’t been wiped out by a deadly virus. A world where Rusty wouldn’t have needed to learn how to hunt and track to survive. A world where babies were born human. 

His dad used to do the hunting.

He wasn’t very good at it, but he often came home with enough meat to get them through the week if they were careful. For a good thirteen years, it was enough. And then dad took a bad tumble down the stairs and shattered his knee.

Obviously, a shattered knee at the end of the world with no access to health care or medicine was not ideal.

They adapted. 

Rusty had already been shadowing his dad before his fall, so he wasn’t completely helpless. In fact, in a lot of ways Rusty was better. He was smaller, lighter on his feet. Rusty had grown up in the mountains, he knew instinctively how to move around without alerting the entire forest to his presence. 

And, as the years went on, he only got better. Rusty had devised a system of traps that caught them rabbits and the occasional mouse, and he’d fashioned some arrows for an old bow they’d had stored away in the back for when he needed to hunt bigger game.

He didn’t particularly enjoy hunting. It wasn’t fun for him, not like it had been for his dad, it was just something he needed to do to survive. 

Rusty was aware, objectively, that his family was doing far better than average when it came to the end of the world. They’d had a scant few visitors over the years, none that they’d permitted to stay more than a night, and all brought tales of a harsh world.

Neighbours setting each other on fire, people scraping for the chance at living to see the next day - seclusion in the woods, with his loving family and enough food to never go hungry, was hardly a comparable struggle.

So he was fine, mostly.

Rusty took care of the hunting, helped out with the garden they’d built in the back, did his shifts patrolling the property, went to bed and woke up to do it all over again.

Not a bad life at all. 

-

The forest was alive even at dawn, critters scampering around both above and below him, the leaves rustling in the breeze. A cacophony of sounds, Rusty’s light footsteps blending in with it all. 

They’d been running low on dried meat, what with winter just coming to a close and all, so Rusty was out checking their traps for fresh game.

It was still cold out, the icy wind biting against his cheek. Rusty cursed under his breath as another trap turned out empty.

Autumn had been slow. They’d stocked up less than usual before the snow crept in and buried his hunting ground, and now it was still too damn cold to expect rabbits to be hopping about. With one hand adjusting the bow slung across his shoulders, Rusty stood, sighing in frustration before starting his way along the path to the edge of the woods.

It was a long walk, one he’d only ever made a handful of times. But it was near impossible to shoot fowl down in the denser parts of the forest, even if he struck true with his arrow it was just as likely that the bird would get stuck on a branch as it was to fall to the ground - and Rusty really wasn’t in the mood to be climbing trees.

He followed the river, a winding path but blessedly flat, until the trees started to space out a little more evenly at his side. Birds were chirping somewhere in the distance, thank god. 

Rusty slowed down, pulling his bow off around his back and nocking an arrow. He pulled lightly, not fully loading the string back to preserve his strength. The birds were loud, hopefully they were big too, Rusty followed the found until he spotted the first speckled bird sitting on a branch.

Decent sized, he noted, enough to get them through the night until he could hunt for more rabbits tomorrow.

Rusty let out a slow breath, lifting the bow up and drawing his arrow back with practiced ease, his right thumb brushed against the corner of his mouth, he let the arrow fly.

A shrill chirp cut through the air, followed by a dull thud.

He nocked another arrow, keeping still for five breaths just in case another predator was up and about. 

One, the air was still.

Two, Rusty could hear his own heartbeat.

Three, something moved to his right, rustling the shrubbery. Rusty turned and aimed.

Four, silence again.

Five, a cry.

Wait, a cry?

Rusty pulled the arrow back, dropping it down into his quiver before quickly making his way towards the shrubs. The shrubs were still rustling and making soft cooing sounds. He all but forgot about the fallen bird ten paces to the left as he pulled aside the leaves with shaking hands.

Well, shit.

That was a baby.

A sniffling, pouting baby with floppy little ears and tears trailing down its little face.

For a moment, Rusty could do nothing but stare at the child. It couldn’t have been more than a month old, what with its tiny size. It was wrapped up in a ratty old blanket, sheltered by nothing other than the thin foliage.

Then the baby whimpered and all at once Rusty was moving. He darted forward, picking the kid up gingerly with both hands. He remembered reading once that you were supposed to support the head, so he carefully adjusted his hold until the baby was cradled in one arm, the head leaning on his forearm.

Rusty made his way towards the dead bird, pulling his arrow out and replacing it before grabbing it by the legs and tying it to his side as fast as he could with only one hand.

They were roughly three hours out from home, maybe less if Rusty hurried. 

He used his teeth to pull his glove off his right hand, hesitantly bringing his warm fingers to touch the baby’s small face.

Damn. It was freezing.

Now that Rusty was holding the child he could feel the way the little thing was shaking in his arms. He cursed again, walking a little faster as he tried to warm the child up with his palms. His mom used to joke that Rusty was a little space heater, he was thankful for it now as the child gained a little bit more colour.

What kind of asshole left a baby in the forest, at the tail end of winter when it was still liable to snow no less?

His legs were burning, aching at the punishing pace, and there was a pain in his side that probably meant he’d be sore as hell tomorrow. He pushed forwards anyway. Rusty took a moment to thank whatever gods were up there that he didn’t have to hike uphill.

The sun was fully in the sky by now, and for once Rusty was grateful for the heat it provided.

He damn near cried in relief when he heard rushing water.

They were close.

Rusty made his way to the dirt stairs that he and his mom had dug out a couple of years ago, taking two steps at a time as he hurried.

“Rusty?” His mother’s voice carried around the corner as he burst into the front of the shop, “What -”

She froze, staring at the bundle in his arms.

“Um.”

-

“You found a baby? In the forest?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, hand it over and go run a bath. We need to warm this little one up, the poor thing is shaking like a leaf.”

“Will it be okay?”

“I don’t know, dear. Now hurry up, and let your father know you’re home.”

“Right.”

-

The baby - Lily, they’d decided to call her - was okay.

According to his mom she was small, smaller than she ought to be. The poor thing could hardly even work up the energy to cry half the time and Rusty was terrified that she’d pass away some time during the night. 

Who knows how long she’d been left in the wilderness before he’d found her? How long she’d been left in the cold, without anything at all to eat. It was a miracle in and of itself that she didn’t have pneumonia.

She made it through the night, and then the next day, and the next. Rusty didn’t stop fretting until two weeks had passed and she finally started putting on some weight.

Rusty was holding her again, this time he was smiling as she babbled around the top of the bottle he’d prepared for her. He didn’t know where his mother had gotten the powdered milk mixture from, but he was thankful nonetheless.

“Stop laughing and drink your milk.” He huffed out.

“Bleh.” Lily replied, because she was a baby.

“You make a compelling argument,” Rusty reached down and bopped her softly on the nose, laughing lightly when it automatically scrunched up, “but i’m afraid the eating is mandatory, kid.”

Finally, after ten minutes trying to get her to latch on, she started drinking. Rusty sighed in relief.

“You’re not half bad at this whole parenting thing.”

Rusty groaned, turning to shoot his dad the stink eye. “Shut up. I’m eighteen.”

“And I'm forty.” He rolled forward on the wheely chair using his good leg, “Way too young to be a grandpa.”

“Shut up, dad.”

“You better be careful, or she’s going to start picking up those words.”

And, because his father is an ass, he laughed at the horrified face Rusty made at the idea.

His dad didn’t stop laughing for another minute and a half, only really quitting it when Rusty used his foot to push the wheely chair away, sending his father spinning gently into a coat rack.

“Hey!”

-

“Mom! Dad! Come here - look, she's crawling !”

-

“D-Da… Da.”

Rusty blinked, “Did you just -?”

“Dada!”

Rusty reached down and plucked Lily off the floor, spinning her around in the air, “Oh my god, you said: ‘dada’ !”

Lily giggled, reaching her pudgy fingers up to grab his shirt as he brought her close to his chest.

He looked down at her, shifting her weight slightly so that he could free one of his hands. Her right ear had flopped completely to one side and her eyes kept flicking over to the side, trying to figure out how to get it back down. Rusty gently moved it back down.

“I’m your dada.” He said softly.

-

Rusty had never forgotten his first friend, his only friend, really.

It had been a rather memorable occasion, the first time he’d ever met anyone close to his own age. He remembered playing with trains, the glee in Gus’s eyes everytime he pinpointed where Rusty was in the room using only his ears, the way his leg kicked uncontrollably when Rusty scritched his ear.

It was the reason Rusty could never bring himself to take down a deer.

Nearly eleven years later and Rusty still couldn’t stomach the thought of eating something that was part of his friend. 

He was aware that this was flawed logic. He was aware that every animal he’d ever eaten probably had a hybrid child that shared its characteristics. But he’d never met another animal hybrid. And his first friend had been a deer kid, his daughter - because that’s what Lily was - was a deer kid.

So yeah, venison was no longer on the menu for his family.

Nowadays Rusty thought of Gus more than ever.

Everytime he shut the lights off and jumped because Lily’s eyes were glowing , he remembered his parents freaking out quietly while he tried not to giggle. When Lily’s ears twitched up and down he thought back to Gus and the way his ears practically broadcasted his emotions. 

The first time he saw Lily roll to her feet and take her first step forward with a ridiculous amount of balance he remembered the way Gus never seemed to trip or stumble.

God, he saw so much of Gus in Lily.

He wondered where Gus was now. Wondered if he ever made it to Colorado, ever found his mom. Rusty absolutely refused to consider a scenario where Gus wasn’t out there somewhere - eating way too much Candy and being way too earnest.

Rusty wondered if he was still travelling around with Jeppard or if he’d settled down somewhere far away.

He pretended that he didn’t hope to run into his friend everytime he stepped out into the forest.

Lily was almost two, by his dodgy calculations, the first time he brought her with him on a hunt. Well, not really a hunt. He’d strapped her to his chest and checked only the nearest traps for rabbits. She was nocturnal, wouldn’t sleep a wink for the early hours of the morning, so he’d either take her with him or deal with her sneaking out by herself.

After checking the traps - all empty except for one - and dropping the meat back near the kitchen so his dad could skin and store the meat, Rusty would take her out to the garden and help out with watering and checking the plants. 

He gave Lily the all important task of weeding, which she gleefully took to with all the enthusiasm of a toddler who wanted desperately to destroy things.

Thankfully, allowing Lily free reign with the weeds in the garden seemed to mitigate most of the symptoms of the ‘terrible twos’. Whenever she got cranky, he just sort of let her take it out on some plants. Plucking her out of the plant boxes an hour later and significantly calmer.

His dad thought it was a rather creative way to deal with tantrums, his mom said he was ridiculous.

Rusty took that as a win.

-

When Lily turned three (They’d decided to use the date Rusty found her as her birthday) Rusty made a cake.

He’d also made all of Lily’s favourite food and the three of them had crowded around the little girl to sing happy birthday before she blew out the candles on the, admittedly lumpy, cake. His mom had put on some music and Rusty had taken Lily’s hands, placing her little feet on top of his and dancing with her across the room. His mom had perched herself on his dad's lap, and together they spun around in circles. Everyone laughed when the chair tipped backwards and spilled the both of them onto the hard wood floor.

It was a good night.

Three days later, a man stumbled in through their door, falling into his mother’s arms before she could even recognise the danger.

The man’s finger shook.

-

Rusty, it turned out, was immune.

He knew this because two weeks after the man showed up he was burying his parents.

Lily, despite being bright for her age, didn’t understand death. He choked up everytime she asked when ‘gramma and grampa’ were coming home.

Everytime he passed his parents' room, the blankets were still creased and sweaty because he couldn’t bring himself to touch it, Rusty had to lean against the wall for support. He’d never seen anyone with the sick before. It had always just been a sort of boogeyman in the dark for him.

But watching his parents succumb to it broke something in him, just a little. 

There was a point, a week in, where he’d almost wanted them both to die - just so they could stop suffering. In the end he’d lost his parents four days before they died. That’s when they stopped responding, stopped giving him tired smiles and whispering their love to both him and Lily.

It took everything in Rusty to keep going after he’d laid them in their graves.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Lily flower?”

“Look what I found!”

Rusty turned and his stomach dropped.

The problem with his life seemed to be that everything was very fine for a very long time, and then quickly and all at once things went horribly wrong. Because his daughter was holding a goddamn pink ribbon.

Shit.

-

He didn’t know if it was connected, the sick man and last men finding them. Maybe it was a premeditated attack, someone’s shitty idea of biological warfare designed to weaken their defenses before the last men moved in. Or maybe it was just supremely bad luck.

It didn’t really matter either way, because they had to leave. Now. 

Of course, Lily picked that exact moment to be fussy for the first time in months.

“Do we have to leave?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I know, Lily flower, I don’t want to either.”

“Then why are we going?”

Rusty sighed. Part of him wanted to shield her, keep her innocent of the knowledge that a large portion of the outside world wanted her dead for no other reason than being born. But they were coming and Lily needed to know if she was going to survive.

“Bad people know we’re here. And if they find us…”

“What?”

“Lily, if they find us they’ll take you away.”

“But I don’t want to go away.” She stomped her foot on the ground, crossing her arms around her chest with her ears drooped so low they were practically invisible under her blonde hair.

“I know you don’t.” Rusty dropped the can he was holding onto the bed, turning to face her. “And that’s why we have to hide. Home isn’t safe anymore.”

Lily pouted.

“Go pack what you want to take, Lily. Remember: nothing more than you can carry.”

Lily filled her tiny bag with nothing but toys and her favourite blanket, just like Rusty had accurately predicted she would, which was why a good portion of her wardrobe was already in Rusty’s bag.

By mid-afternoon the same day Rusty had managed to pack the most important parts of his life into one heavy bag.

He’d taken as much food as he could carry, three changes of clothes including the ones he was wearing now, a small collection of yarn and strings to darn their clothing, the family photo album, a sleeping mat, rope, his quiver, and his bow.

“Are you ready to go, Lily flower?”

“No.”

Rusty sighed.

Yeah, he wasn’t ready either.

-

Hours later, through the steadily dimming sky, Rusty could make out steady plumes of black smoke filling the sky.

He paused, thankful that Lily was fast asleep on his hip, and solemnly watched the confirmation that the life he knew had just been burned to ashes.

Chapter Text

“Why am I the distraction?”

“Because I spent the last two days studying the layout of their base.” She looked him up and down once, “And you’ve been shot in the chest.”

“I’m strong enough.”

Aimee scoffed, darting forward to press her palm into his shoulder. Immediately, he all but crumpled back onto her couch.

“Strong enough, huh?”

Jeppard groaned in response.

“Look, I’m smaller - I blend in better. The kids know my scent, they’ll know what to do the second they smell me. The best plan is that I go alone.”

“But Gus -”

“I will get your boy.” Aimee reached forward again, placing her hand over his, this time to reassure. “You said he talks? If they are being held together my daughter will have explained who I am. I promise you, I will not leave without him.”

A moment of silence.

“Fine.”

-

Jeppard, injured as he was, proved to be a wonderful distraction.

Aimee knew of him, vaguely. A star football player before the Great Crumble. She’d never seen him in action, but she imagined he’d cause just as much damage now as he did in his games. She’d handed him all the ammunition she had barring the small stash she planned to take with her, pressing the last of her fireworks into his hands and teaching him how to light it properly.

They needed to move fast. There was no time for elaborate schemes and back up plans. Every moment her kids were in that base was a moment they were in danger.

She’d snuck as close as possible to the base, keeping an eye on the two guards she knew were watching the back entrance.

Crouched beside a tree, Aimee waited for the signal.

Five minutes later, the sound of shattering glass and screaming filtered through the air. The guards said something into their radios, dithering for a moment before abandoning their post and moving towards the action.

Aimee didn’t bother suppressing her smirk.

The door was open, thank god, and she slipped inside with her gun held up in front of her.

On her journey through the labyrinth of a building, Aimee had to kill seven people.

There was a part of her, the soft part that still hung onto who she was before it all, that hated it. She hated pulling the trigger and ending a life. Every single time. But there was another part. The protective, vicious part of her that had sprung into existence the second she’d picked Wendy up all those years ago.

These people murdered children for a living.

These people aided and abetted in the abduction of her children, they would sooner see them tortured and dead before letting them go free.

Aimee suffocated the soft part of her with every bit of loathing she felt for them.

She moved into a room.

Well, a sad imitation of a room. It was little more than four tarps thrown up around a medical table.

It took Aimee three seconds of staring at the blood stained metal to connect the dots.

One, or more - god how many of her kids had they gone through already - was dead. Aimee choked on air, the tightness in her chest pulling so hard she thought her heart might burst from the pressure.

Movement to the left.

Aimee turned, her gun now aimed at a panicked Indian man in a lab coat.

“Wait - wait, wait, wait. Please don’t shoot.”

Aimee’s eyes flickered behind him, to a small, yellow jar containing the brain of one of her kids. She wanted to scream.

“You -” She swallowed, “You did this?”

“I - yes. But please - it was for a cure, we had to -”

“Who?”

The doctor blinked, “What?”

“ Who ?” Amiee gritted out, “Who did you kill?”

“The um - the Lizard kid.”

“Anthony.” Amiee said softly.

“What?” The doctor said again.

“His name was Anthony.” Amiee blinked away a tear and used her gun to gesture to the jar, “You killed him. You should know his name.”

“I’m sorry.”

And that made Aimee laugh - a bitter, cracking sound. Because it really sounded like he was. Sorry that he’d done it, but not sorry enough to wish he hadn’t.

“He has - had a brother.” She said after a moment, “They’re the only hybrid siblings I’ve ever seen. When they first came to me I could hardly ever get Toby off his arm. Anthony even learned to sign with one arm.”

The doctor blinked.

“To - to sign?”

“Yeah, yeah most of the kids were slow with speech. It’s what happens when you hunt children their entire lives.” Aimee couldn’t stop staring at the Jar. Wasn’t it just two days ago that Anthony was trying to teach her how to climb trees like him? She swallowed and shook her head slightly. “They liked ASL better.”

“Oh.” The doctor muttered, she watched as his hands twitched, twisting the fabric of his own coat, “I’m - I am sorry. But please try to understand: my wife - she’s sick. If I don’t figure this out - If I can’t find a cure… she’ll. I can’t let her die. I have to find the answer.”

Aimee nodded, “And how many of my kids were you going to kill to do that?”

He hung his head. It didn’t matter, she knew the answer.

As many as it took.

“Yeah,” She said, “That’s what I thought.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again, like it was all he could offer her.

“I don’t care. Take me to my kids.”

-

Wendy is the first into her arms when the door opens.

Or, more accurately, the first to barrel into her chest while she kept her gun aimed at the nervous doctor. Wendy was quickly followed by almost twenty other chittering bodies.

“Hello kids.” She says softly, allowing them one more moment before she shifts them off her, “Come on, we have to go.”

She paused.

“Where’s Gus?”

“Um - Here.” A boy, older than any other hybrid she’d ever seen, stepped forward and raised one timid hand into the air, “Are you their mom?”

“Yes.” Aimee answered, “Your - uh - your Jepperd is waiting for you.”

Gus’s entire face lit up, his ears flickering up and down with excitement.

“Big man is okay?”

Okay, Big man must be Jepperd. Aimee nodded. “He’s fine. He should be waiting for us.”

Gus nodded happily and she smiled slightly at the boy before turning back to the doctor.

“You, stay here.”

“You - you’re not going to kill me?”

“No.” Aimee motioned for the kids to go back the way she came. Wendy took her cue, leading the rest of them away. She waited until they were mostly out of hearing range to say, “I am not going to kill you. You’re a good man, I can see it in your eyes.”

“I - I,” the doctor stammered.

Aimee cut him off before he could form a coherent response, “You will stay here and live with what you have done. I don’t know if your wife is still alive, and even if she is - I doubt she will remain that way for long.”

She let her gun drop slightly, walking backwards to follow her children down the hallway. Before she turned and pushed through the tarps Aimee paused, looking the doctor in his eyes.

“You can live the rest of your life, alone, with the knowledge that you killed a boy for nothing .”

-

“Big man!”

Jeppard spun around just fast enough to catch the flying ball of deer child as Gus hurled himself into his arms. The impact hurt, jostling both old wounds and the fifteen new ones he’d acquired in the day and a half they’d been separated. Jeppard found he didn’t really give a fuck and hugged Gus closer.

“Little man,” He said after a moment, “are you okay?”

Gus nodded, throwing one happy little look over his shoulder at the other hybrid kids before scrunching his nose up. He sniffed once, twice, and then narrowed his eyes at Jeppards chest.

“You’re not okay.”

“I’ll live, kid.”

Thankfully, Gus seemed to accept that. “Okay. Where’s Bear?”

“Bear’s fine.” He said, hoping to god that the teenager was still where he left her two days ago, “We’ll swing by the house to pick her up before we go… wherever we’re going.”

“Okay. Do you wanna meet my friends?”

Jeppard huffed out a laugh. Of course Gus had managed to make friends while being held captive.

“Sure, kid.”

-

Bear came running out the house the second they set foot on the driveway.

“Gus, Jeppard! You won’t believe what happened!”

-

Okay.

Okay so they’d actually done it. They’d found Gus’ mother.

Okay.

Jeppard spent the next four days trying to pretend he wasn’t having a mental breakdown over the fact that, for all intents and purposes, they’d done the impossible. 

Gus’ mother was alive. Gus was a genetic experiment and very likely had a hand in starting the apocalypse. Gus’ mother was alive and in fucking Antarctica. Jeppard had somehow wound up co-parenting roughly thirty hybrid children with an ex-psychologist, an ex-scientist, and a teenage girl.

The ex-psychologist had somehow managed to adopt Bear’s long lost sister.

Gus was sitting three meters to his left on a log and talking to his mother, who was in fucking Antarctica, and he’d just asked her what her favourite flower was.

Okay.

He needed a fucking drink.

-

They ended up walking for six days.

Every sound and unknown footfall made the kids jump, they’d huddle over one another and chitter in fear. Jeppard got used to finding a wide eyed hybrid child gripping onto his sweater at random moments. 

He didn’t even know how he’d gotten here.

A month ago he was alone in the world. A week ago he was maybe coming to terms with the fact that he had a soft spot for the deer kid that wouldn’t leave him the hell alone. And now he was trekking through the woods, the pain from the gunshot wounds hurting enough to drown out the dull ache of his old knee wound, and he had people to protect.

“Are we there yet?” Gus said, and Jeppard almost chuckled at the familiarity of the question.

“Kid, we don’t even know where the hell we’re going.”

“But I’m tired .”

“I know, Little man.”

At night, Jeppard didn’t sleep. 

He couldn’t, too paranoid that they’d been followed or tracked. He’d sit up, staring at the fire. Letting Aimee teach him sign language and practicing with the nocturnal kids. 

“Do you think they’re coming after us?” Aimee said one night. Jeppard knew she didn’t sleep much either. He was pretty sure that whenever she did, it wasn’t restful.

“Maybe.” Jeppard sighed into the dark, “I don’t know. I did a lot of damage, maybe it’s enough to slow them down.”

“I got some of the kids to cover our tracks.”

“Smart.” He hummed, “They’d smell them, right? The kids would be able to tell if they were close.”

Aimee nodded, “Doesn’t calm you down at all, though, does it?”

“Not even a little.”

-

On the six day mark, they came across a clearing, a little ways up a hill and near a stream.

Jeppard looked at Aimee, then at Gladys and Bear who’d already set their bags down to take a sip from the stream with the kids.

This was it.

-

Setting up camp was time consuming if not particularly difficult. 

Bear had almost cried in relief when they’d set their bags down and declared that they’d stay. She wasn’t particularly a stranger to long days and blistered feet, but she’d never enjoyed the ache.

The first night at camp they’d slept under the stars, too tired to attempt to set up a proper shelter. Bear slept next to Aimee, as she’d taken to doing these past few days, so that Wendy - her sister! - could curl up between the two of them.

She’d been so nervous, terrified really that the sister she’d searched for for most of her life would hate her. That first moment she’d caught sight of Wendy, walking beside two dozen other hybrid kids, her heart had frozen in her chest.

Wendy had looked at her, tilted her head to the side and sniffed the air.

“I know you.” Wendy said, “Why do I know you?”

Bear had broken down crying, managing to blabber out an explanation between sniffles.

Wendy had just smiled easily, stepping forward and latching onto Bear’s torso. The girl hadn’t let her go far since - not that Bear would want to go anywhere.

She’d spent the last week getting to know her sister, along with her adoptive mother and twenty new siblings. Bear learnt that someone had managed to smuggle Wendy out of the last men’s grasp and left her near the old zoo, where Aimee had found her and taken her in. She learnt that Wendy’s favourite colour was purple, and that she couldn’t see in the dark. She found out that Wendy loved to cook, but she despised gardening with a passion. 

It was amazing, unbelievable really.

The day after they’d decided on a location for camp Wendy trailed after her as she helped set up nest like shelters in the trees. 

It was the same design she’d used for the animal army. A sturdy, sequre shelter made of reinforced woven branches that kept them both off the forest floor and insulated against the cold. 

She’d come up with it herself, after months of pouring over survival books and nature documentaries she’d found in the public library. 

The first few nests had come crashing down to the ground. Sometimes they’d fall the second she’d turned her back, other time’s they’d seem solid enough to lull them all into a false sense of security before dropping to the ground with people still inside.

Eventually, through trial-and-error and many sprained ankles, they’d figured out a method that actually worked.

Jeppard was a huge help, able to single handedly hold up the base planks of wood that had required four separate kids back in the animal army. Dina and Archie - a squirrel and magpie hybrid respectively - were hopping around and through the base planks, weaving in branches and a clay mixture that Wendy and Bear were busy mixing out.

It took them four hours to pull one nest together, another hour to work out a pulley system that could hold the entire nest into the trees, and then a final two hours to secure the nest to the trunk.

“Right.” Bear huffed when they’d finally finished, “Who can fly?”

Next to her, Wendy translated the words to sign.

Archie and Lenny (an owl hybrid) put their hands up.

“Perfect,” She turned to Wendy, “tell them to fly up there and bounce on the top of the nest to check if it’s secure.”

Ten minutes of stomping later, Bear was instructing Dina through stilted sign language on how to attach a ladder beneath the nest so the less climbing inclined kids could still get up.

By the time they’d finished, Bear was ready to sleep for a week straight.

Jeppard sat down beside her, huffing and puffing in exertion, “One done,” He said, “Twenty eight more to go.”

Bear let herself flop backwards onto the flood and groaned.

-

Gus was tired. 

His hands hurt, his feet were sore, and he was really, really hungry.

But he was also the happiest he’d been since Pubba was with him.

He had friends. Big man was alive and with him and he had so many friends that were like him. Wendy and Bobby were the only ones that spoke to him. Wendy said it was because they were still learning how to, so that was okay, he could learn ‘sign language’ to speak to them instead.

Building nests was fun too. Wendy and some of the other kids got to mix up a weird mixture of clay and water and sand and something else all together. Then Big man would hold up some pieces of wood and the rest of them got to put branches in between the wood and slap on some clay.

It was hot, exhausting work. But it was fun.

And, when the sun went down for them, Gus got to call his mom.

His mom was in Antarctica because she was an important scientist doing very important work. She tried to explain it to Gus once, but it was complicated - something about pions and ice and crystals. 

He’d been really mad at first, at his mom and at pubba. But Bear and Wendy were the same as him. 

They weren’t blood family, but Bear still looked for Wendy for forever. 

Pubba wasn’t blood family, but he’d taken care of Gus and he’d loved him. His mom loved him too, even when she thought he was gone.

So he allowed himself to let go of the anger and focussed on what he had.

He had Big Man and Bear, he had his friends, he had Aimee and Gladys, he had his mom, he had warm days building nests and a cool stream full of fresh water. 

Aimee, Wendy’s mom, and Gladys spent the days getting the land ready to plant crops. Bobby helped out there too, he was really good at getting seeds underground - even if he ate them sometimes.

It was still early, none of the seeds had turned into food yet, so they only ate nuts and berries that came from nearby trees and bushes. It wasn’t enough, Gus was hungry. Everyone else was hungry too. But they were all trying not to complain, because they’d all rather be hungry than with the last men.

Sign language was hard. The words didn’t go in the same order with his hands than when he spoke them. And Wendy kept giggling because he accidentally said a bad word when he was just trying to say thank you. 

Mike was a dog hybrid. Besides Wendy and Bobby, he was the best at talking. So they spent a lot of time together, Gus would try to sign everything he said, and Mike would try to say everything he signed. It was pretty fun.

It took twenty days to get all the nests put up in the trees, and by that point the garden was all ready and planted, so they just had to give the seeds time to get big.

Big man was still scared of the last men, so was Aimee. All the kids stopped jumping at sounds after a few days, but Big man and Aimee were still scared. They all knew it. The grownups thought they were good at hiding things, but Gus could hear their hearts jump in their chests.

It was okay, though. Because they were far away and even when the wind was going in the right direction Gus couldn’t smell a single last men.

So, for right now, they were safe.

-

“Mom?”

“Gus, I’m going to try to come home.”

“Really? But aren’t you, like, really far away.”

“Yeah - yes. It will take some time, but I’m on my way.”

“Will you still call me?”

“Every day, kiddo.”

“Will you be safe?”

“As safe as I can be.”

“Mom?”

“Yes, Gus?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-

It was the first time he’d ever told her he loved her.

-

In the end it took three years for his mom to make it home.

She had to move slowly, because she was taking something very important with her, but she came as fast as she could. 

In the meantime, Gus grew up.

They all grew up.

He was taller then he used to be, taller than Bear was even. Wendy kicked him in the shin anytime he pointed out that he was also taller than her, so he tried to avoid doing that. Big man was still way taller than him, but that was because Big man was taller than everybody .

The week after Gus turned twelve, Aimee and Big man had taken him out to a nearby lake, sat him down and given him the talk.

Gus was still pretending it hadn’t really happened.

Every now and then Aimee would get a call on her own radio, and then she’d leave camp for a day or two and return with another hybrid child.

Big man didn’t like to walk a lot anymore, but everytime Aimee left camp she’d come back with some of his special candy and then he’d be up and about for a couple of weeks before eventually migrating back to his designated stump and his pair of sturdy crutches.

Bear also left, once, she’d been gone for two weeks and everyone - especially Wendy - had been worried to death. She’d waltzed back into camp with seven other not-quite teenagers dressed in animal regalia and a bright smile Gus hadn’t seen since before they left the animal army.

It became commonplace to just build a new nest every few weeks in anticipation for the next member of their little colony. As they all got older, it became easier and quicker to get the nests together - especially since Bear’s friends were there to help now.

And so, when Gus’ mom finally stumbled into camp, there was a large, empty nest waiting for her.

It had been three in the morning and Humming-bird, one of Bear’s, almost stabbed her. 

Luckily, she’d managed to call out her name before the knife hit true and the commotion was enough to wake half the camp, Gus included.

“Mom?” He’d said, sticking his head out the door to his nest.

“Gus?” Her head snapped up to follow the sound of his voice. “Gus, where are you?”

“Mom!” Gus all but flung himself out of the nest and down the ladder, “Mom! Mom, I’m here!”

She placed whatever she was holding on the ground, holding out her arms to him, and he didn’t hesitate to throw himself into her. In fact, he may have been a bit too liberal with the throwing of his body, because one of his antlers knocked her right on the nose.

“Sorry!”

His mom, Birdy, just laughed, “It’s okay, baby.” She held onto his shoulder with one hand, using the other to cup his cheek gently, “Oh,” She ran her hand over his ear, making it flutter, “Look at you, all grown up.”

“I’m not grown up yet, Big man says I’m still gonna get taller.”

“Well,” his mom said, “Big man is probably right. Now, do you want to introduce me to everyone?”

“Yeah! Come on!”

-

Gus did, in fact, get taller. 

He got tall enough that the top of his antlers reached Big man’s forehead.

Wendy never stopped kicking him in the shin.

-

Once, Aimee had gotten a call.

She’d packed her bags, kissed every single one of them on the forehead, and set off up stream following water. She’d been gone three days and, for the only time Gus could remember, returned empty handed.

-

Gus’s first kiss was Wendy.

He was fourteen and she was thirteen. 

It was a warm summer night and almost everyone except the nocturnal kids had gone to bed. She’d snuck up into his nest and they were totally gonna do it.

“What do we do again?”

Wendy sighed, “We just, I don’t know, touch our lips together.”

“That’s it?” He raised one eyebrow and he could feel his ears raising in apprehension.

“Well, that’s all the romance books say.” She muttered, then looked away and coughed slightly, “I mean, they also say something about tongues, but I don’t really…” She trailed off.

“Uh, yeah… no tongues then.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

Gus leaned in.

“Wait!”

Gus blinked in surprise, “What?”

“You’re supposed to close your eyes.”

“That’s stupid.”

“ You’re stupid.”

“Ugh.” Gus pouted, “Fine, whatever. My eyes are closed” He closed them, “ See .”

“Okay.” She said, and he could hear her getting closer.

And then their lips touched.

It was… wet.

“Um.” He said when she pulled back.

“Yeah,” Wendy agreed, “I don’t think that was right.”

Gus shrugged, “I guess we don’t - uh - see each other like that.” He shrugged again, “Best friends?”

“Of course, dummy.”

-

Gus never really figured out what his mom was doing, with her giant metal cargo and warnings to never touch her glass cases.

All he knew was that, by the time he turned sixteen, she’d exhausted every avenue in her research and finally shut down her experiments.

She was sad about it, he knew. But he also didn’t really know how to help, so he just made sure to slot himself into her side whenever she seemed particularly down, letting his natural instincts take over a little more and nuzzled her until she felt better.

It worked, for the most part.

-

When Gus was nineteen, he kissed a boy.

It was his birthday and he was only slightly intoxicated off of the alcohol his mom had brewed.

Aimee had broken out her guitar, and Mike was proving to be a decent vocalist, singing some songs he’d made up and ones the adults had taught him from before the Great Crumble. The campfire was burning bright and everyone was dancing.

Gus hadn’t been able to stop smiling the entire night.

Eventually, the party wound down. The older adults broke off to head to bed while the nocturnal hybrids mostly sat down next to each other and talked until they finally got tired too. Gus was one of the last to go, sitting on a warm log a little ways away from most of the group and just soaking up the atmosphere.

He felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulders and a body slide into place next to him.

“Gus! Man, happy birthday.” Panther whisper-shouted into his twitching ear. “The last of your teenage years…” He sighed, wistfully overdramatic, “How I miss them.”

“Shut up.” Gus rolled his eyes, leaning to one side so he could bump shoulders with his friend, “You turned twenty one a month ago.”

Panther just grinned at him, taking another sip from his mug before offering it to Gus. He took the offered drink and sniffed. More alcohol. He took a sip and handed the mug back.

Panther was one of Bear’s friends, one of the youngest kids in the animal army and one of her staunchest supporters after Tigresses coup. He’d always been closer in age to the hybrids than any of the humans, so he and Gus had been close for years.

“Are Mark and Wendy asleep?”

Gus turned slightly to look at Panther out of the corner of his eye, “Yeah, Mark threw up and passed out an hour ago. And you know Wendy, she can barely keep her eyes open past moonrise.”

Panther snickered in agreement, “Yeah, makes sense. Did you have a good day?”

“The best.” Gus smiled again.

“Good.”

The two of them had stayed up talking for hours, passing the mug back and forth until they ran out of drink. Sometime during the night, they’d seemed to have drifted closer together because one moment Gus was laughing at a joke Panther said the next he was loosely gripping the fabric of his coat and he was very, very close.

Gus looked up to meet equally startled eyes.

“Uh, hi.”

Panther blinked slowly, “hi.”

And then Panther was kissing him. He hadn’t kissed anyone else besides Wendy, he hadn’t really wanted to - but kissing Panther? That was, like… woah .

It was just a press of lips, really. A swipe of tongue and a flash of teeth. It was also kind of wet. But Gus didn’t really mind this time.

Eventually, Gus pulled back, only then noticing that Panther had snuck a hand into his hair and was using it to keep him close. It was fine, he didn’t really want to be anywhere else.

-

The next morning Bear cheered in triumph while Wendy groaned in defeat.

Apparently, Wendy had to do Bear’s gardening chores for the next week because she’d bet on them taking another month to finally kiss.

Gus was both offended and touched.

-

Being with Panther was easy.

They were friends, really good friends.

Being with him was just like being friends, except now Gus was allowed to kiss him in greeting and nuzzle his cheek all he wanted.

Two months after his birthday, Panther had taken him out to the lake where they ate fresh berries and talked until the sun went down. 

They’d kissed, alot.

A lot of that kissing had been done horizontally. They’d had to pick twigs out of each other's hair and tried to look as decent as possible before returning to camp. Though, from his mother’s knowing look, Gus didn’t think they were fooling anyone.

-

The problem was that it stopped being easy.

Things just… got weird between them.

Gus couldn’t have pinpointed the exact moment but he just knew it had.

Before they used to be able to talk to each other about anything, Gus could have just laid in Panther’s arm and told him the most insane thing and Panther would have happily listened and vice versa. 

Now they barely even spent time with one another.

And even if they did it was mostly just kissing.

Gus knew something had changed, and he could still read Panther well enough to know that he knew it too.

“Panther.” Gus said, pulling away from a lingering kiss.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

Panther’s eyebrows scrunched, “What do you mean? I’m right here, Gus.”

“Yeah,” He murmured, using one hand to trace the line of Panther’s cheek bone, “and I still miss you.” 

Gus paused, then sighed again before pulling away completely.

“Gus?”

“What’s happening to us?”

“I -” Panther hesitated before dropping his gaze slightly in resignation, “I don’t know.” He took a deep breath, “I miss you too.”

“So, what do we do?”

“I think…” Panther sucked on his tooth for a moment, “I think we go back to being friends.”

“Friends…” Gus said, “Yeah, yeah let’s do that.”

They both had tears in their eyes, and Gus didn’t hesitate to step forward and grab Panther in a hug.

“You’re not allowed to ignore me, okay?”

Panther laughed against his shoulder, “I couldn’t if I tried. Have you met yourself?”

And for the first time in a month, Panther made Gus laugh.

-

It was awkward at first, sure.

They’d forget, sometimes, that they weren’t together anymore. Panther would lean forward for a kiss or Gus would grab his hand as they walked. And then they’d remember. And they’d jump back or pull away and an awkward tension would settle in.

But Gus was nothing if not stubborn, and so slowly but surely they managed to claw their way back to a proper friendship where they could be affectionate without feeling the desire to jump each other's bones.

Mark and Wendy were just sort of grateful they hadn’t had a huge argument and tore their little friendship group in half, so the two of them suffered through the months of awkwardness. 

A year after they’d broken up, Panther had gotten together with Sparrow - a girl who’d followed him to their camp from the animal army.

Gus was pleased to report that he felt nothing but happiness at the news and had welcomed Sparrow into their group with open arms.

-

Three weeks later, Gus was standing at the base of an oak tree, watching in bewilderment as a fully grown man swung helplessly in a trap they’d set up nearly ten years ago meant for last men.

“Uh, could you get me out of here?” The man said, “Preferably without dropping me.” He moved around a bit, and Gus caught sight of a small head of blonde hair, “Baby on board?”

Gus frowned for a second, sniffing the air slightly.

He recognised that smell.

The memory was old, granted, but still prominent. 

He looked up at the man in the rope trap.

“Rusty?!”