The light in your nightmares

From his position the boy hears them running.

Their breaths heavy and interrupted by a few panting sentences. Dust arrives to understand some part of it:

-"Faster"

-"Perhaps they have already reached the lake?

-"Impossible the Havocs...."

They walk away. His hand against the moist bark slips a little, and he strains his muscles anxiously to keep from falling. Tilting his head he sniffles.

Who would have thought it was so hard to hold back a cough. From his vantage point he can make out Suspicious's form in the dark.

This one firmly holds his lantern and remains motionless.

Even when they no longer hear the voices, the two young mens wait in their hiding place for a few more minutes.

Then when Dust feels he can't take it anymore, his feet already numb, he slowly slides down. Centimeters after centimeters. His soles touching the soft ground, he hastens to hide at the bottom of the hole. He only dares to lean a little to see outside, his hand clutching his knife.

Outside he sees nothing but trees. Suspicious descends from his position too.

Arrived on the ground, constrained by the narrow space, they find themselves tight against each other again. At eye level, the boy only sees the lower part of his chin and his Adam s apple rising and falling.

Their torsos are pressed together, they breathe in tandem.

The taller of the two doesn't say anything, he turns around somehow, his shoulder pushing Dust a little more against the bark with the movement.

The man checks the outside before leaving without further hesitation.

Dust looks at the back of his companion who moves away, sniffles and resolves to also come out of the entrails of the tree.

Outside an icy wind has risen. It hisses between the trees like a snake and lifts some of the boy's brown locks to pursue further.

His companion is already three meters away, observing the tracks left in the mud by those who have just left with a pensive air.

It seems he is still in the mood to talk because he says to Dust:

-Let's wait a bit for them to move away to follow them.

To follow them? Taken aback, the boy pauses. It takes him one minute or two to figure out for himself why they should follow them, the cold and dread paralyzing his thoughts. Afterwards he remembers that they too must go to the lake. An enemy it is better to have them in front of you than behind you.

With that thought he stifles another sneeze. Then he takes advantage of Suspicious' talkative mood to share his doubts with him:

-They seem more sane than when they attacked us in the cabins...

The red-haired man doesn't take long to respond, his blue eyes dropping from the footprints on the ground to resting on the boy's face.

- They are not the same.

The clearer the iris of the eyes, the more unbearable a person's gaze. Dust, who already has problems maintaining eye contact with people, tries somehow not to lower his eyes in front of his companion. The anxiety rising in his throat helps distract him.

He thinks about what Suspicious just said.

-They are... (the boy pauses again, he already knows the answer but what else can he do except hope) like us? I mean not sick?

Suspicious frowns, but his unbending gaze continues to stare at Dust. It looks like the man is deep in thought, not sure how to express himself about what he has seen.

-No. They were like corpses too. But their outfits... They weren't dressed like the others.

His voice dissipates in the cold air. He narrows his blue eyes before adding a second later.

-They are dressed like people who lived in the Middle Ages.

Dust tries to bring back his few locks which fly in all directions with the wind. He wonders for a moment: How were people dressed in the Middle Ages? The nobles, he knows, but the peasants? Before leaving this useless thought aside. To be frank, he would like to ask more of the man who accompanies him.

Were they armed? What were they equipped with if so? What directions were they coming from? How far is the lake? Has he seen anything other than the lake and these people? But Suspicious has made him notice his exasperation with all his questions and Dust doesn't want him irritated especially since he's much more in a friendly mood than in the cabins and he wouldn't want to spoil it.

Also, to be even more blunt, Suspicious' responses frustrate him. To ask questions of this man is to struggle with answers that explain nothing.

You have to push him to develop again and again, like pushing a stubborn donkey along a path to move forward, until you have all the necessary information. Instead Dust concentrates on what is important. From what he heard in the tree he can understand several things. First, the natives can organize themselves into groups and know where they are going.

And they don't seem to be all united in the same camp. or in any case do not have the same culture since they dress differently. "Impossible the Havocs.."

Who are the Havocs? The ones they met at the cabins? Or else? It is very likely that the natives are in fact very numerous in this swamp.

Thinking about it the huts have long since been abandoned if there are really several camps in this swamp of inhabitants then maybe they are killing each other too. Like in the dream they all had, the sick people may very well want to get out of this place. And to do so they only need a head. Anyone will do. Those who lived in the huts may have all died... it is also possible that those who have just passed do not wish them any harm.

After all, there are many here who would like to coexist without having to cause carnage.

But this supposition the young man puts it aside.

Its one thing to speculate it is another to bet his life on it.

It starts to rain again. Small drops of water, just as cold as the last rain, fall on the arch of his nose and on his shoulders. As there is no longer any danger, he no longer holds back.

He coughs and Suspicious sighs.

Dust isn't quite sure why the other sighs, but he doesn't like it.

He feels like the man is judging him as a lost cause.

The boy looks away, his brown eyes returning to the trunk of the gigantic tree that served as their hiding place.

To conceal two humans it must be very wide.

And to be wide it is.

Its branches cover the sky and oppress all the other trees around.

It looks like lightning struck it in places, but despite the burnt crack looming over one of its main arms and the huge hole in its trunk, it is the only one in the place that is more or less straight without being oddly twisted. like his colleagues.

However, he too has no leaves.

Dust coughs again. He uses his sleeves to collect his snot before deciding to move forward and then takes up his baton. His voice is low, he stutters at the beginning of his sentence, and he feels immediately embarrassed.

Earlier he managed to speak well with Suspicious, why is he having trouble again?

-W-we should go. They must be far away now.

The taller of the two runs a hand through his hair. Between his fingers, the strands of wet hair are like red threads that connects two souls destined for each other in Chinese culture. Except that at the base of these the natural shade of his hair, as red-orange as the fur of a fox, seems to be rust which gangrenes the mythical threads.

he sketches a smile, his nose like a notched arrow his lips take the form of a bow under tension.

Dust doesn't know what to make of that expression either.

His companion looks at him in a way quite friendly while seeming cold.

Normally Dust tries not to pay too much attention to the expression of the red haired man but as he waits for an answer from him he can only notice it.

-Yes.

Suspicious' voice is drawling. It still floats in the air while his owner is already walking again.

His shoes sinking into the mud where the traces of the natives of this marshland have been left.

The boy quickly follows him.

They walk side by side the rain pressing their clothes and their hair against their skins.

Still in a chatty mood, the taller of the two asks him in a teasing tone that surprises Dust.

-Tell me, what did you call me earlier?

The boy doesn't understand right away. The question comes out of nowhere, without context.

He glances at the man and blurts out a stupid "Huh."

Suspicious suddenly leans in his direction.

The lantern he is still holding is now trapped between the two men's abdomens.

The thorax of the larger of the two rises to inhale calmly.

The still valiant flame trembles under the light impact.

He chuckles, his smile growing wider. his eyes are narrowed as his eyebrows lower.

- Is that what you call me? (The taller of the two chuckles a little more, his breath brushing Dust's forehead and the lantern swings a bit at the end of his hand.) Suspicious?