GWEN

Every survivor in the After has turned scavenging into a fine art. It doesn't matter how trashed or nasty an abandoned place is, there's bound to be something to scavenge for usefulness. Sometimes it takes imagination, and sometimes it takes a strong gut. But there's always something to be found, even if it's just information.

I head into the first trailer, taking careful steps as I go inside. The windows to this one were left open and the floor is soggy and warped. The ceiling overhead sags with water damage and is thick with mold, so I retreat outside, find the shreds of my shirt and press a sleeve to my mouth and nose as I dig through the remnants of a lost civilization—a civilization I used to belong to. Some people find scavenging fun, but I mostly find it sad, because I think of what used to be. This trailer's full of those types of relics, all water-logged and useless. Stacks of DVDs and old VHS tapes cover the tiny table, and it looks like a critter made its nest on the bed and then abandoned it. The clothes in the tiny closet are destroyed, chewed by mice and ruined by more mold. I move forward and pick through the kitchen and find an old copper pot. That'll be useful, provided I can find somewhere to rinse it. I take it with me and keep hunting.

In the very back of the trailer, in a cubby that must have been a bathroom, there's a skeleton. The bones were picked clean long ago, and judging by the gun parked near the head, it wasn't death by dragonfire. All right, that tells me plenty. If this guy was left alone long enough to be a skeleton, that means no one found the body. That means this place is remote, because no one would leave a perfectly good gun with a dead guy. I pick it up and study it. Looks like a Glock 22, which means it probably came off of a police officer at some point. I pop out the magazine. Still has four rounds. Nice. I pop it back in, put on the safety, and then set it in my pot. I check the dead guy's pockets, apologizing as I do. "Sorry to be rude, mister, but I need whatever you have more than you do." I find a wallet with a few condoms stuffed inside it (optimistic of him), several twenty-dollar bills (now useless), and a photo ID.

My dead guy was handsome. Young. A cop. It makes me sad to see his photo. It's easier when they're faceless masses. "I'm sorry, Jimmy Hufferson," I tell him as I set his ID down on the counter. "You took the easy way out. Sometimes I envy you."

The address is Saranac, Louisiana. Means nothing to me other than we're still in Louisiana. All right. Someplace remote, then. Figures. Even if I wanted to escape the dragon, it's not feasible if I'm in the middle of nowhere.

A brown girl by herself alone in the woods in the deep South? Please. I know how that story ends. I dig around in his bedroom until I find a holster and a belt, put it on, and then slide my gun home. Already I feel better. I put my makeshift mask back over my face and head out of the trailer. Doesn't bode well for the next one, but I check it out anyhow. The door's secured, and it takes the butt of the gun to bust through the glass and then break my way in.

"Jackpot," I murmur as I step inside. For a change, it's good that I'm in a remote location, because this place is pristine. It hasn't been touched since its occupant left. There's an old mattress on the floor instead of a real bed, but the sheets and blankets on it still look decent. They need a good airing out, sure, but they're usable. There's even a pillow. I head farther inside and immediately check the kitchen. Empty except for a lighter. That's disappointing. "I guess that's why whoever was here left, eh?" I say to no one in particular as I pocket the lighter. I check every cabinet twice, just in case I've overlooked a can tucked somewhere, but no dice. The bathroom has a freshly wrapped bar of soap, though, a wide-toothed comb, and there's a few T-shirts in the closet that look like they'd fit me. Score, score and score. I slide one over my ratty bra and get a glimpse of myself in the mirror hanging off the closet door. My face is leaner and harder than it was in the Before, but since there's no hairdressers to be found, I've let my hair go crazy, and as a result, it's a wild, thick mess of waves. It actually looks kinda nice. I'm thin and bony, though, and I wrinkle my nose as I grab one miniscule tit. Not much there anymore. Oh well. "Too bad for you, Vaan."

And then I laugh at my own joke. It's either that or cry and I'm tired of crying.

I feel better with a shirt covering my nakedness and a gun at hand. Like I've got shit under control. I head out of the trailer and do a quick check of the others, but they're either impossible to get into or emptied out already. That's all right. I've got plenty. I air out the sheets, hanging them from a few nearby trees, and then make a fire in what was once clearly a firepit, if the circle of white stones in the tall grasses is any indication.

Twilight comes on, and out here in the woods I can hear the cicadas like crazy. It's kind of creepy and I realize just how lonely it is without other people. I've been in forts ever since the Rift appeared, and there are always people around in a fort. Dee and I have been inseparable for the last seven years, and Andrea's been my roomie for the last two. I don't know that I like being alone. I certainly don't like being alone out here in the dark.

"Come back anytime, Vaan," I tell the empty air as I slap away mosquitos. "I won't even scream at you."

Well, maybe a little. I'm only human after all. And he is most definitely not.

As it gets darker, I start to worry. Surely the dragon didn't just…leave me? Like, was I not friendly enough? I chew on my lip, worried. I thought I was doing pretty damn good considering the situation. He can't paw at a girl and expect me to just be okay with it out of the blue. He has to know that I'm going to be afraid, doesn't he?

A slightly more terrifying thought hits me.

What if…he forgot me?

Goosebumps prickle my arms and I stare at the shadowy, dark woods around me. I think of Vaan and that awful blankness in his eyes for a long moment, until I said my name. It was like he'd spaced out. What if he spaced out and forgot where I am and I never see him again?

No matter how frightening the dragon is to me, that might be worse.

Long minutes pass in silence. I think of Daniela, my poor, fragile sister who used to be such a happy person. I think of Andrea. I think of Amy and Rast and their plans for Fort Shreveport. Hell, I even think of Liam. I want to go back. I don't want to end my days out here in some bumfuck nowhere abandoned trailer park because a dragon forgot me.

Forgotten. Lovely.

The trees rustle and shake and I look up in time to see a catlike gleam of dragon eyes. A few moments later, a heavy form lands with a thud nearby and nearly puts my fire out.

I don't even care. I haven't been abandoned, and relief courses through me. I jump to my feet. "Vaan!"

The dragon stalks out of the shadows, dumps a dead deer on the ground, and then changes to his human form.

Hunting. He didn't forget me after all. Giddy with relief, I fling myself across the clearing and throw my arms around his neck. Heck, he could be one of the Brothers of Ash at this moment and as long as I wasn't abandoned, I'd be thrilled to see him. "Vaan," I say again happily, hugging the dragon's neck. "Thank you for coming back."

His skin feels scorching hot against my own, but not sweaty. Not unpleasant, either. I feel his hand hesitate against my back, and then he touches me gently. Reverently. Claws trail up my new shirt and then he buries his fingers in my hair. A moment later, he buries his face there, too.

I stiffen and then force myself to relax. I'm the one that hugged him, after all. "Remember me, Vaan? I'm Gwen."

"Gwen," he says thickly, and lord, the guy really does have an amazing voice. The rich baritone rolls through the air, and I sigh with contentment.

Funny how a person's perspective can change in a few hours and the threat of abandonment. I pull back from Vaan and smile at him, determined to befriend him. "We're going to make this work, damn it," I say, and then tug him forward. "Come sit by the fire with me."

He looks down where I'm touching his hand, and when I give his fingers a little squeeze, he returns the gesture. "Gwen," he says again.

"Yup." When he comes toward the fire, I can see there's blood smeared on his golden face. I gasp at the sight of it. "Are you okay?"

He cocks his head, his expression that strange blankness. But he says my name again and squeezes my hand once more, so I don't think I've lost him completely. I reach up and touch his cheek with my free hand, looking for wounds.

Immediately, he turns his face toward my palm, nuzzling it, his eyes closed and a look of rapture on his face.

Oh.

I'm shocked at the tender gesture. I'm even more shocked at how I respond, the little thrum of pleasure racing through my body when his lips graze my skin. But then blood smears on my skin and the moment is ruined. "Yuck, my friend," I say softly, pulling my hand away. "Let's get this cleaned up and look for wounds."

I manage to get him to sit by the fire, ignoring the hopeful look on his face. I think he's not-so-secretly hoping he gets to nuzzle my hand again. Instead, I spit on the edge of one of the T-shirts, grimace at the fact that we have no water, and then swipe at his face. "I'm sorry about the spit-shine," I tell him, doing my best to wipe the red smears away. "I just want to make sure you're not hurt."

He remains completely still for my touches, watching me with a bit of puzzlement on his face, as if he's not entirely sure what I'm doing but doesn't want to interrupt. It's kind of cute, and if I wasn't so on edge, I'd laugh. There's no wound on his face, though, and when I'm done cleaning his skin, I feel like an idiot. "It's from the deer, isn't it? Of course it is. You're a hunter." I wipe my hands and turn away. "And me, I clearly know nothing about dragons."

Vaan immediately grabs my arm, pulling me back toward him with a growl.

I yelp in surprise, and his eyes flash dark. He immediately releases me and we both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes have that odd blankness to them again.

"Vaan? It's me, Gwen," I tell him softly.

Recognition dawns on his face and I can tell the moment he focuses again. "Gwen," he says, and taps a hand on my chest.

I smile at him, but inwardly, I'm worried. How often are we going to have to do this?