Archive of Our Own ^beta

March 8th

── .✦

Icy winds lashed Grian's face as he ran through the snow, his breath visible in quick, foggy puffs. His boots crunched on the icy surface, the slickness threatening his balance. Struggling for air, he squinted against the watery blur in his eyes.

Behind him, he could hear the inhuman hissing of one of those things chasing after him, snapping at his legs like a rabid dog after a rabbit.

Grian was running along a street of a small town, iced over and long since abandoned after those creatures fell from the sky months ago. He weaved through back alleys and side streets, between the buildings, desperate to lose the creature chasing after him, but no matter how far he ran, it was always right on his heels.

He silently cursed himself for losing his only dagger. After being ambushed by another one of those creatures a few days prior, Grian had stabbed the thing's side, successfully saving himself, but it had run away before he could get his knife back. He hadn't been lucky enough to find a suitable replacement yet.

Suddenly, the pounding footsteps behind him stopped as he turned into a narrow alleyway. Grian froze, glancing behind him to see that the creature had vanished from sight.

He tensed, glancing around on all sides, trying to see where it had gone. Grian knew better than to assume himself safe. Those things were stalkers, and much smarter than an average animal, too. They didn't just give up like this.

He was proven right only seconds later when the sound of wingbeats caught his attention, and he looked up to see it lunging down at him from the side of the building.

Grian yelped, ducking to the side as the creature lunged from above. Anticipating his move, it twisted mid-air using its wings to adjust its trajectory, slamming him back against the alley wall. Its claws pierced through his jacket and shirt, cutting into his skin.

He cried out, gripping the creature's neck and pushing its jaws back from his face. Heavy breaths escaped him as searing pain flared in his side, growing worse as the creature struggled in his hold. He pressed himself to the wall, planting a foot on its chest and kicking as hard as he could.

It shrieked as it slammed into the brick wall behind it, its wings flared out in pain. Grian could tell it was disoriented, likely hitting its head. It snapped its teeth at the air, staggering forward and whipping its tail tip. He staggered to his feet, wasting no time as he ran back out of the alley and into the streets of the town again, stumbling over a set of train tracks that cut through the roads.

The thing had followed after him, though it was a bit slower than before. Grian grit his teeth, listening to the sounds of its footsteps crunching in the snow, pressing a hand to the wound on his side, and forcing himself to keep running. The pain was still constant, burning with each step as the wound was jostled, blood soaking through his fingers, darkening his shirt and jacket.

He yelped as his foot was suddenly snagged from under him, sending him crashing into the snow. Grian could feel the icy sting of the snow on his wounds, but it was nothing compared to the fiery pain of the thing sinking its claws into his left ankle, dragging him back through the snow towards its snarling jaws.

Grian writhed against its hold, blindly kicking out. His vision was blurred from the snow flying into his face from both of their struggles, small noises of pain escaping him with every tug on his ankle from the creature.

He finally managed to land a kick to the thing's face. It let go of his ankle, staggering back and ducking its head with a shriek of pain.

Grian pushed himself to his feet, his injured ankle nearly giving out on him. He gasped in pain as he tried to put weight on it, almost falling back into the snow.

The creature had already recovered by the time he got his feet under him, though, lunging forward with a screech of anger, its wings flared wide behind it with black feathers bristling.

Grian couldn't dodge it in time. The creature crashed into him, sending them falling back into the snow. White-hot pain laced up the side of his neck and through his shoulder, the feeling of the creature's teeth sinking into his flesh, sending sparks of agony throughout his body. He could smell the creature's breath fanning out in the cold air against his cheek, rank and rotting, clouding his senses. Grian screamed in pain, shoving and hitting at the creature to make it let go, but it only dug in deeper.

He could feel blood bubbling up out of the wound, spilling onto the snow and turning the once white blanket beneath them red. Grian cried out again as the thing tightened its hold, razor-sharp teeth digging into his skin.

Grian desperately fought against it, blood roaring in his ears as his heart beat frantically in his chest, gasping for air between the cries of agony. His nails ripped at the thing's feathers, his knees hitting against its stomach over and over, but nothing worked. The creature was determined to kill him.

Already, he could feel himself slowing as the pain overtook him, blood staining the snow red as his blood spilled onto it. His struggles began to wane, his kicks becoming sluggish and his breathing strained as the creature continued to hold him down.

He looked around, desperate for anything to help him, but there was nothing but snow. He was in the middle of the road, near the edge of the town, the streets devoid of life. Grian could feel his heart in his throat, tears stinging his eyes from a combination of pain and fear.

He was going to die here.

Raising a fist, Grian forced himself to keep struggling, despite how useless it felt now. Even if he did manage to get the thing to let go, he knew he wouldn't make it far. He was easy prey now, and this thing knew it. They never gave their prey a quick death.

He punched the thing in the end, over and over, but it barely budged, growling low in its throat. Grian cried out again as it tightened its hold, eyes squeezing shut and hand falling limp in the snow as a few tears slipped from his eyes.

Finally, energy drained and his mind overwhelmed by agony, Grian let his head fall back in the snow, his body going limp and eyes sliding shut as the fight drained out of him. The sharp scent of iron hung in the air, tainted by his own blood. He just hoped the thing wouldn't use its poison-tipped stinger on him—

BANG

The creature suddenly jerked against him, its grip on his shoulder falling slack as the thing slumped against him in the snow. It writhed for a moment, shrieking and whimpering, before falling still.

Grian's eyes snapped open, the faint scent of smoke hanging in the air as he struggled to push the creature off him. A gasp of pain ripped through him as he moved his right arm, the agony from his shoulder increasing until it felt like thousands of fiery-hot knives were stabbing into his skin.

He fell still in an attempt to ease the pain, breathing hard as he gazed up at the sky, suddenly feeling increasingly lightheaded. He could still feel the pain of his wounds, bleeding sluggishly as he lay there in the snow. His vision was blurring at the edges, his head pounding from the blood loss.

Grian barely noticed the sound of approaching footsteps crunching in the snow until a man suddenly stood over him. He looked up blearily, tensing slightly, though he was too weak and injured to really move.

The man crouched down, his brows furrowed in worry as he looked over Grian's injuries. A rifle was strung across his back, his brown hair falling into his face from where it was tied back at the nape of his neck, framing his green eyes as he peered down at Grian. A thick green jacket was thrown over his shoulders, and in Grian's delirious state, he couldn't help but wonder if it was warmer than his own.

"Oh, you don't look so good," the stranger said, leaning a bit closer to look at his wounds. "Can you sit up?"

Grian struggled to make out his words through the haze of pain that had settled over his mind, but after a moment, he managed to get his elbow under him to lift himself. The man placed a hand on his back to help steady him as he slowly rose to a sitting position, a pained noise slipping from his lips.

The man let him lean against him as another flare of pain radiated through his shoulder. He could feel the stickiness of the blood drying along his side, his ankle throbbing in pain as it lay limp in the snow. He doubted he would be able to stand on it, at least for a while.

"Easy," the stranger soothed as Grian gasped in pain when he tried to move his arm. "That thing really did a number on you…"

He shifted beside Grian then, getting his feet under him. "Let me help you. I have supplies back at my base. I can bandage these wounds."

Grian grit his teeth, feeling another wave of lightheadedness hit him. Really, he was in no state to refuse the offer of help. He didn't have the right medical supplies to treat his own injuries, and he knew he wouldn't be able to patch himself up alone. He didn't think he'd be able to walk by himself.

He pushed past the pain enough to nod, accepting the man's help as he staggered to his feet. A strangled gasp escaped him as he put weight on his ankle, his legs nearly giving out. The man quickly caught him, grabbing his arms as he landed against the man's chest, leaning heavily against him.

"Easy," he repeated, shifting and leaning down slightly to sling Grian's uninjured arm over his shoulder to help him stand. "Just lean against me."

Grian didn't protest the movement, the world spinning around him now that he was back on his feet. Black spots gathered near the edge of his vision, but he stubbornly fought them off. He refused to pass out here, even if this stranger had offered help. Though the man may have saved him, Grian knew how people could be at the end of the world. He'd seen it firsthand.

Stumbling through the snow, the man led them along the road of the small town, heading towards the edge where the buildings began to fall away to an empty field. Grian focused his gaze on his own staggering footsteps, too weak to really lift his head. He noticed the foot tracks in the snow, likely belonging to the man when he had first run over to his side.

Glancing back, Grian could see what had killed the creature, which was surrounded by a pool of purple blood. He'd figured the man had shot it, given his rifle and the sudden bang, but now Grian could see the clear bullet hole in the thing's chest, right next to where Grian assumed its heart was. If it had one.

He shivered as he saw his own blood staining its jaws and hands, realizing just how bad things could have ended if this stranger hadn't saved him.

"The name's Scar, by the way," the man spoke suddenly, drawing Grian's attention away from the dead creature.

He glanced up at him—Scar— and faintly had the wonder if Scar's name came from the numerous scars dotting his visible skin, or if that really was his name.

"Grian," he replied, wincing as he heard the tangible weariness in his voice, though thankfully Scar didn't point it out.

Scar smiled, shifting his hold on Grian slightly and pulling him closer as a sudden, sharp gust of wind blew through the streets. "Sorry about the circumstances," he chuckled softly. "Usually these exchanges happen over a nice candlelight dinner."

If Grian had the capacity to focus on anything other than keeping himself on his feet, he would have been mortified at the thought of being flirted with after just nearly being mauled within an inch of his life. However, presently, Grian barely even registered it.

They left the town behind, the buildings and streets falling away as they entered the open field. Grian tried to figure out where they were going, but given his exhausted state and blurred vision, he couldn't see much of their surroundings.

The stranger seemed to notice this. "It's just past here," he explained, guiding Grian away from the road and instead along a side street that was mostly hidden by the snow.

Grian frowned, lifting his head to glance around. The town had fallen away behind them, but as Scar turned along the side path, Grian could see the lone building in the field.

It was a church, a small one, with a towering steeple on one side and a circular window on the front. The building itself was nearly lost in the snow, as it was made of limestone bricks, with icicles hanging from the roof edge and the window sills.

Grian couldn't help but frown as he saw it, wondering if this was what Scar meant by his base. It didn't seem practical to him, given its probable lack of supplies and equipment inside.

Scar seemed to notice this, giving a soft laugh. "I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's good shelter. You'll see."

Grian eyed the church doubtfully, but he really wasn't in a position to argue. Exhaustion was pulling at his limbs still, his vision focusing in and out every few seconds. His shoulder and ankle throbbed with each step, and every breath caused a sharp spike of pain to radiate from his side.

The cold was biting at his wounds now, stinging his eyes and nose as he shivered, unconsciously leaning closer to Scar's warmth. Small snowflakes began drifting from the cloudy skies, landing soundlessly on the snow below.

Frowning, Scar glanced up at the sky. "Great," he muttered, "Another snow." He adjusted his hold on Grian then, picking up their pace slightly and letting Grian lean more heavily against his side.

Grian winced as the movement tugged at his wounds, but he kept the pain to himself. He wasn't exactly eager to be caught out in the snow either, so he let Scar hurry them along despite the pain lacing through him with every step.

The door creaked open as Scar shouldered it open, leading Grian inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

Inside, it looked exactly as Grian had expected it to—two rows of wooden benches lining each side of the room, with a walkway down through the center. At the back stood the altar, along with the towering statue of whatever deity this church was built for. Grian was both too tired and too uncaring to attempt to figure out who the statue could be depicting, but his eyes did linger on the three pairs of wings on the figure's back, each one curled around itself almost protectively.

Scar led them down through the center of the benches, heading straight for the altar. As they got closer, Grian could see there was a doorway tucked away behind the statue, with a set of stairs leading further down to what must be the church's basement.

After a few moments of struggle, they eventually made their way down the stone steps and into a dimly lit hall. It was surprisingly warm, and distantly, Grian could hear the faint crackling of a fireplace.

Scar continued down the hall before pausing near a door, nudging it open, and guiding Grian inside.

He was surprised to find the room fully furnished, complete with a bed in one corner, a couch at the center, settled in front of a lit fireplace. A table took up another wall, where Grian could see some supplies lying out—bandages, cans of food, a dagger, and boxes of ammo.

Scar led Grian to sit on the couch, sliding Grian's arm off his shoulders as he turned back to the table to grab a first aid kit.

"It's not much," Scar spoke after a moment, back still turned to Grian. "But it works for me, considering the circumstances," he added with a short laugh, shedding his rifle from his back and setting it on the table before turning back to Grian and sitting on the couch beside him.

"I didn't think a church would have a place like this…" Grian murmured, glancing around the room as Scar began to sort through the med kit.

"I didn't either," he admitted. "Not until I stumbled upon it after one of those Watchers chased me in here." He looked back at Grian, reaching towards his shoulder before pausing suddenly. "Could you…take your shirt off? It would be easier to clean those." He gestured towards Grian's side and shoulder, both of which were still bleeding sluggishly, though they had slowed considerably.

"Watchers?" Grian repeated, glancing at Scar with a questioning look, though he did slowly begin shedding his jacket.

Scar shifted closer to help him, carefully peeling the blood-soaked fabric away from his shoulder and side. "It's what I've started calling them, those creatures. Watchers."

"Why?" Grian asked, wincing as the fabric tugged at his fresh wounds.

Scar shrugged. "Well, I needed something to call them. And after observing them for a bit, I noticed that they liked to stalk after their victims for a while, watching them from a distance for days before they attack. Hence the name Watchers." He set Grian's jacket aside on the coffee table, turning back to help lift his shirt off.

Grian shivered slightly as his shirt was gently tugged off, leaving him exposed under Scar's gaze. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to squirm as Scar began carefully wiping the blood away with a cleaning rag, starting first at his shoulder.

"Have you…been here long?" Grian questioned after a moment, trying to distract himself from his sudden discomfort, while also keeping his back firmly pressed against the couch cushions, realizing just how exposed his body was. He could feel the raised scar brushing against the cushions at his back. Don't let him see—

Scar nodded. "Almost three weeks now, yeah. That town was pretty empty when I first passed through it, but it had plenty of supplies. Enough to last me a while down here, at least. And the fireplace is just a bonus," he added with a laugh.

"Those things don't try to get in?" Grian winced as Scar began cleaning the injury itself, the sting of disinfectant worming its way under his skin.

"Sorry," Scar murmured, shifting to grab a roll of bandages. "No, they don't. I keep the door to the basement barred up, just in case, but so far none of them have tried to follow me in here. I don't know why…"

Grian hummed in consideration, leaning back against the couch as Scar finished with his shoulder and moved to his side. The pain of his injuries wasn't nearly half as bad now that he was out of the cold and resting somewhere comfortable, but he could still feel the lingering sting of that creature's claws in his flesh. He suppressed a shudder as he thought back to how close to death he had been.

"Where did you come from?" Scar asked, glancing up at Grian briefly before going back to cleaning out his wound. "People don't normally pass through the town, since it's so far out of the way."

"Just wandering, really," Grian responded a bit too quickly, his voice just a bit too sharp. He winced as he heard it, but if Scar had noticed it, he didn't comment.

"Are you headed to a specific place?"

"Not really. I've just been trying to keep away from those creatures." Grian didn't want to admit the real reason, but it was at least somewhat of a half-truth. He really didn't have a destination in mind, but as long as it kept him away from other survivors and those creatures, he didn't care.

He shifted on the couch, discomfort worming its way up his spine. The rough scar at the small of his back felt like a thousand tiny needles were poking their way into his flesh.

"You're pretty good at this," Grian spoke up, swiftly changing the subject away from himself as Scar finished up bandaging his side, ignoring how the scar continued to burn a hole into the cushion behind him.

Scar huffed. "I'd hope so. I've been doing it for myself for a while now, but you're the first person I've gotten to test my skills out on."

Grian gave a soft laugh. "Aren't I lucky?"

Scar waggled his eyebrows, clearly pleased. "Don't worry, you're in the hands of a professional," he declared, shifting from where he was seated next to Grian to kneel on the floor beside him, carefully rolling Grian's pant leg up to get a look at his ankle.

A sharp inhale escaped him as he felt the fabric tug at the wound, the dried blood pulling at the edges of the claw marks.

Scar frowned as he looked over it, taking Grian's foot in his hand and slowly sliding off his boot to see the full extent of the wound. "That Watcher really got you good."

Grian sighed, leaning back against the couch, wincing as the movement jostled his other injuries. "Feels like it," he murmured.

"I don't think you'll be able to walk on it much for a few days, minimum. It looks sprained."

Grian frowned, but he figured Scar was probably right. That thing had been tugging at his ankle pretty hard. It was likely he couldn't tell under the pain of its claws. "That bad, huh?" He sighed.

Scar glanced up at him with a small smile. "I guess you're stuck with me for a while, then."

Grian felt his chest tighten. "I guess so."

He knew there was no way he'd be able to leave after this, unable walk on that foot, especially not in the snow. And if another creature found him…

"That's alright," Scar's voice cut off his thoughts. "I've got plenty of supplies to last us a few days in here. And it's always nice to have company. It can get pretty boring around here."

Grian hummed in acknowledgement, trying to quell the rising anxiety in his chest. There was a reason he'd been trying to stay away from any survivors, why he'd been strictly surviving alone. He could feel it, still burning against his back like hot iron pressing into his flesh.

He'd be fine here for a few days, as long as he kept his distance. If he kept the scar covered, then there was no chance of his secret being discovered. Then, once he was healed, he could leave, return to his wanderings alone without the constant fear of being found out worming around in his chest.

Scar eventually finished up with the bandages, sitting back and packing away the medkit. He moved back to the table, setting the box aside before reaching for something in his bag, pulling it out, and tossing it over to Grian.

It was a simple red sweater, slightly worn around the edges, but otherwise in good condition. Grian glanced up at Scar, brows furrowed.

"I didn't think you'd want to put those back on," he said, gesturing to Grian's former shirt and jacket, lying in a blood-soaked heap with visible rips along the side. "It's a bit too small for me, so it will probably fit you better."

Grian ran his hands over the sweater before slowly pulling it on, careful not to jostle his wounds too much. It was soft, much warmer than the thin long sleeve he'd been wearing under his jacket. Admittedly, it was a bit big, the sleeves nearly covering his fingers and the waistline a bit too far past his hips, but it was better than nothing. He rolled the sleeves back until they sat comfortably on his wrists, grateful for the coverage.

"Thanks," he murmured, leaning his head back against the back of the couch and letting his eyes slide shut for a moment.

He listened to the sounds of Scar rummaging around in the backpack for a long while, the crackle of the fireplace filling the silence as it settled between them. Grian could feel the effects of blood loss setting in, exhaustion tugging at his limbs now that he was somewhere warm, despite the lingering aches of his injuries. He felt like he could sleep for a week.

"Here," Scar called after a moment, prompting Grian to open his eyes to see that Scar had stepped closer to him again, holding out a bottle of water. "It's not cold, but it's better than nothing."

Grian accepted the water gratefully, screwing off the seal and taking a long sip. He hadn't realized just how thirsty he was until the water touched his tongue—room temperature, as Scar had said, but definitely better than nothing.

He set the water aside after drinking his fill, putting the cap back on and setting it on the coffee table, wincing as the movement irritated his side.

"You should rest," Scar suggested, looking at him with thinly veiled worry. "You look exhausted."

Grian huffed, but he knew Scar had a point. Weariness was tugging at him, begging him to rest. The blood loss had drained him of his energy, leaving behind a heavy exhaustion and a pounding headache behind his eyes.

"You can take the bed," Scar said, motioning to the little cot in the corner.

"Are you sure?" Grian questioned. "The couch is fine-"

"No, it's alright," Scar assured him. "I've got some chores to finish up around here—and trust me, that bed is way better than the couch." He moved closer to Grian, extending a hand. "Come on."

Grian was too tired to argue against it, and really, the thought of sleeping in an actual bed for the first time in months did seem very appealing to him. He took Scar's offered hand, allowing the other to pull him to his feet, stumbling as he fought to keep weight off of his ankle.

Scar helped him to the bed, letting Grian settle himself on it while also kicking off his remaining boot and setting it aside. The wound in his side ached with every movement, and Grian found himself unable to lift his right arm without his shoulder protesting vehemently, causing his movements to be more stilted and awkward.

Eventually, Grian got himself settled back against the bed. Scar stepped back as Grian lay back against the pillows, his look of concern easing. "I'll be just outside if you need something."

"I'll be fine," Grian assured him, part of him finding Scar's worry amusing, though those thoughts were quickly pushed away.

Scar, seemingly satisfied with his answer, soon left after that, tugging on the coat that he'd discarded when they first came in, along with the now-empty backpack slung across his shoulder. Grian was left alone in the quiet room, the crackling of the fireplace filling his thoughts as he quickly drifted off to sleep.

── .✦

March 9th

── .✦

The following day, Grian found himself unable to do much.

The soreness from his injuries had set in after his long sleep, leaving him stiff and aching, and with neither of them having any painkillers on hand, he was left to just put up with the pain for a while.

The lack of painkillers didn't really concern Grian. He was used to dealing with his injuries himself, and most of that meant putting up with the pain until it eventually faded away.

Scar helped him change the bandages, which Grian was grateful for. The wounds seemed to be doing fine, no signs of infection from what either of them could tell, and none had started bleeding again either.

It was mainly his ankle that Grian was annoyed with. He couldn't put any weight on it, meaning he was basically reliant on Scar to move around.

Scar, however, didn't seem annoyed by it in the slightest, always offering to help Grian when he caught him struggling. It was something Grian wasn't used to, given how he'd been alone for much of his journeys across the frozen landscape.

If anything, Scar seemed delighted to have someone to talk to. Grian had at first thought he would find the man's endless chatting annoying, but really, he was grateful to have something to fill the silence.

They talked over breakfast, Scar rambling on about his ventures through the snows before he had come across the small town. Grian had responded with a few words, but he was mostly content to let Scar fill the silence between them.

Though as the day progressed, Grian could feel himself becoming restless. He wasn't used to sticking around one place for long, always on the move to the next thing. He especially hated the boredom of it, staring listlessly up at the ceiling or adjacent wall while Scar was out somewhere gathering firewood.

He wanted out of this room, at least for a bit. The fireplace, while warm, made the air feel stuffy and thick, only adding to Grian's annoyance with the situation.

Scar eventually returned later that day, shaking snow from his coat, still as he set the gathered firewood into the wood box next to the fireplace. He sat down on the floor near the fireplace, tugging off his gloves and shaking out his fingers to dispel the lingering numbness from the cold. "It is freezing out there. I think another blizzard is coming."

Grian huffed from his spot on the bed, lying back against the pillows. "Great. More snow," he muttered. "How much colder can it get out there?"

Scar shrugged, leaning back against the base of the couch. "I was not expecting the end of the world to be so cold."

"I wasn't expecting those creatures to fall out of the sky," Grian muttered. "But I guess no one can really predict that."

Scar laughed. "I was expecting zombies to start crawling out of the ground."

Grian huffed a small laugh. "Zombies? Really?"

"How else is the world supposed to end?" Scar questioned, almost sounding offended that Grian didn't agree with him.

Grian shrugged. "I dunno. Nuclear fallout? The sun exploding?"

Scar crossed his arms. "But those are boring."

"Well, I guess this is almost like zombies…just, with aliens?"

"And a lot of snow," Scar added. "Out of everything, I really wasn't expecting the earth to freeze over."

Grian hummed in agreement. "Permanent winter does kind of suck."

A short silence fell over them then, as Scar rested his head back against the couch cushion. The crackling of the fireplace filled the air, the embers inside it beginning to dim as the flames ate away at the fuel.

"It's still better than the sun exploding," Scar murmured after a moment, shifting to toss another log of wood into the fire after fishing it out of the wood box.

A surprised laugh escaped Grian, cut off quickly by a sharp pang in his side. He winced, pressing a hand to it as he took a breath. "It's realistic," he insisted.

"Boring," Scar corrected.

After Scar had refueled the fireplace for the night, they finished off the night with a dinner of mushroom stew from the supply of canned foods Scar had kept stored. He'd explained earlier that most of it had come from the town nearby. Apparently, it had yet to be raided by any survivors due to how far off the main roads it was.

As they talked between spoonfuls of stew, Grian could feel his previous restlessness fading. It always did whenever Scar was around, his voice filling the silence and ridding the boredom from Grian's mind. Despite his reservations about getting too close to other survivors, Grian couldn't help but look forward to moments like this, bickering between bowls of food with the light of the fireplace illuminating their faces.

Later, once they had both finished off their bowls of stew, Scar had retreated up to the main room of the church while Grian settled in on the bed for the night. Scar had checked over his wounds before he left, ensuring they were healing well while changing his bandages. The pain had considerably lessened by then, the stiffness slowly fading away, although Grian had a feeling it would return the following morning.

He felt slightly guilty for using up Scar's supplies, but the man always assured him that he didn't mind. It was becoming clear to Grian that Scar was probably just happy to have someone to talk to.

── .✦

March 13th 

── .✦

The snow continued to fall outside, building up steadily against the earth's floor and sheeting everything in a white blanket.

Grian was still with Scar inside the church, still healing after his attack. His side had almost fully healed, scarring over in some parts as the flesh stitched itself back together. The pain was nearly gone, save for his shoulder, which still ached when he moved his arm too much or too roughly.

He was steadily building back strength in his ankle, able to walk around the room himself now and put some amount of pressure on it. Grian was still hesitant to call himself fully healed, though, as he doubted he'd be able to walk through the snow just yet, let alone run if another one of those things caught him.

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Grian that his best option would be to stick with Scar, even once he was healed, despite his instincts telling him to leave as soon as he got the chance. For the first time in weeks, he could allow himself to feel marginally safe here. He didn't have to constantly look over his shoulder for any creatures stalking him or other survivors getting too close. He could actually sleep without constant nightmares built by his stress of being vulnerable.

For once, he had a steady routine, consistent food, real shelter, and someone whom he might be able to trust.

A quiet part of him also hated the idea of going back to surviving alone. Grian truly enjoyed Scar's company, a rare thing for him, and now that he had it, he didn't want to let it go.

This thought was only further cemented the day that Scar surprised him with a crutch that the man had fastened out of sturdy sticks and rope, carefully crafted and held together by duct tape.

Grian sat up straighter from where he was sitting on the couch, staring absently at the flames flickering in the fireplace. He turned as Scar entered, his eyes immediately narrowing in on the makeshift crutch that the man was carrying under his arm.

"What's that?" He questioned as Scar stepped inside, shrugging off his bag full of freshly chopped wood.

"This," Scar announced proudly, holding it out for Grian. "Is for you. To help you walk while your ankle heals."

Grian perked up, reaching out to take the offered crutch, running his fingers over the sticks that made up the frame of the crutch. "You made this?"

Scar nodded. "I had the idea while I was out getting wood," he explained. "I already had all these sticks lying around, and I was just lucky enough to find this rope and tape a few days ago in one of those houses. Very useful, that stuff."

Grian shifted it in his hands, fingers brushing against the tape holding it together. It felt sturdy enough, the rope winding around the frame of the crutch and providing a space for Grian to rest it under his arm.

"Give it a try. I tested it myself, so it should hold your weight," Scar urged, looking to him with wide eyes, clearly hoping that Grian liked the gift.

"Alright, alright," Grian laughed softly. "Help me up."

Scar seemed delighted to help him to his feet, tugging him up from the couch and allowing Grian to steady himself against Scar while he shifted the crutch under his right arm. He leaned onto it, slightly testing its weight. Scar moved back, allowing Grian to feel out the crutch himself.

"I kind of guessed on the measurements," Scar admitted sheepishly, watching as Grian took a careful step with it.

Grian shifted the crutch under his arm, leaning against it to take up most of his weight to avoid putting it on his injured ankle. He took a hobbling step forward, feeling slightly awkward as he walked with the crutch. His movements were stiff, overly careful as he tested it out.

Scar watched quietly, letting Grian work out the movements of the crutch himself before speaking up. "Do you like it?" He asked, a slight hint of worry creeping into his voice.

He shifted his weight on it, leaning back against it. "It'll take some getting used to," Grian decided after a moment. "But I like it."

Scar beamed, his green eyes lighting. "That's a relief. It took a while to build."

Grian took a few more shaky steps with the crutch, feeling Scar's eyes tracking him as he moved around the room. The crutch was sized relatively correctly despite its rudimentary construction. The sticks held sturdy under his weight; the rope pulled taut under his arm, allowing him to lean against it with less or more pressure.

"Thank you," Grian spoke after a moment, voice quiet. His eyes flicked back to Scar, suddenly feeling something vulnerable coiling inside his chest, unnerving and unfamiliar all at once.

Scar's smile softened as he met Grian's eyes, a quiet gentleness there as if he were looking at something precious and delicate, which only tightened the feeling in Grian's chest further. "It was the least I could do," he said with a short laugh. "I figured you were getting sick of staying in here all day. At least now you can come upstairs, see the sun."

Grian returned the smile, a small warmth blooming inside his chest even as the new, unfamiliar feeling settled there like a rock. Two conflicting feelings that Grian had no idea how to reconcile. "I've missed the sun," he joked, trying to push the confusing feelings away, hiding them deep in his chest.

── .✦

March 15th 

── .✦

Grian limped up the stone stairs to the main room of the church, squinting his eyes against the bright sun as it filtered in through the tall windows. He leaned heavily against the makeshift crutch as he walked, careful to avoid jostling his ankle against the stairs with each step.

He had been slowly learning how to walk with the crutch, wandering up and down the hall with shaky, clumsy steps to pass the time. It still wasn't perfect, but Grian knew his ankle would be healed soon enough, and by then, he wouldn't need to use the crutch anymore.

It was more of just a temporary solution. One that allowed Grian to move around and feel marginally more useful and like himself, which he would take over sitting around in vain any day.

He rounded the main altar at the back of the church, taking in the sight of the sanctuary now that he wasn't half-dead from blood loss.

The statue still stood in the center of the altar, towering over Grian and the rest of the room. He craned his neck up to try to see their face, though their head was bowed in a way that hid most of it. Grian noticed another pair of wings, smaller, resting just behind their ears. The stone feathers of the carving hid their eyes from view. The rest of their body was concealed in long robes and their many wings, curled around their body as if hiding themself.

He didn't recognize the deity depicted in the statue. Though Grian had never spent the time learning about any of the worshipped deities in the area, either, as he'd never had a care for them.

From what he knew, small towns like this were usually only centered around one god, where the church was built first at the main point of the town, and the rest of the buildings and homes soon followed. Though this church was set apart from the rest of the town, striking him as odd. It was unusual for a temple of worship like this to be cast aside from its surrounding town, though it was possible the townspeople simply wanted it in this particular location.

The table of the altar was set in front of the statue, collecting dust. A few candle holders were settled on either side, but the rest of it was empty, providing no hint as to which god the statue was depicting.

Grian let his eyes sweep across the rest of the sanctuary, but there was really nothing else of interest. It looked old, from what he could tell. Some of the pews were broken and rotting, the wood slowly giving away as dust collected visibly along the empty seats. He wondered if the place had been abandoned for a few years.

He limped away from the altar towards one of the tall windows, peering out at the white expanse of the field before him. Distantly, he could see a few scattered trees, along with rising mountains along the horizon. Originally, Grian had been following those mountains while wandering the frozen landscape alone, using them as a guiding point to ensure he wasn't just walking in circles.

He didn't know what was out there, beyond those mountains. Maybe there, the world wasn't trapped in an endless winter. Maybe those creatures wouldn't follow him past the mountain ranges.

Grian knew it was wishful thinking. He'd been traveling for nearly two months now, and there was no end of this snow in sight. The creatures still stalked the wintery lands, circling their targets in the sky like vultures and stalking them along the ground for days like ravenous wolves.

The sound of footsteps from behind the statue caused Grian to tense. He turned, relaxing slightly at the sight of Scar standing there. His thick hair was a bit messy, not yet tied back like he normally kept it, as if he'd just woken up.

"Oh," Scar breathed. "There you are."

A small smile twitched at Grian's lips as the man stepped out of the stairwell then. "Still here," he answered softly. He'd left the man sleeping on the couch downstairs that morning to limp his way up to the church sanctuary, not feeling the need to disturb his sleep. "Did you just wake up?"

Scar scrubbed at his eyes, as if still blinking the haze of sleep from them. "What gave it away?"

Grian smirked. "Probably that bedhead of yours. Or maybe the crust in your eyes?"

A red flush of embarrassment overtook Scar's features, his hands reaching up to brush at his eyes. "Excuse you," he huffed. "I am a pretty angel!"

A laugh escaped Grian, and he crossed his arms to lean back against the windowsill, shifting his crutch to rest against the wall. "Sure you are," he murmured, eyes lingering on the way the bright light from the rising sun framed Scar's tousled hair.

Eventually, after scrubbing the grit and sleepiness from his eyes, Scar moved to stand near Grian at the window, running his hands through his messy hair. "I see you're getting better with that crutch," he commented.

Grian nodded. "I am. I've been practicing when you're not around."

"Just don't overdo it, G. You don't want that ankle to get worse," Scar warned.

Turning away, Grian focused his eyes on the white blanket of snow covering the ground outside, trying not to show how Scar's use of that stupid nickname made that weird warm feeling return to his chest, squeezing and lightening all at once. Scar had used it a few times before, when Grian was still stuck healing downstairs, and every time it always brought that strange feeling back. It was still just as confusing as the first time he'd had it, and yet sometimes Grian couldn't help but enjoy it when Scar caused it to return.

"I won't," he answered softly.

He pointedly kept his gaze fixed on the snow outside, trying to avoid glancing over at Scar as the man began to pull his wolfish hair back into its usual style at the nape of his neck. Grian had noticed recently that it was getting slightly longer, even in just a few short days.

"I think we're due for another blizzard today," Scar commented after a moment, resting his hands on the edge of the window as he looked outside as well, his eyes traveling up to the darkening clouds.

Grian frowned, noting how the wind seemed to be picking up as well. He'd dealt with blizzards before, back when he was on his own. Rushing to find shelter in the closest space he could, curled up in a ball and shivering as he waited out the worst of it. He shuddered as he remembered the time he'd been caught out in the open in the blizzard. It was only lucky that he'd found that old barn before he'd frozen over entirely.

"Good thing we have a fireplace," Grian joked, glancing over at Scar.

Scar nodded his assent. "And food," he added. He perked up then, his emerald eyes lightening as if he'd just remembered something. "Speaking of food," he started, nudging Grian's side. "I was lucky enough to find a can of honeyed oats the other day. What do you say we treat ourselves to a nice breakfast of something other than mushrooms and beans?"

Grian had eagerly agreed. He'd been growing sick of the repeated meals every day, and the thought of something other than their usual routine had his stomach suddenly remembering its hunger.

They had eaten in the sanctuary of the church, settled on the floor near the back of the middle aisle, chatting leisurely over each spoonful about whatever topic came to mind. It was a regular morning for them in this regard, the sound of the wind blowing across the snow-covered fields outside filling in the small bouts of silence between them.

The rest of the day passed normally, too. After breakfast, Scar had shrugged on his coat and laced on his boots, preparing to collect more firewood before the blizzard hit to ensure they had enough to last.

While he was gone, Grian explored more around the sanctuary, using his crutch to help him get around and periodically taking a few careful, testing steps with his ankle. It was getting noticeably stronger by now, able to handle most of his weight for a while before the discomfort settled in, sending sparks of pain up through his leg. He figured it would be a few days before he could forgo the crutch entirely.

His exploration of the sanctuary proved fruitless, only further pointing to his suspicion that the place had been abandoned for a while, even before those things had fallen from the sky. However, Grian had noticed the absence of any sort of information or even an acknowledgement of the deity depicted by the statue.

He had thought that there could have at least been a name somewhere, given the fact that this church had likely been built specifically for that deity, but there was nothing. No signs, no notes, no books. It was as if the entire existence of this deity had been erased, with no records pointing to any hint of who they were.

Grian eventually gave up in his searching after the fifth lap around the wooden pews, setting aside his crutch as he sat down on the altar table. Part of him felt like this was probably some forbidden act, a sign of disrespect towards the figure above him. But then again, what exactly were they going to do about it?

He sighed, leaning back against the stone base of the statue, kicking his legs absently. His gaze was fixed on the closest window to him, where he could see the gathering grey clouds across the snowy fields. The blizzard would be moving in soon.

Tilting his head back, Grian peered up at the statue. A burning curiosity had now settled itself in his mind; the need to know who this statue was was now an insistent question in his head. How could there simply be zero acknowledgement of this mysterious deity in a church built just for them?

He frowned, staring up at the statue. From this angle, he could now clearly see their bowed head, tilted down to hide their features from the eyes of people gathered in the pews. Their head wings still blocked most of it from view, though if Grian strained his head back further, he could see past the stone feathers.

His brows furrowed as he noticed the odd lack of facial features. For a moment, he wondered if whoever had designed it had simply chosen not to add a face, since the head wings would hide most of it from view. But, as he stared up at it, it almost looked as if they were wearing a mask.

It concealed most of their upper face, ending just at the curve of their nose, which disappeared behind the feathers. A symbol was carved into the front of it, one that immediately caused Grian to stiffen as he saw it, a sick, phantom sense of acid crawling through his veins.

He recognized that symbol. Not only that, he wore it in the form of the scar along his lower back. The same scar that was now burning against his skin, the phantom pain of the injury flared up at the sickening reminder.

The symbol was in the shape of a single eye, with only a few lines connecting it to form a recognizable shape. A simple carving that most people likely wouldn't think much of, but to Grian, it made this sudden revelation all the more sickening.

His hand traveled back to press at the scar through the fabric of his sweater, part of him expecting it to be hot against his hand like it felt against his back. His fingers brushed against the lines of the scar, tracing the shape of that eye. He knew it like the back of his hand at this point, despite how he always avoided looking at it in mirrors.

Grian shuddered as he remembered the day he'd gotten the injury—the pain of that stinger sinking into his flesh as the poison burned through his veins. He'd seen it happen to others, convulsing and writhing on the ground as that dark purple liquid seeped from their mouth and eyes, their bodies slowly forming into one of those creatures.

He didn't know how he'd survived it. He didn't think he was supposed to survive it. But somehow, he had. Though it still felt like part of him had died that day.

But why was that symbol on the statue? Was this place somehow connected to those creatures? He couldn't deny the similarities the statue bore to the creatures that had fallen from the sky, the numerous wings, the hidden face, and the eye. He'd brushed it off before as a coincidence—after all, a lot of angels looked like them—but now he wasn't so sure.

Grian quickly averted his eyes from the symbol, the phantom sense of pain easing slightly as he stared down at his hands, taking a shaky breath. It's fine, he reasoned to himself. It doesn't mean anything.

He tried to steady his breathing again, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn't know. He fisted his hands in his lap, leaning forward away from the statue. He won't know.

The door to the sanctuary suddenly banged open. Grian startled, snapping his eyes open to see Scar stumbling through, covered in snow. The man looked panicked, his eyes wide as he kicked the door shut behind him with a sharp thud.

"Scar?" Grian questioned, already sliding off the altar table and steadying his crutch under his arm. "What are you-"

"We need to leave," Scar grit out, his voice low, the most serious Grian had ever heard him.

"What?"

"We need to leave. Now," Scar repeated urgently, moving past Grian to the stairs leading to the basement.

Grian furrowed his brow, rocking forward on his crutch to follow after him. "Scar-"

Scar turned suddenly, halfway down the stairwell, catching Grian's wrist in his hand with a firm hold. He stared up at Grian imploringly. Grian's heart skipped a beat as he realized how close they were. "Just trust me, G. Please."

Grian's breath hitched as Scar's hand slipped around his wrist, the seriousness in the man's gaze catching him off guard. He'd never seen the man this frazzled before. Clearly, whatever Scar was scared of was serious.

He nodded quickly. "Yeah—alright. I trust you."

He felt Scar's hand squeeze around his wrist, once, before letting go. The man turned around, clearing the last of the steps and hurrying off into the bedroom.

Grian stood there for a moment at the crest of the steps, watching as Scar disappeared into the doorway. He shook off his stupor after a moment, though, tightening his grip on his crutch as he limped his way down the stairs.

Inside the room, Scar was already packing away as many supplies as he could into his bag—food, medical supplies, ammo, matches.

Grian watched his frantic packing for a moment before limping closer to the table to help. Scar wordlessly passed him his extra bag, the one he used when collecting firewood. By now, Grian was fairly familiar with how Scar stored away and organized his supplies, which was to say he didn't, despite the man protesting otherwise when Grian pointed it out once.

They made quick work of the supplies, storing away everything deemed necessary and leaving behind the less important items. Scar packed away two bedrolls, and Grian briefly wondered if he'd found that extra one on purpose, as he didn't recall seeing it when he'd first arrived here.

As Scar began shrugging on his backpack and strapping his rifle to it, Grian knelt to shove on his boots, wincing as the movement tugged at his ankle. He laced them up quickly, straightening back up only to see Scar holding out a coat for him.

"Here." Scar tossed it to Grian, who caught it in his arms easily, his fingers running over the thick, woolly fabric. "I found it the other day. I thought you could use it since your old one is…well." He motioned towards Grian's shoulder, the white bandages peeking out from under his red sweater. "Y'know."

Grian huffed, tugging the coat on, slightly surprised at how well it fit. Scar must have been specifically looking for one his size. "Shredded?" He offered with a slight chuckle, pulling it over his shoulders and adjusting the sleeves around his wrists.

"Yeah, that," Scar agreed with a soft breath of laughter.

They made quick work of the rest of the space, finishing up their packing as they bundled up for warmth in preparation to head out into the snow. Scar doused the flames of the fireplace, picking up the oil lantern set aside on the coffee table, turning the flames off before clipping the handle of the lantern to his backpack.

Grian felt a sense of dread building at the thought of leaving, still wondering what exactly scared Scar so bad that he deemed their immediate departure more important than waiting out the coming blizzard. He shivered at the thought of being trapped out there in the storm, snow whipping into his face and stinging his eyes. Would they even find shelter in time?

But still, given Scar's reaction, Grian doubted staying here would be a better option.

They made their way up into the sanctuary again, Scar leading the way up. Grian used his crutch to help him up the stone steps, limping along behind the man. The added weight of the backpack hindered his balance slightly, given how he could only wear it on one shoulder due to the still-healing injury on the other.

As they entered the main floor, Grian could see Scar's eyes darting all around the sanctum, looking to each window before he stepped out from behind the altar, motioning for Grian to follow.

They quickly reached the wooden doors at the front of the church, but Scar hesitated before opening them. Outside, Grian could only hear the sound of the wind blowing against the side of the church, kicking up snow and frosting against the glass of the windows.

Scar was peering out the panes of one of them, green eyes scanning along the ground outside the door, as if checking that nothing was out there. Grian once again had that creeping wonder of what possibly could be scaring Scar this much, but before he could open his mouth to ask again, Scar reached for the door.

"Come on. We'll head around back, towards the forest," Scar explained quickly, his gloved hands wrapping around the door handle.

"Scar," Grian cut in quickly, reaching out to catch Scar's gloved fingers before they could pull the door open. "Who is out there? Is it those creatures?"

Scar blinked, eyes lingering on Grian's hand over his, before looking back at him. "It's… a long story," he started, almost sheepishly. "But it's not those Watchers I'm worried about."

Grian frowned. "Who is it then? Survivors?"

"A group of them," Scar confirmed. "They're… It's a lot."

"They're after you," Grian guessed, more of a statement than a question.

Scar nodded before glancing back out the window anxiously. His hand twitched beneath Grian's, as if he were scared someone would burst through the doors at any moment.

After a long breath, Scar turned back to him, his green eyes suddenly unreadable to Grian, but his mouth was set in a firm line, his usual smile lines jarringly absent. "Grian," he started, voice low. "Look, they're after me, not you. You—you can still hide from them, if you want. It's not safe in this church anymore, but if you leave me, they won't follow you. Head to the town, leave me to—"

"Whoa— wait, Scar," Grian interrupted, his eyes widening. "What—what are you talking about? You just want me to leave you?"

"It would be safer, G. They're not after you, but once they see you with me, they will be. It's not fair for you—"

Grian scoffed. "Scar, the world ending was unfair. This is nothing."

"These guys are dangerous, Grian. They have resources, numbers, and weapons," Scar warned.

"I'm going with you," Grian said firmly, narrowing his eyes slightly as if challenging Scar to argue with him further.

He wasn't exactly sure when this chance in him had happened. Why was he so set on staying with Scar now, despite his plans on leaving the moment he was healed enough to leave? Scar was practically handing him an out on a silver platter, yet here Grian was, refusing it. He knew, realistically, he was healed enough to go off on his own, even with the limp. He had been, at least for a few days. He’d only been using the crutch lately since it was easier.

After months of avoiding other survivors at all costs, hiding away by himself and surviving alone, why would he suddenly want to stick around now?

(He knew the answer. It was simple. He didn't want to. But that was too overwhelming and terrifying for him to admit, even to himself.)

Scar pressed his lips into a thin line, staring down at Grian for a long moment, before sighing. "Fine," he relented. He moved his hand, the one Grian had grabbed. Was still grabbing—warm, gloved fingers wrapped around the other's.

Both of their breaths hitched. Scar's hand had dropped from the door at some point in their conversation without their realization, and the two were now holding hands as they stood there.

They both quickly dropped each other's hands, Grian pulling it back to his side, shuffling his crutch, as Scar turned to look out the window, though Grian caught the tint of red along his cheeks. He was sure he looked the same.

Scar stiffened, his body tensing as if he'd seen something. "We need to leave," he decided hurriedly, hand grabbing at the door again to pull it open.

Grian's breath stuttered as the chill wind hit him, flakes of snow flying in to land on the stone floor. Scar led the way out, motioning Grian along.

As he stepped out, the sound of voices on the wind caught his attention. He stiffened, moving closer to Scar as the man began leading them around the side of the church, heading towards the nearby forest as planned. Grian struggled to navigate his way through the snow with his crutch, his ankle sending sparks of pain through his leg in protest, but he didn't slow.

They followed Scar's previous footsteps from that morning, barely visible through the freshly fallen snow. The sky was darkening by now, the blizzard gathering in the chill air and threatening to send snowfalls at any moment.

Leaving the church behind, Grian didn't dare look back, for fear of slowing their progress. He still didn't know who it was that was after Scar, but it was clear to him they were bad news. Behind him, he could still hear voices shouting, though the words were lost as the wind whipped them away.

He blinked frost from his lashes, using his free hand to brush the flakes from his vision. The trees were in sight, providing proper shelter against the falling snow, as long as they could reach the treeline in time.

Scar stiffened ahead of him, suddenly stopping dead in his tracks.

Grian bumped against his shoulder, pausing in his footsteps as well. "What-"

"Leaving so soon, Scar?" A voice called from ahead of them.

Grian peered over Scar's shoulder to see two figures walking towards them in the snow, cutting off their route to the forest. He squinted, barely able to make out the broad shoulders of the man in front, wearing a deep red, fur-lined coat that made him look twice his size. Behind him was another man, slightly smaller in size, also wearing a thick coat, though, around his head, he was sporting a green headband. An axe was strapped to his back.

"Ren," Scar grit out, his green eyes narrowed as he stared down the man in the red coat—Ren, apparently.

Ren tilted his head, as if taking in the sight of Scar, though his eyes lingered on Grian behind him for just a moment. "Where are we headed off to, gentlemen?"

"We're just leaving," Scar responded evenly, straightening his shoulders slightly.

"I don't think so." The man behind Ren stepped forward then. Grian's breath hitched as he saw he'd pulled the axe from its place on his back, now holding it in both hands. "You were supposed to be gone weeks ago, like our deal clearly stated."

Scar tensed in front of Grian, but he kept his expression even. "Well, deals change. You barely noticed me, anyway. I left enough supplies for you and your group."

What deal? Grian wondered quietly, eyes flicking between Scar and the two men. Scar had never mentioned a deal he'd made before. Though he'd also never mentioned who Ren and this mysterious group were to Grian, either.

Ren narrowed his eyes. "That's not how our deals work, Scar. You should know this by now. I allow you to stay on our hunting grounds out of the kindness of my heart, and this is what I get in return? Lies and pilfering?"

"Who's to say these are your hunting grounds anyway? Last I checked, I was here first."

"And yet, you agreed to leave in a month's time," the second man cut in, tightening his grip on the axe handle. "You're nearly a week overdue." His eyes then cut to Grian, who tensed slightly as those piercing blue eyes landed on him. "And you've brought in a stray."

Grian bristled slightly at the word, but Scar spoke up before he could. "Well, we're leaving now, so just let us through, and we won't be causing any more trouble."

"You always cause trouble," the man pointed out, though instead of insulted, Scar seemed almost happy at that.

Ren stepped forward, motioning the other man back a step. "I agree with Martyn on that. I don't trust your word, Scar. You've overstayed your welcome and taken a cut of our supplies here. I expect a repayment."

"You know I don't do those, Ren," Scar replied, his voice still even in tone despite the clear threat of the weapon present. Grian could tell Martyn was not at all impressed by it, given the slight twitch in the man's eye each time Scar spoke. "Surely we can work out another agreement?"

Marytn stepped forward again. "Another agreement? Just so you can go and break it again?"

Ren nudged Marytn back again, but turned his glare to Scar. "Deals are off, Scar. I know how you work."

A sudden wind blew across the field, sending up flurries of snow that seemed to thicken with each passing second. Grian shivered, glancing up at the sky to see that the darkening clouds were getting closer to them with the promise of an impending blizzard.

The others seemed to notice this as well. Scar tilted his head back to survey the sky, a slight furrow in his brow. Ren muttered something under his breath, his eyes tracking the dark clouds, and Martyn shivered next to him.

Scar turned his gaze back to Ren, seemingly completely unfazed by the building storm overhead. "Blizzard's moving in," he commented lightly, shifting his feet in the snow.

Ren narrowed as he returned his gaze to Scar. "That blizzard is about to be the least of your worries. You're not leaving here until you hand over your supplies. All of them." He motioned towards the backpack on Scar's back, and Grian tensed as he realized the man's fingers were now curled around the hilt of a jagged blade.

Scar held up his palms in mock surrender. "Alright, gentlemen. There's no need to get feisty. Why don't you two just let us pass, take your men, and head back to your base? There's no reason to be out in a blizzard for just a few meager supplies. Surely you wouldn't want your men to freeze to death out here?"

Ren tightened his hold on his blade. Beside him, Martyn stepped forward, his blue eyes glinting as if he were itching to bring his axe down on Scar's neck. "Drop the bags, Scar, and maybe we'll let you and your stray live."

Grian could see the way Scar's expression tightened at that. Clearly, Martyn and Ren were in no mood to keep chatting, and Scar was running out of tricks. Grian cursed himself mentally, his hand itching for the reassuring weight of his lost dagger. He really should have found a replacement by now.

The wind blew sharper, causing Grian to shift his weight to keep himself standing. The flurries were getting thicker, the snow rising steadily as they stood there. The faint shape of the treeline was getting harder and harder to see through the white flakes swirling in the air.

Finally, after a long, tense standoff between the three men, Scar finally sighed. He shifted his stance, hand reaching for the strap of his backpack.

Marytn stepped back, his axe lowering slightly, though he was still watching both Scar and Grian like a hawk. A smug expression crossed Ren's face as he leaned back on his heels in the snow, sheathing his jagged blade in a sheath at his hip.

Grian tensed beside Scar, part of him slightly surprised that Scar was giving in this easily. Though given the encroaching blizzard and their lack of easy escape, he knew it was the safest option for them. The loss still stung bitterly in his chest.

"Ren!" A sudden shout cut through the air, causing all four men to spin around to see a shape running along through the snow, a hand held over their eyes to shield them from the swirling flakes.

Both Ren and Martyn tensed as the man came stumbling through the snow, his movements clearly panicked, nearly tripping over his own feet.

"BigB?" Ren questioned, brows furrowed as he looked at the man.

"Ren—Martyn—" the man—BigB—panted out, his eyes wide. "It—it's Skizz! Those—those creatures came back—"

Marytn tightened his hold on his axe, his blue eyes widening. "Where's Etho?"

"He's with Skizz—but there are too many!" BigB insisted. He looked to Ren imploringly. "We need help."

Ren cursed under his breath, his eyes flicking back to Scar and Grian, then back to BigB, a thousand different expressions crossing his face in a matter of moments. He sighed. "Martyn, BigB, go on. I'll be right behind you."

Martyn nodded firmly, quickly moving to follow after BigB through the snow and vanishing in the white.

Ren turned back to the two of them, his gaze hard. He unsheathed his blade again, pointing it at Scar's neck. "This isn't over, Scar. Consider yourself an enemy of the Red Army." With that, the man turned away, following after the tracks of Martyn and BigB through the snow, back towards the town.

Scar turned to watch him go, a smug expression on his face, despite how close they'd come to losing everything.

Grian's eyes trailed after Ren's retreating form in the snow until the man disappeared, a breath of relief finally escaping his chest. He shifted where he stood, leaning heavily against his crutch as he felt the creeping numbness of cold creeping up his hands and feet. He grabbed Scar's coat sleeve. "Come on."

Together, they stumbled through the snow, Grian struggling slightly with the use of his crutch, though Scar kept close to his side, helping to steady him as they walked. The wind whipped past their face, stinging their eyes with the snow it kicked up through the air, the flakes falling faster and heavier with each passing second.

"That was close," Scar commented as they finally made it to the treeline, ducking into the white-covered forest. The trees and bushes provided some amount of shielding from the fierce winds and thick snowfall, though it was nothing compared to proper shelter.

"Too close," Grian muttered, using his gloved hand to brush the building frost from his lashes and nose. "You never mentioned a deal to me before."

Scar frowned. "I didn't think it would be important. I was hoping they'd forgotten about it, honestly."

For all his frustration with the man, Grian couldn't help but huff a surprised laugh at Scar's reasoning. "Really? They'd just forget about it?"

"Well, yeah!" Scar insisted, sounding almost offended that Grian was laughing at him. "It's not like they ever checked to see if I left or not, so really it's on them," he added with a shrug.

Grian huffed. "Still. You could've told me."

Scar hummed. "…you're right," he agreed, though something in his tone told Grian he wanted to say more.

They continued their trek through the snow-covered forest, and Grian found himself leaning more against Scar's side as they walked. He told himself it was just because his arm was getting tired of relying on his crutch, and the man easily supported him as they walked. The fact that Scar was warm against his side was just an added benefit.

It was only luck that they happened to come across a sheltered cave just before the worst of the blizzard settled in. Well, luck, and the fact that Grian had already sheltered in this cave once before he'd come across the town and, subsequently, Scar. After realizing he knew the section of the forest they were walking through, he'd managed to lead them back to the cave.

It was half-hidden in the snow, set back into a rough rock face under a small ledge, where a tree's roots spilled down the front opening of it from above. They had to dig the built-up snow away to reveal the entrance, a tight squeeze between the rocks and thick roots that framed the hole.

Though once they'd both pushed their way through—Grian first, thanks to his smaller stature—the inside of the cave was relatively spacious. The rocks inside were smooth, as if they had once been worn in and submerged in water a long time ago. A few roots from the tree above the cave had wormed their way through the rocks, trailing down along the walls in crisscrossing patterns.

In the center of the room, a pile of dry kindling and charred sticks remained untouched from Grian's three nights spent here, the only sign that this place had been visited for a while.

Scar stepped into the cave behind him, pulling his backpack and rifle in alongside him, since he had to take them off to get inside. Grian shrugged off his own pack, setting it aside and leaning back against the cave wall to give his ankle a well-deserved break.

"Nice place," Scar commented after a moment, his boot scuffing at the meager remains of a fire on the floor.

Grian breathed a soft chuckle, sliding down to sit on the ground, resting his crutch beside him as he clenched and unclenched his fingers to work the feeling back into them. He shivered as the chill air blew in through the entrance, the stone ice cold under his legs. "We should get a fire going."

Scar nodded. "I can handle that." He tugged his backpack closer as he began to rummage through it, pulling out a fire starter, along with three logs of firewood. "Good thing I left these in here…" he murmured to himself.

Grian watched as he began assembling the fire, placing the logs first, then adding the sticks on top and wedging the dry kindling in the center. He flicked the flint a few times, sparking under his gloved fingers before catching it to the kindling. The flames quickly sprang to life, eating away at the dry grass before jumping to the logs.

"There we go," Scar said after ensuring the fire wouldn't die out too soon. "Should last till morning, hopefully…"

The cave was already warming slightly thanks to the heat of the flames, and Grian scooted closer to them on the floor, slowly tugging off his gloves to warm his hands more quickly. "As long as it gets us through the blizzard, we'll be fine."

Scar huffed, settling on the floor beside Grian and pulling off his gloves too. "Good thing you found this place. I'd hate to be out there right now." He glanced back at the cave entrance, where the wind was now howling through the trees outside. Grian could barely make out the surrounding forest through all the snow flurries.

Grian shrugged. "It's not much for shelter, but I guess it can work for now."

Scar nudged his shoulder. "I guess you're really stuck with me now, G," he joked, stretching his hands out along the stone floor as he leaned back against them. "Those Red Army guys will probably be after you now, too."

Grian rolled his eyes. "Oh, great. As if the end of the world couldn't get any better," he murmured, though he found himself leaning closer against Scar's side as they sat before the fire.

"Who exactly were those guys, anyway?" Grian asked after a long moment of comfortable silence had stretched between them.

Scar shifted next to him, his fingers curling into the thick fabric of his gloves that he held in his lap. "They're… ah, they're just a group of survivors, really," he explained. "They like to stick around one area for a while, take all the supplies they can find, then move on somewhere else. Ren is, like their leader, I guess. Marytn's his lackey, and Skizz, Etho, and BigB work for them."

Grian frowned. "Why do they call themselves the Red Army?"

Scar shrugged. "No idea. Ren's kind of into the dramatics, I think. The rest of them just go along with it. But they're dangerous, no matter how reasonable they seem. They look out for only themselves."

"Yeah, I got that," Grian huffed, thinking back to Martyn's sharpened axe. "…so what did you do to upset them?" He asked after a moment of thought.

A soft chuckle came from Scar. "I broke my deal with them. Ren had approached me with an offer when they first arrived in that town. He said he'd let me have a share of supplies, as long as I helped keep those creatures away, and left within a month."

A wry smile tugged at Grian's lips. "You didn't leave."

Scar shook his head. "Of course not. That town had more than enough for them to share, and I wasn't about to let them shove me around. Besides, it's not like they were checking to see if I had left or not. And I think they owed me more than a month for shooting down those Watchers for them!"

Grian snickered softly, feeling himself leaning closer into the warmth of Scar's side before quickly catching himself. He stiffened, pulling away slightly and averting his eyes, suddenly becoming very interested in picking at the bandages wrapped around his ankle. The white wrappings were a bit damp now, still cold against his skin from the snow, but slowly warming thanks to the fire.

He continued to look away from Scar, clearing his throat. "I should change these. The snow soaked through," he said quickly, bracing his hands against the stone ground and shifting away from the warmth of Scar and the fire to stretch out his leg, wincing as he felt the stiffness in the muscle from the long trek through the snow.

"Here," Scar called, grabbing the med kit from his bag and tossing it over to Grian.

Grian caught it easily in his lap, moving to lean back against the wall as he opened it up. "Thanks."

Scar flashed him a smile before beginning to rummage through his backpack, pulling out a bedroll and some of their food supplies. "While you take care of that, I'll handle dinner."

Grian nodded, settling himself in as he carefully pulled his ankle into his lap, tugging off his boot to begin unwinding the bandages around it.

Outside, the wind continued to whistle along through the trees, filling the silence with the rustling of the trees and undergrowth outside. Snow flurries swirled through the air wildly, some drifting in through the tree roots of the cave opening, though the heat of the fire caused them to melt rather quickly.

The two of them settled in silence as they worked, Grian re-wrapping his ankle and his shoulder, while also poking at the still-tender scar on his side, ensuring it hadn't been ripped open on their hasty departure from the church.

Eventually, night began to settle over the forest. The light of the setting sun dimmed before vanishing entirely in the swirling flakes of the blizzard. By then, Grian had finished checking over his wounds and now leaned back against the cave wall, letting the warmth of the fire chase away the lasting chills in his body.

Scar turned back to him after a moment, passing him a can of warmed vegetable soup that he'd been cooking over the fire, cracked open with a spoon resting inside.

Grian accepted it gratefully, stirring the spoon inside the can absently, watching Scar as he poked at the fire with a spare stick he'd found earlier, watching the flames burn brighter as the fire crackled in the quiet cave.

They ate in relative silence, only a few words exchanged between spoonfuls, small comments traded under the howling winds of the blizzard outside. The fire continued to burn, warding off the chill, allowing them both to shed their jackets as they began to spread out two bedrolls.

Scar placed his rifle and backpack next to his bedroll, keeping the weapon within easy grabbing distance should any of those creatures try to enter the cave. Though neither were really worried about that being a possibility, as those things usually stayed holed away somewhere during the blizzards.

Grian lay back on his bedroll as Scar settled onto his own, tugging off his boots and thick coat and setting them aside. He kept his crutch within easy grabbing distance, propped up against a tangle of roots along the wall.

"Let's hope we don't get snowed in by morning," Scar joked lightly, though they both knew that was a very real concern for them. The blizzard was still going strong, the snow piling higher.

"Surely it won't last that long?" Grian murmured, eyeing the built-up snow around the roots of the cave entrance.

Scar frowned. "Probably not. But you never know," he added with a shrug. "At least we'll be safe from those creatures and Ren and his group."

"The Red Army can't find us then," Grian snickered, trying to ignore the worry building in his stomach. Surely the blizzard won't last that long, and even then, they could always dig themselves out in the morning.

"Exactly," Scar agreed, shifting to get comfortable on his bedroll and lying back against it.

They fell into another silence then. Grian stared out the front of the cave, feeling the pull of exhaustion at his eyelids and mind, despite his racing thoughts.

It wasn't likely that Ren and his group would follow them into the forest now, not during the blizzard, at least. And, from what he'd heard from BigB's interruption, it seemed he was at least down one or two men, depending on how hurt they were by those creatures' attack. They were safe for the night, but who was to say what happened once morning came?

"G?" Scar questioned then, breaking Grian from his thoughts. The man's lighthearted tone from earlier had faded by now, his lips set in a thin line.

Grian looked at him. "Hm?"

"I just—… I didn't want to bring you into my mess," he started, stumbling over his words slightly as if he were struggling with what to say.

Grian frowned, opening his mouth to cut in, but Scar stopped him.

"I should have told you about them, I know. And so I won't blame you if you want to leave when you can. They might be angry at you, but they're more angry at me, so—"

"Scar—"

"You can leave in the morning. Go our separate ways! You're healed enough to be fine on your own, I'm sure."

"Scar—"

"You don't have to be involved in this, that's all I'm saying! It's one thing to be hunted by those Watchers, but it's another to be hunted by the Red Army—"

Grian made a noise of exasperation. "Scar, stop."

Scar finally got the message, his ramblings quieting immediately as he clicked his jaw shut, staring at Grian with those wide green eyes that seemed to glow in the dancing firelight.

Grian sighed, letting the silence fill the space for a moment before speaking. "While I would have liked it if you'd told me about the Red Army before they came after us, that doesn't mean I'm leaving now," he started carefully, despite how loud his heart was pounding in his ears.

They'd already had this conversation once before, and despite how Grian now knew what the danger was, he still couldn't see himself even wanting to leave. It was definitely a horrible and reckless thought, one that could only lead to more problems for both him and Scar, but Grian couldn't just leave. Not now.

He felt the needle-like pinpricks starting up again at his lower back, but he took a deep breath and ignored the burning sensation. "I'm not leaving, Scar. I don't care how dangerous these guys are; you're stuck with me now."

Scar's eyes flicked over his face for a long moment, searching. Grian held firm, keeping his expression firm and resolute, until finally, the man spoke again. "…you're sure?" He asked quietly.

Grian nodded. "Yes. I was sure the first time you asked, and I am still sure now."

A look of silent relief crossed Scar's face, his tensed shoulders relaxing as a soft smile tugged at his lips. "…if you say so, G."

Grian sighed, though he couldn't help the smile that formed on his own face. "Sometimes I wonder how you've survived this long on your own."

Scar chuckled, his smile brightening. "Why, it's thanks to my amazing skills and charming looks, that's how!"

Grian snickered. "I don't think charm works on Watchers."

"Sure it does! I bet I could charm a Watcher, easy."

"Charm it into eating you, maybe," Grian huffed, flopping back onto his bedroll with an exaggerated yawn.

Scar chuckled, shifting to lie down on his bedroll as well. "Get some sleep, G," he said softly.

Grian pulled his jacket over himself, shifting on his side to get comfortable as the combination of warmth and the sound of the fire crackling lulled him into a deeper state of exhaustion, his eyes slipping shut of their own accord. "You get some sleep," he huffed, though the effect of the retort was lost as he sank further into sleep.

"Don't worry about me," Scar murmured, and Grian could hear him settling in for sleep as well.

He hummed in response, his thoughts slowing as a wave of tiredness washed over him. Grian hadn't realized how tired he'd been up until now, warm and safe with a full stomach. He let his mind sink beneath the exhaustion pulling at him, letting the soft sounds of Scar's breathing and the crackling of the fire lull him to sleep.