At first she thought he might be leading her to his own tribe and was tempted to flee. Judging by the way he fought, they would undoubtedly be a vicious and merciless group of men who took what they wanted and killed without mercy. It would have made sense, considering how easily he had taken the life of those Jackal boys. However, they simply moved gracefully through the trees. He was desperate to make it out before nightfall. It was hard enough to keep an eye on himself in the dark woods, let alone to be with someone else who wasn't experienced in the area.
Maybe she'd dealt with similar things before, but maybe he would have to keep an eye on her. He would have to try not to get attached, because anything could happen to her. He couldn't let anything weigh his conscience down. It was hard enough to live with memories of the outbreak, being a survivor when everyone else he loved hadn't been so lucky. It was something all of the survivors shared – the guilt. Many people dealt with it through violence and addiction to oblivion, others just tried to swallow it and move on. Some pretended that nothing had happened, claimed to be the same then as they always were. They lied to themselves, buried their past, and eventually turned out more twisted than the rest of them.
Jax wondered if this girl was like that – someone who pretended she had it together when really she couldn't trust the ground she was standing on. Someone who might snap unexpectedly, and had been turned out on her own, kicked out of her tribe for being a liability to the others. Some tribes had rules about procreation – if she'd become a mother without permission, or insisted on tending to, or keeping a child, she could have been cast out. Sometimes the tribes would keep the children and desert the mother, claiming that it was for the good of the tribe. The child would either be indoctrinated or eaten, depending on how bad times were.
Although he was burning with curiosity, one thing he knew was that too many questions were trouble. He would rather not know. His own past was too heavy a burden for him to carry, let alone discovering a whole well of the same misery in another person. He wouldn't be able to do anything to ease her pain if he couldn't even deal with his own, it would be useless to try, or to even want to try. He would surely be overwhelmed.
Layne walked beside him, her head high, face alert. She didn't seem to be looking for anybody to take care of her. She hadn't begged him to help her, aid her, or keep her company. She simply needed to know the way out, which was something that he could easily help her with. They walked in agreeable silence as the sun began to set. The golden light cast dark shadows of the trees across their faces, and soon they were nearing the edge of the woods. Jax breathed a deep sigh of relief. He wouldn't have to keep her safe in the forest. They could part ways now and never see each other again.
She seemed to be having the same thought, and bowed her head to him, acknowledging the kindness of his act without presenting herself to be vulnerable. He admired her in a way, so composed even though everything in her world had twisted and shattered. Who knew what her story was, how she got to where she had to fight off three Jackals and put her life in the hands of a perfect stranger. This was the kind of thing that used to be of great interest to him – how things came to be, the lines that people followed to where they ended up. He had once believed in fate, trusted that there was something good guiding the world along its track. Now he wasn't so sure.
“Good night,” he said, turning his eyes from her piercing blue eyes to the ground, suddenly remembering that he had never been that great at talking to girls. They had generally talked enough to him for the both of them though. Fortunately, he doubted this was the kind of woman who would have carried on a one-way conversation just for the hope of spending a few lingering minutes with him. He was a stereotype – tall, dark, handsome – and they were stereotypes – petite, pretty, helpless – and somehow that was supposed to mean fate. But it never had, and he hadn't found any comfort in their talk or their attention. Theatrics and games, all a waste of time. None of them had been down to earth. None of them had carried themselves in a way that attracted him, the way this woman carried herself.
She noticed him staring, lost in his own thoughts, and suddenly a look of crippling anxiety crossed her face. She wasn't great at concealing how she felt, he noted. He could understand why she would be nervous. The end of the world had meant that people who had hidden degenerate tendencies decided that it was now or never – these tendencies would come in handy and they might as well give in to the temptations of their darker natures. This meant few women were safe on their own, as the men had an advantage of strength and a barbaric anger fuelled by their hopeless situation. He'd once read a book about a group of boys abandoned on an island – he couldn't remember the title now - he couldn't remember a lot of things – and they used it as a chance to divide and conquer, trying to dominate each other. The kids grew bloodthirsty and savage, and it was much the same with most of the tribes.
He wondered if this was just a general fact, the nature of survival. Everyone got a little mean when their survival was at stake. Even this pretty woman probably had a demon in her yet, ready and willing to be released when the time was right. Would she slit his throat in his sleep to make sure he didn't take advantage of her first? He didn't trust her, and she clearly didn't trust him. This mistrust was sure to lead to some culmination, some act of violence he would rather avoid.
“Good luck,” he said firmly when they reached the edge of the woods. Normally he would be relishing the power, pleased to know that he invoked caution and fear from a potential enemy. But an old nagging feeling was disturbing him, something he hadn't felt in a long time, since his initiation into a tribe called Hex. He wanted her to like him.
“Same to you,” she said with a nod, waiting for him to leave her sight. She didn't want to turn her back to him, and she definitely didn't want him to be following her. She appreciated the help, but she wasn't stupid. He could probably catch up to her if he put his mind to it, pretend to be out of sight until she was most vulnerable and unsuspecting and make his move then. She would have to stay on her guard, especially if he was rogue. Those guys ended up crazy from the loneliness and desperation to survive. She should know.
But as he walked away, clearly disinterested in her now that he had dropped her off at the designated area, like she was just a delivery, that overwhelming loneliness nearly choked her. She wasn't very happy about how it had snuck up on her like that, but there it was all the same. She wanted to stay close, and found herself acting in a way she never would have expected herself to act, saying something she would normally be kicking herself for saying.
“Will you camp with me tonight?”