15. Vesper #3
“Yeah,” I reply, closing my map. “We’ll take turns sleeping when it’s time.”
We continue to push through the forest, avoiding snapping flowers and more of the Snaptrap creatures.
We walk for an hour, the sun starting to sink in the sky as we move.
Locke and I don’t speak, focusing on moving as efficiently through the forest as possible, searching for somewhere to take cover for the night.
There’s no way to know what will happen once the darkness closes in. We’ll have to be prepared for anything.
When the sun hits the horizon, we finally step through the trees into a small clearing. The pale light paints the sky above us in shades of pink and orange, and I look up at it in awe as we get an upfront view of it now that the tree canopies aren’t above us.
The clearing isn’t large. If Locke and I laid down end to end, we would touch each side. But there are none of the larger plants anywhere near the clearing, and those at the edges are of the tiny variety.
“This will work,” I announce, walking around the small clearing to check for any creatures. “Flat ground. No plants except for the grass. Seems as safe as we’re going to get.”
Locke nods. “Then we camp here for the night.”
Dark blue begins to seep into the oranges above us, letting us know we won’t have light for much longer.
“You didn’t happen to pick up anything that makes fire, did you?” Locke asks me as he sits down on the soft grass.
I pop open my inventory and scroll through it. “I have . . . two sticks we can rub together.”
Locke sighs. “Alright. Give ’em here. I’ll start working on it if you try and find us something to eat around the clearing.”
I pass him the two dry sticks and then spend the next five minutes trailing around the clearing, daring to step into the forest a few feet to look for food, but there’s nothing. No fruit. No leaves I can trust are edible. No animals that look like they’d taste good.
“Nothing,” I admit, coming back to sit down. My stomach gives a grumble of protest at the admission, begging for more of the amazing food from AppleFrog’s. I get mad all over again about the food disappearing from my inventory.
“Looks like it’s a night of hunger then,” Locke sighs and glances at me. “You good with that?”
“What? You think I’ve never starved before?
” I ask, raising my brow. “Just because I appreciate the safehouse food here doesn’t mean I can’t last a night of being hungry.
I went two weeks before without food. I don’t like it.
But I can survive.” I sit down and lean back on my arms. “I’m more worried about you and the cushy lifestyle you probably lived at Black Abacus. ”
He doesn’t look up at me with my comment. He doesn’t tense, or react at all. But his words hit me in the chest regardless. “Cushy isn’t exactly the word I would use,” he mumbles. “But you’re right. I haven’t had to starve in a while. Not unless I did something she didn’t agree with.”
Finally, his eyes meet mine.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” he says, cutting off my apology. “It’s just a fact of life. It hardly matters now. I’m in the Harrow. Black Abacus is back in Dross where it belongs.”
I study him, really take him in. Locke is a pretty man.
The black ink on anyone else would look jarring and aggressive, but somehow, it just makes him prettier.
I can see why he was part of Black Abacus.
I can see why he got that barcode tattoo, but I know I could never stomach the position. I wonder how he was able to.
He leans over the two sticks, rubbing them together until a thin line of smoke starts to trail up from it.
A few seconds later, the smallest flame sparks to life and begins to grow, just in time for the sun to set completely.
When the clearing would have been cast into darkness, the fire lights it instead, casting long shadows across the trees around us.
When the fire seems to be breathing just fine, I lay back on the grass and finally look up at the sky.
“Wow,” I breathe, staring at the scene above me. “Look at them all.”
Locke follows my gaze, raising a brow as he looks up. “The stars?”
I jerk in surprise, looking back down into his eyes. “What? How do you know what they are?”
“I was a Spine Jacker,” he shrugs. “A high paid one. I’ve gone through the ring channels that the Astronomers use. You can see the stars from the other side not facing the dwarf star. I’ve seen the other ring, too.” He frowns. “Though these stars look different from the ones back in Dross.”
“The star system here is the same that surrounded Earth, the Milky Way Galaxy,” Cipher chips in.
“The Cradle is within Alpha Centauri which is a Triple Star System. It is Earth’s closest stellar neighbor and was chosen due to the similarity of one of its stars to Earth’s star named Sol, the red dwarf Proxima Centauri of which you are familiar.
It was chosen due to its abundant resources and ability to sustain humanity. ”
“And that?” I ask, pointing to a larger star, so big, it almost looks like there’s a face in it from its details.
“That is Earth’s Moon. It orbits the Earth, and as it orbits, distinct parts of the moon are lit by the sun. You will see various phases throughout your time here. It is the only natural satellite of this planet.”
“So, it’s the same as the sun?” I ask. “Just dark?”
“No. Earth orbits the sun,” Cipher corrects. “The moon orbits Earth. The moon reflects the light of the sun. It does not produce any light of its own.”
“Well, it’s beautiful,” I breathe.
And I mean it. I’ve never seen a sky littered with sparks like this. As if there are millions of people welding pieces together into a blanket above us.
“I’ll take first watch,” I tell Locke, who accepts my declaration and goes to sleep almost immediately.
I sit up the entire time, switching my gaze from the surrounding trees to watch for danger, and looking up at the stars.
I wake up Locke three hours later to take watch while I get as much rest as possible.
The moment my head lands on my arm and I close my eyes, I fall into unconsciousness, my body demanding rest. When I dream, I dream of floating among the stars above me.
What it must look like when you’re among them.
I wonder if my mother ever got to see these stars.
I wonder what poetry Dox will write about them when she does.
For me, I paint them into my memory and plan to never let them go.