[Red]

He had no idea where they were headed. He had no idea where they were. And he was certain that they circled that tree about six times at this point. So, as far as Red was concerned, they were lost. And freezing. He lent Li his hoodie, it fit her more like a dress than a shirt, but at least she somewhat covered. His sweater grew thin with wear over these pasts weeks, not to mention his half attempt at washing. The pack he carried at his side held gifts; like discarded socks and pants that were a size too small, and treasures. He had a coca-cola cap that he kept on his neck as a memento to... something. He still wasn't sure himself.

They came to the Withered a few days ago, with hopes high from their last involvement with another group of scavengers. He had hoped he would see them again, but he wasn't sure.

"Mmm...." Li-li was the first to speak, her voice popped the grim silence like a bubble, "...tired..." 

"Alright, come up." he'd immediately crouch down to her level, and assisted her onto his back. She was light, and the hoodie she wore would give him some much needed warmth. "All better?" Red said, tendrils of hair clung to his face and brushed against her own brown cheeks, "Mmmhmm." 

She was tired. He was tired too. He could feel the thin texture of the woman's image in his back pocket rattle against his skin. 

He wondered if she were alive somewhere. Maybe she was in a settlement? Or with a group? No, he'd rather imagine her in a settlement, definitely older than she is in that picture with salt and pepper hair and a lightly wrinkled face. She'd wear pastel colored dresses and aprons and would cook for an entire army, if she wanted. Spices and the heavy scent of tomato and cilantro, dough and fried bread would fill her house and flood the streets. And he and little Li-li would stop right at her door step just before she served. She'd recognize him immediately and give them both big hugs and kill the fattened calf and place a ring on his finger, like how the parable went, and celebrate with her entire settlement.
 
"...my son was dead and is alive again; he was lost and now is found.’”

The sky was grey, grey than it had even been and as he focused on moving forward, he couldn't help but wonder, '..is that the same tree?'

He had no clue of where they going, but he hoped it was somewhere.

[Rennat]

Monica & Jerome

Toothless and wiry, Monica was once a meth-addict, undergoing withdrawals in the absence of a supply. Jerome, once the bright-eyed salutatorian of his class, is now a downtrodden, scruffy youth, with holey clothing and a penchant for stealing.

It wasn't the same tree. Or, if it had been the same tree, it was to bearing an entirely different appearance.

A spark alighted at the base, near the roots. There was a cry; not described by fear or sorrow. Frustration. An animal noise, one that a cat would make when it could no longer function as a cat. There was a hushed sound, too, a frantic attempt at quieting the source of the cry. That voice, too, was one of frustration. A human noise, not so different from an animal noise, filled with malice and annoyance and impatience. It was not long before the flames birthed from the spark engulfed the entirety of the tree, and from behind it scurried a woman on her emaciated haunches, moving like a dog as a young man with a stick poked her along. She growled at him,  barked even.

What was once only a step up from rags was now a collection of tattered strips, held to the woman's body by wetness or ice one. Limp, dirty hair hung around her face like a shredded curtain, her eyes bloodshot, mucus dripping from her nostrils, threatening to become glaciers of disease in the time it took to hit the dead, gray earth. Her knees were knobbly and her arms were extremely thin. A black tattoo, its purity a grateful departure from the body's other confusing discolorations, displayed a flame encircled by a crown. A Humilitas.

The boy showed no sign of a Virtue Marking, and shuddered visibly when he saw he had company. He threw the stick down, hoping that Red would not get the impression he was abusing the woman. "P-people..." he muttered, his voice raspy. Monica rolled over onto her side and shook, whispering random syllables and occasionally striking out with a taloned foot. "Jerome," the young boy spoke, his voice gaining a volume he had undoubtedly used at one point in his life, but had no purpose in recent times. He was thin as well, not to such an extreme degree as the woman, but malnourished all the same. His dark skin glistened with frozen sweat against the burning tree behind him. The warmth was inviting, but out of place. Comforting, yet the amalgamation of panic and instability.

Behind him, the ground around Monica shone with a dozen tiny sparks. The dead grass fizzled and burnt down to the ground, but there was not enough of it to catch. "Do you have food?" Jerome spoke, cutting to the inevitable chase.

[Red]

He was barely audible, at first. He wanted to ask what the boy wanted a second time, but then he paused and settled down Li, and reached into his knapsack. "Let me see what I got," he mumbled. Well, there was water, and some other things that weren't exactly considered 'food' during these times. He had a towel, a pad of paper that was half wet and dried, and a bag.
He pulls out the bag and examines it closely. "Oh," Red remembered now."Here," the bag of peanuts that was half eaten from their last scavenge. 

"We can all... eat them together, if you want?" He's cautious, but he tries to appear calm, as to not trouble the child. He places her hand in his, watching the sickly woman carefully and then at the boy, no, man. He didn't seem much younger than himself. 

The smell of smoke and the sight of fire made the little girl hide behind his leg. This place was not safe.

[Rennat]

The former salutatorian stared between Red and Li with shifty eyes, not necessarily mistrustful to others, but definitely giving the sensation that he didn't exactly trust the two of them. He settled down in front of them and eyed the bag warily, not sure whether to follow custom and wait for his host to eat or just go for it. He offered a distraction while he popped one of the peanuts in his mouth: "Meth." It was plaintive, an obvious explanation for the reason there was an incessant rambling serving as the ambiance for an otherwise muted landscape. There was the crackling of the fire, too, but it was hardly comforting. He seemed to shy away from Li as he said the word, like some phantom remembrance of a world that didn't take kindly to talking about such mature subjects around children; as if it mattered, in this world.

"Y'know, my parents always used to come up with excuses when times were tough. My mom, mostly. Everytime we would be having financial troubles, she would always offer up some stupid excuse like, 'At least we aren't starving in Africa!'" Jerome's face brightened, like he was telling a joke. But then the expression corrupted itself and fell once he realized that the joke wasn't funny. His eyes were distant now, scouring the landscape; no, surveying. Surveying with a lack of care. "I wonder if someone is out there, now, complaining about food or having their life turned upside down. And I wonder if my mother is there saying something like, 'Well, it could be worse, we could be starving in Africa...'" His face darkened and his eyes dropped. As if he remembered the peanuts were there, he ravenously took a few more and forgot any manners of conversation he had so far been practicing. "Is there even an Africa to compare this hellhole to?"

Monica made some louder sounds behind him, and he took a few peanuts to offer her. She swatted them away in a fury, rolling over so that her back was facing the group. Jerome's fists clenched and, in other company, he may have taken more aggressive measures at taking revenge on her for both denying and wasting what little sustenance they could find. But, he controlled himself, and returned. "Is there anything else but gray?" He gestured around him. "We've been roaming across dead earth for months. A can here and there to keep us sane. Nothing more."