Snippet #2567095

(Mis-tagged James)

As of now, it was still cool. The lack of direct sunlight into the area and whatever coolness the ground retained kept the warmth away for the moment, and the insects with it. Boris didn't like the insects. They were always there during the day, biting exposed flesh to sake their hunger without any consideration for what the humans felt. Quite rude of them, he thought. Thinking about it, he decided the zombies were rude as well seeing as how they took no consideration of what humans felt either. Why were they so rude to people? Everything was always better if you helped and respected those around you. Maybe they had some grudge. He hadn't exactly been kind to them either. He felt sorry for them. Almost. For some reason, they always tried to grab him and take Natalya without permission. That was enough reason for anyone to be hurt. Nobody touched Natalya if he didn't say so.

Turning back to the piece of wood he was working, he strained to make sense of what he was carving. There was no discernible shape, nothing that he had seen before. Lucidity slowly seeped in through the shroud of insanity, granting him realization of what he had just been saying to himself. Laughing, he reflected on the absurdity of considering zombies as rude. He was crazy, but sometimes it could be fun. Other times it wasn't. Grimacing as he thought back to the fellow survivor that had died a few weeks ago, he berated himself. He was destined to save humanity. The spirits had told him so. Yet he couldn't save one person. Had he done something to displease the spirits? Maybe this figurine he was making would work to appease them. Examining it closer, he saw it was a fairy of some sorts. Yes, the spirits would like it.

As Silas began to wake up, Boris was reminded that he was supposed to be keeping watch, not talking with himself. But as long as nothing got through, everything was fine. No sense in saying anything. What never happened could not hurt you. Picking up Natalya- a spiked bat with electrical wiring running along the body- he nodded to Silas in greeting. Despite his young age, the man had led the group well throughout the apocalypse. There was something in him that lent itself to leadership. What hardships had he experienced in these past three years? Worse than his? It was only due to his currently lucid state that he remembered what had made him go insane at all.

Returning to where his bedroll lay packed, Boris finished storing the rest of what equipment he had left. Leaving it there until they were actually leaving, he returned to where he had been sitting for watch. There was something special about that place. Looking to the wooden figure in his hand, he lay it at the base of the tree and said a brief blessing over it. Rotating to face the group again, he asked, "Where do we hope to end up today, Silas?"