4.2
The woods grew dark, and we crept into the tent. Just as I'd initially expected, it could barely fit the four of us, so sleeping in it the past few nights had been a bit cramped. I say four, because, for some reason, Corvus always slept outside.
Eve still hadn't come back, and we decided to just go to sleep, hoping she'd be there in the morning.
Corvus must have had some reason for sleeping out there, but I couldn't think of a single good one. He was practically offering himself up to be eaten. Apparently, he'd always done it, even before I'd joined, when they would have had enough room in the tent for everyone.
The nights in the forest were ink black, as if the shadows actually sucked away any remaining light, and completely silent. Combine that with the fact that we were nearing an area I now knew had lots of deadly wildlife, and it made for quite the ominous atmosphere. I could almost feel the trees waiting–still, strong, and infinitely patient. The calm before the storm.
Surprisingly, the night passed quickly, and I got up extra early the next morning. Checking the tent, I saw only Nikki and Blake.
When I got up and went outside, however, I found Eve sleeping a few feet away. Her back was leaned against a tree, and her head swayed a little as her chest rose and fell with each gentle breath.
I couldn't help but feel relieved.
Where's Corvus? I wondered. I'd never actually seen him sleeping before, but he couldn't have been far from the tent.
Feeling adventurous, I decided to explore a little, thinking I might also find our fifth member along the way.
It was a calm day, and the temperature was warmer than usual. We'd picked a secluded spot to set up camp for the night, but I could see the red morning sun just peeking through the trees up ahead.
The rocky ground crunched a little with each step that I took, and I raised my hand to feel the pine needles as I proceeded forward. With each passing stride, the sun came through a little more clearly, and I soon broke through onto a steep downward slope with no trees, opening up a full view of the rising sun.
I took a long, deep inhale, and then let it go with an audible sigh. The air was clean, as if it had never been touched by human hands, or breathed by human lungs.
"Beautiful," I said aloud, taking a few steps forward and sitting down on the gravel and low brush that was illuminated by the day's first light.
I leaned back on my elbows. The sharp rocks dug into my skin (I was only wearing a white T-shirt, the one I always wore beneath my uniform), but I didn't mind.
After admiring the view for a few minutes, I decided that I might as well get up and head back to our tent. I didn't know how early Blake wanted to leave, after all.
However, as I turned to get my weight onto my feet, I leapt backward as if dodging an oncoming car.
My feet slipped and I skidded down the steep, rocky incline. No matter how desperately I grasped at the gravel, the tiny rocks escaped from my fingers.
I began to tumble downward, but the man who'd been sitting right next to me on those rocks reached out farther than I'd imagined was possible and latched his long, white fingers around my ankle.
Slowly, he dragged me up the gravel surface.
When he finally relinquished his grip, I scrambled to my feet, looking down at him in horror. It was terrifying, because he looked right back.
Deep, sunken eyes, whose eyelids were a tired, dark purple. Long strands of hair dangled down over his bony brow and prominent nose. His face was long, and his gaunt cheeks and parched lips gave him a starved look.
My foot slipped down the slope a little, but I threw my arms out, barely regaining my balance.
Once again, I looked down at Corvus.
I let out a quick 'huff' of an exhale and steadied myself, both mentally and physically, and, cautiously, I crouched back down to a sitting position.
I opened my mouth, and, somehow, I forced the words out. "Thanks, Corvus."
"I made you fall," he said in that slow, raspy voice after a few moments' pause. It sounded like his vocal cords had decayed, or as if his larynx was actually a coffin.
"Yeah, I guess so," I replied. As a matter of fact, I was worried that he'd read my mind.
"So, uh… why are you here?" I asked bravely, or perhaps foolishly.
Once again, our eyes met.
"I watch the sunrise," he said. "Every day."
"Even when it's cloudy?" I asked.
"Mm," he hummed as confirmation "Every day."
He spoke carefully, and he enunciated every syllable as if each one was of great importance.
Fearlessly, I continued on. "So you never sleep in? It must be hard to get up so early, especially in the summer."
"I don't sleep."
"Ah," I nodded in understanding. "Wait… Wait, wait. What?! What do you mean you don't sleep?? You're kidding, right?"
"Kidding?" he mused. "No, I don't sleep. I never sleep."
I took a deep breath and looked away. Good lord.
I nodded, trying to find a way to accept what he'd said.
"Ok," I said, returning my gaze and staring at him as if he was an alien that had just teleported to earth. "Alright, are you serious?"
All I could see were his blank, blackish eyes as he said, "Of course."
I swallowed. "Woah. Damn. So, you don't sleep? You've never actually closed your eyes and gone to sleep? And you're awake all night?"
"I've slept," he answered, "but I don't anymore."
"How are you alive?" I asked in a high, strained voice.
"I haven't died."
I gaped at him in frightened fascination. "Are you tired? Right now, for example?"
He seemed lost in thought after I asked this question, and it wasn't for a minute or two (yes, a full one to two minutes) that he replied, "I don't know. I don't know if I'm tired."
Yikes.
"Well, that could be kinda nice," I said thoughtfully, "but I guess you must have more time than you really need in a day. What do you do during the night?
"What do I do?" He repeated the question to himself softly, barely more than a whisper, and stared at the ground. "I do what I've always done. I take care of her."
I felt sick to my stomach.
Don't ask.
Some things are better left unknown.
There's no need to ask.
"Who's 'her'?" I asked.
"My sister," he replied.
My skin crawled, and my hair stood on end.
I knew that I would cross some forbidden boundary if I said even a single additional word, so I locked my eyes on the horizon line and shivered.
We sat together, watching the sun creep up into the sky.
At long last, I said, "Do you think we should head back?"
"To the tent?" he asked.
"Oh, yeah. To the tent."
In response, Corvus gradually got to his feet, although his neck and upper spine never fully extended, as if he had no incentive to even stand up properly.
I led the way, and he followed along behind me.