Isolation in Fate

The nights were getting colder.

Walker and Camryn had been on the road for nearly four days now, and from the way Cam had spoken of things, they were probably another three or four away, at the least.

Thankfully, however, the weather had been clear, and the roads free of any clutter besides the occasional band of travelers or a caravan shifting foods from s'Kraid lands to some other portion of the Empire. The people they met were road-weary, but friendly, and the few traders they had passed had been happy to deal with the two of them in passing – Food, blankets, a few sets of clothing to add to the few Walker had already bought for himself in town, upon Cam's realization that he had little in the way of belongings.

They'd also procured a horse for Walker, by some chance of fate. Cam's palomino was moody, fidgety, and oftentimes tried to lead itself off the road, but nonetheless sure-footed and sound. Walker, on the other hand, had been saddled with – literally – a slow, placid nag of a horse. She was sweet-natured, calm, and followed the directions she was given, but was, well, old. The ride was not smooth, and the first days of the ride left red, raw sores on the insides of Walker's thighs – Ones he'd insisted on tending to himself, despite Cam's insistence he take a look.

And Walker had begun to get to know Cam, just a little bit, in the process.

The man was a shameless ball of sexual energy, with a reckless streak a mile wide. The conversations that had become more and more common over the days had been steadily growing longer, and as the wall of uneasiness lifted, so to did the false veil of Cam's supposed shame.

He flirted, he teased, and he cajoled. And he did it all without putting any thought into it. The few conversations he'd seen Cam carry on with attractive women had gone much the same, but at least with men, he'd been mostly no-nonsense and cordial. It made Walker feel uncomfortable, and often the conversations ended with the dark-haired man red in the face and sputtering.

Not to mention, wondering why he was treated so much like the women Cam talked with.

Nevertheless, it made the long trip slightly shorter, and the increasingly colder nights around a makeshift campfire as they readied for bed were enjoyable, even if meals were little more than hard tack or dried fruit. Sometimes both. Usually when Walker had insisted.

As stubborn as Cam seemed to be, he gave in rather easily when it came to Walker's moods, and the boy's sweet tooth seemed to be ever present.

Flat plains and rocky outcroppings steadily gave way to trees and shrubs, then steep inclines that gave the horses trouble, especially the nag Walker was stuck with. The handful of clumped foliage eventually turned to veritable forest; Tall, ancient pine trees and evergreen bushes loaded with succulent-looking but apparently poisonous berries, or so Cam warned.

*****

Walker chewed absently on a piece of dried beef as they plodded along, attempting to appease the low growl in his belly. He hoped they made camp soon. His thighs hurt, his back hurt, and he was, as preciously mentioned, hungry. And tired. Very tired.

He hadn't gotten a proper night's sleep in the half a week they'd been riding – Something in his dreams kept waking him, and he could never quite remember what. And once he was awake, he wasn't able to go back to sleep.

But the dark circles under his eyes could be ignored, as could the weary ache in his bones. At least for a little while. Cam was the first person to treat him nicely since he left the home of the old couple that had cared for him. Honestly, the blond man was probably the closest thing Walker had to a friend in the world, and to top it off, had promised to help him find out who he was.

So, he could deal with a week and then some of soreness and tiredness.

For now.

*****

Night was here.

The sun had set hours ago, and the moon could be seen only by the barest slivers of silvery light piercing the canopy above them. They'd ridden still, Cam determined to make better time tonight than the days before. Apparently, Walker's condition had slowed them down considerably, and Cam was attempting to hurry the journey along.

As a result, Walker was worse for wear than usual tonight.

He was stretched out along his bedroll, legs splayed to either side and bare feet in the damp coating of pine needles surrounding them. They'd cleared a nice space for the horses to graze, and found a thick layer of grass underneath, despite it being buried under layers of the prickly, fragrant foliage.

The boy rubbed at his inner thighs through his trousers. He was bandaged up to prevent the raw skin from getting any worse, but the ache was still there, even though he was healing and developing tougher skin as a result. The muscles weren't used to that damn horse's wobbly, loping strides.

“You know, if you'd just let me tend to your legs, you'd feel better. You don't have to be so stubborn.” called Cam, over the crackle of the fire and the bubble of the pot hung above it.

They'd found a handful of wild herbs, as well as a couple of roots that were painstakingly peeled and chopped to throw into the pot, along with the remainder of their dried meat. There wasn't much left to begin with, and they still had the hard tack, anyway, so Walker had figured a stew would be better than... not stew. He was tired of cold meals, especially since the nights were getting colder.

“And subject myself to a repeat of the first night after we started this journey?” responded Walker, sounding mildly irritated.

He'd developed a bit of an attitude, sometimes feisty, other times sulky, though most of the time he remained quiet, introspective, and confused, like a lost child. It didn't help much, though. Cam still fawned over him like the aforementioned child, and as much as he appreciated being pampered, it was getting ridiculous – Especially when the flirting had started. Which hadn't taken long.

That first night... Cam had taken the liberty of volunteering to tend to the raw skin of Walker's inner thighs, and did so well – The cool poultice Cam had applied dulled the pain considerably, and the bandages were wrapped tightly enough that they didn't chafe. But the wandering hands, playful as they might be, and despite the fact that he still had smallclothes on, had been unwelcome, and Cam ended the night with the backs of his hands red from constant slaps to warn him off of touching.

Walker wasn't sure if those roving hands had been playful or if they were serious, but Cam's shamelessness came to light that night, as well as his flirting.

“Hey. After you slapped me around, I don't plan on trying that again. It doesn't take a trained eye to see that those bandages need changing, and you're miserable.” the blond quipped, peering up over the waft of smoke riding from the fire.

“C'mon. You can't do it yourself. I promise I'll keep my hands in check.” he added, “Unless you ask me not to.”

Cam ducked in time to avoid a pinecone thrown at his head.

“Feisty.”

“Just come help me already.” sighed Walker, letting his head drop onto the wadded leather 'pillow' he'd commandeered from Cam the night before last.

There was a grunt, and a shift, and the crunch of mine needles underfoot – Cam approaching, no doubt, though Walker didn't bother looking, eyes aimed towards the dense, sky-blocking treetops above.

There were hands on his hips suddenly, a weight on his bedroll beside him. Walker turned his head, nestling into the pillow of his loose hair, and glared at Cam.

“No wandering.” he warned, again.

“Of course, princess.” came the blond's laughing voice, the man's blue eyes fixed on his own, sparkling in the firelight.

Cam was attractive. Walker had to admit it. Close cropped, blond hair, sprinkled with red, the shade of a few days of growth on his chin and cheeks, surrounding the trimmed goatee. Muscled, not too heavily, but considerably moreso than the whip-thin, almost emaciated shape Walker had. He was smiling a lot, almost constantly, and his eyes twinkled with it. Blue, blue eyes, like the sea.

He'd look better clean-shaven. Thought Walker, absently, as he closed his thighs and lifted his hips to allow the larger man to tug them down and off.

Walker's face flushed red, he could feel it, and quickly he turned his head to the other side in time to tug his feet free of the pants and spread his legs again. This felt... almost sexual. Not that Walker could remember having had sex before. But the touch of calloused, gentle fingers on his thighs was almost erotic, and he knew that he'd have to bite down on his lower lip to prevent the signs from showing.

He liked Cam. The man was gentle, handsome, and sunny in personality. It didn't help that Cam flirted constantly, either, nor that the way he treated Walker was almost loving. But sometimes, Walker got the feeling that their interactions confused Cam, and made him uncomfortable. He couldn't tell if the attraction was mutual, or if Cam simply thought of him as a brother – or a travel companion. At the least, they were friends. He didn't want anything to ruin that, at least.

The bandages coming unwound were uncomfortable, and the poultice that had dried somewhat made the linen stick to his thighs and tug at the tender skin, making his legs twitch and the small man grunt in pain.

“See why I told you to let me do this? You haven't been binding them tightly enough. They're making it worse as fast as they're making it better.” Cam grunted, tossing the soiled linen to the side for washing later.

Walker hazarded a glance – The skin was raw and chafed, and he was bleeding in a few places where the bandages had dried to his flesh. It looked worse than it was because of the dull orange glow of the fire, of course, but he still knew he'd be in pain for a while, at least until he had time to heal.

The blond moved between his legs, and Walker could smell the minty scent of the balm Cam had been allowing him to use, before those rough fingers were touching him again, cooling moisture spreading over the burning heat of his chapped legs. The touch was gentle, light, and practiced, covering the chafed and bleeding skin in the subtly-green balm in slow strokes.

“Take your time much?” asked Walker, voice subtly husky. His lip hurt. The closeness of Cam, the smell of him, the touch on his thighs, was more than soothing – It took every ounce of willpower to keep himself calm.

“I could take longer if you wanted me to.” Cam purred, not wasting the chance to tease.

Fingers smoothed over the outsides of his hips, his thighs, under his buttocks – Walker took a moment to react, then yelped and jerked his hips into the air. He was wearing smallclothes, but admittedly it had stung. And felt rather nice, despite the pain. Whatever reply Walker had been thinking of was carried off.

“That too, huh? Well, I can't do much for your backside. You're riding with me on my horse, tomorrow.”

“And what if I say I don't want to?” quipped walker, shuffling backwards, way from the hands.

“Well, that's just too bad, then, isn't it?” finished Cam. He was obviously finished with the 'argument', and set immediately to winding the bandages around his thighs once more, tighter than Walker could have done himself. It took only a handful of minutes, and then Walker was pulling his pants back on, teeth chattering slightly from the chill in the air.

The temperature was steadily dropping, suddenly. It hadn't been this cold the night before – It hadn't been this cold an hour before, even. But maybe he was the only one who felt it, because Cam, in vest and pants, didn't even show the signs of goosebumps.

“Get something to eat, then get some sleep. We need to be up at dawn tomorrow.”

*****

Dinner was a quiet ordeal, and by the time it was done, Cam had begun to feel the cold, as well. The two of them, after polishing off the remainder of possibly the last hot meal they'd have for the week, eventually collapsed into their respective bedrolls, and Walker, at least, drifted off soon after.

*****

Lights danced in front of his eyes; green, red, orange, blue.

He felt weightless, suspended feet from the ground. His fingers pressed against glass on all sides – something surrounded him, trapped him, kept him floating in this liquid prison.

Orange. The liquid around him was orange as the sun before it sets, in his eyes and mouth and ears. He couldn't breathe, wouldn't breathe.

He didn't need to breathe.

A face. Sinister. Cruel. Unknown. Featureless and blank.

The orange was gone suddenly. Walker was in a hall. The stone was black, streaked with the whorls of elemental magicks, the floor, the ceiling. Everything.

The words glowed. They burned.

They burned orange.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Walking. Running. His footsteps. Walker's footsteps. Splashing. Sliding.

He came to a halt in front of his own face. But his face was looking up at him from the stone floor below, hair spread in a pool of black-red blood that seeped into the cracks of the stone and traveled up the walls.

Warmth rained from above, blood spattered his hair and shoulders, and all he could do is stare at the battered, broken form of himself on the ground.

He was dead.

But he was alive.

…

Right?

*****

Walker woke with a jolt. His face was damp. Tears? No, snow. White flecks drifted from between the branches of the trees above to melt on his face, the rest lay in a light frost across the blanket covering the rest of him.

He stood. Left the blanket and makeshift pillow, ignored the cramping of his legs, and made his way around the dying embers of the fire, that hissed and spat at the touch of the floating flakes of ice.

Cam was asleep. Walker was not. He likely wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, but this time, he remembered the dream. He just didn't know what it meant.

He crept under the blanket, pressed himself to the warmth of the blond man, tipped his forehead forward until he felt bare, warm skin against it, and closed his eyes, pressed close to a source of comforting warmth.

And he slept. Dreamlessly, comfortably.