In a weird way, I'm glad we haven't found shelter yet. I'm not quite ready to settle down in a place that stays the same. Journeying across the land, toward the river, is good for me. I still love discovering everything about the world. Being free gives everything so much meaning! The grass is infinitely greener than it ever was before, and the sky is bluer, and the air is fresher, and the clouds are always falling into shapes that my imagination can turn into crazy scenes. I spend days traveling across hills and plains, and nights are spent by the fire huddled up next to Shawn. My conversations with Allen and Shawn aren't sad or depressing or angry. Instead, we have talks about anything we want to talk about. Anything that's on my mind - and recently, there's been a lot - I can share with them. It's truly a wonderful feeling, and one that I never expected to feel.

However, as much as I love roaming free, we will need a base pretty soon. Food is becoming a problem, since none of us know how to hunt (except Allen, but he's still unbalanced and confused in his body). And though the weather has been pleasant, it might not stay that way. We have no protection from wind, rain or lightning. Getting to the river, and then the forest, is crucial. Once we have food, water, shelter, tools, and a plan, then we can explore all we want. But until then, it's just hours upon hours of traveling.

On the first morning of the journey, we realized we could see the forest's outline in the distance. By the end of the day, we could see the river far away, too. We also learned that Allen called the river "Mercy". I liked that name. In fact, the whole first day of the journey was filled with us learning more about Allen. For instance, it was a few minutes into the journey when my brain made a shocking discovery. Remember way back when Allen, as a ghost, told me that his power was to kill people by touching them? Yeah. That was a problem.

"What if it still works?" I cried after realizing. "What if you accidentally kill us in our sleep?" Allen just shook his head, then winced as I heard several cracking noises from his neck.

"Don't worry," he assured me. "My power isn't activated right now; I can feel it. Also, I may have something..." He began digging through the pockets of the light jacket he wore. "Ah, here they are!" He pulled out a pair of gloves and held them up. I thought that they looked quite small, but when he slipped one on, it stretched out and morphed to fit his hand perfectly. I gasped at the strange sight.

"Magic," Allen explained, a hint of awe in his voice. "It's out there, you know. Not just in freaks like us, but all over. These gloves are enchanted. They were... they were given to me, in my first life." He sounded a bit sad at the mention of his first life, but I was curious and figured it was time he shared a little.

"What was your first life like?" I asked. I'd asked him the same thing many times when he was a ghost, but now he couldn't face away or sink through the floor to escape the question.

With a sad glance at me, he replied, "My power destroyed my life... literally. After killing everyone I cared about, there was so much fear and anger and sadness in me that my power... well, it consumed me, I suppose. It grew so powerful in the matter of a few seconds that I couldn't stop my own power, and it killed me. I'd just been taken in by Ultra Tech Laboratories, which is why I was buried nearby." I frowned and patted Allen's shoulder in sympathy. He hadn't really answered my question very well, but I could clearly see that he didn't like remembering, so I didn't force him to.

Allen's magic gloves and assurance that he could contain his power helped calm my fears about his "Death Touch". And after several more hours of walking, talking, and Allen's body making painful-sounding noises, I learned that he had another surprise for us.

"Good heavens," he muttered in the evening. "My clothes are very, very stiff! Comes with being buried, I suppose." He reached down to try to flex his pant legs a bit, and suddenly, something fell out of one. Allen's face was blissful or a moment.

"Ah," he sighed. "That's much better." Then his comfort became less interesting than the object that had fallen out of his pants. He picked it up and brushed it off, a smile spreading across his face.

"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Now see here, boys, this is something I'd completely forgotten about!" He held up the object in his hands, and I realized with a start that it was a sword! It had a dark metal blade and a neat leather handle. It was almost three feet long.

"Meet Mareth, boys!" he announced happily. "She was my sword, back in the day. Not sure why they buried me with a sword in my pants, though..." He turned the sword over, examining it lovingly. "Nowadays, I think she might be better off with you, Wrive." I blinked in surprise, and when Allen held the sword out to me, I didn't even take it right away. I was still trying to process his words!

"No," I finally managed to get out. "I have my power, so -"

"So nothing," Allen dismissed. "I have my death touch, if I need it. Plus, with the current state of my body, I wouldn't be much of a swordsman. I'm out of practice, and stiff, and clumsy. You have an entire life of learning ahead of you. Just take her, for now, at least." I accepted the sword, extremely grateful and bewildered.

On a slightly less life-changing note, Shawn found a twig somewhere. He named it Fred and now carries it everywhere. Weird? Sure. But honestly, I'm pretty happy the boy found Fred. Now, instead of rambling to me or pestering Allen, Shawn can talk to his... pet twig, I guess. Now, don't get me wrong, I love the little guy, but sometimes, I need time to think, and that's when Shawn can get annoying. However, I noticed something weird when we were getting ready to sleep: I could have sworn Fred was faintly glowing in Shawn's hand. It was a long day, I guess.

On the second day of our journey, I learned that Mareth means "death". It's a bit of a dark name, but Mareth sounds pretty cool, so I didn't complain. Allen showed me ways to excersize my sword arm and swordsmanship skills. Every lesson was very basic, mostly just how to swipe, lunge, and block, but useful all the same. I practiced when we stopped for rest breaks, which was every few hours. I had no one to compare myself to, so I don't know how skilled I actually was, but my sword arm seemed to be getting steadier, so I took that as a sign I was improving.

The forest was definitely getting closer, and that night, we knew it wasn't long before we reached them. The dot of blue in the distance that was Mercy was now a clear streak, and I could see the shape of the river. We were getting closer to shelter, to another level of freedom, to what could soon be our home. I was excited more than ever before. I could hardly imagine being somewhere safe. I could barely fathom being home.

On the third day, we woke up early and finally reached the edge of the forest. So now you're up to date, and I'll continue.

The trees are massive. They must stretch, what, fifty feet high? Higher? I'm not too good at guessing, but it doesn't matter. All around, I see signs of life. Signs of hope. Sturdy wood for building. Bushes for berries or fruit. Leaves for shade and protection from rain! Small rocks, maybe for building tools. Everything was looking up!

"Yeah, trees!" Shawn cheers. "Is that your daddy, Fred? Woah, he's big!" Shawn giggles, then pauses for a moment. "Oh, sorry, Fred. I didn't mean he was fat." Then he giggles again. "But he kinda is!"

"Hm," Allen muses, ignoring Shawn (he is becoming a professional at this). "Never did map this forest, or really learn my way through it. Should be fine, though..." I cock my head, gather my courage, and ask a question.

"Allen, how do you know about this forest? And the river? I mean, I know you don't like talking about your first life, but did you live close to here or something?" Allen is quiet for a moment, and I'm pretty sure he's just going to avoid the question.

"I never really had a concrete home," he says quietly. "After all, I'd killed anyone who tried to help me. So I wandered, scavenged, set up camp wherever I could live. And when I needed more resources, I moved. I spent a few weeks near the end of my life in this area, before being captured by Ultra Tech Laboratories." I nod, satisfied that I actually got an answer.

"Thanks for telling," I smile at him. He just nods, not angry at me, but solemn. I remind myself not to poke too much into his past.

I leave Allen behind and draw closer to Shawn, who's hugging a tree. The term "tree-hugger" pops into my head, but I'm not sure how. No one ever taught me that phrase, did they?

"Wive!" Shawn exclaims, bursting with excitement. "Look at all the big sticks in the ground! And all the grass growing from them!" I smile, but in spite of all the success and hope, I'm saddened. Shawn doesn't even know what a tree is, and why would he? He's never seen one. His life, his normal, happy life, was taken from him so early, he doesn't even have basic knowledge of the world. Because of U.T.L. But that's behind me now.

"Those are trees, Shawn," I explain gently. He blinks, interested. "And that green stuff up there, that's a bunch of leaves. They're... kind of like grass, but not really..." I don't know how to explain any better, and Shawn isn't paying attention anymore anyway. He runs in circles, twirling Fred in his hand, and begins to sing.

"La la la, we got a new home. Doo dee doo, we're buildin' our house. Wait wait wait, what's that sound? Boop bop boop, there's something by that tree. Doo da dee..." His song trails off. "Wive, what's that thing over there called?" He points, and I follow his finger.

Poking out from behind a tree is a dark figure, shapes roughly like... like a human.

I barely spot it before it vanishes, and I hear leaves and twigs cracking as the figure flees. I stand dumbfounded for a moment before breaking into a sprint after it.

I ignore Allen's questions and Shawn's yells as I dash after the figure. I didn't see any detail, just barely spotted it. But from the sound of it running, I'm learning about the creature. It runs on two legs, that's for sure. It doesn't sound too heavy, but heavy enough to snap branches when it steps on them. When I glimpsed it, it seemed roughly the same height as me. Could it actually be... a human? I redouble my sprint, but it's a race that I'm losing. After originally spotting the figure, I haven't seen it again, and am following it only by the sound of it fleeing.

And suddenly, that sound stops.

I too stop, and try to quiet my breathing. I listen for the sound of the figure running, or moving at all. But the sound is gone. I groan, frustrated. If the figure is hiding or sneaking, I'll never catch them.

"Hey!" I call in a desperate last gamble. "Hey, is someone out there? Anyone? I'm not dangerous, I promise." I realize just how stupid that last line is. I'm carrying a sword on my belt, and I have magical powers ready to fry any enemies. I'm basically possessed, and I probably have two other people looking for me, both armed with magical powers. Of course I'm dangerous. But I'm also in danger. If that figure wasn't human, then I may be prey to some creature. If it was human, they've probably got some sort of weapon, and they know the forest better than I do. The smartest thing to do now is to go back. So, with a sigh, I turn and head back the way I came.

Allen finds me after a bit, and immediately begins scolding me.

"What were you thinking?" he cries. "Oh, hey, look, some sort of creature is looking at me! I should go chase it! You idiot! What if it was a bear? Or a wolf?"

"What if it was a person?" I fire back, tired of being scolded for taking the reasonable action.

"Yes, what if it was?" Allen snaps. "What if it was some wild person with weapons and a freak running at him? What if it was a U.T.L. worker?" Allen sighs and shakes his head. "Get it into your head if yours, Wrive, that this place isn't your magical playground of dreams. This is the wild, where dumb people die and weak people starve. The smart survive. The strong survive."

"I get it," I mutter, and Allen stops his lecture. I slink away, frustrated and embarrassed and angry. Was I wrong to run off? Maybe. But if there was even a chance that someone else was out there, I had to take the risk. Just because it didn't pay off doesn't mean it was a bad decision.

In my frustration, I almost don't notice the odd sensation. But then I notice it: a feeling I've felt before. It's like I'm slowly moving backwards, drifting away from my own body. The last time this happened, I went berserk and possibly killed some U.T.L. guards. I take a deep breath, regaining control, and remind myself to keep my temper down. Allen was just being safe and protective. My annoyance clears away, and I'm definitely back in control. That was close.

After this, we start searching for a camp. We find a somewhat clear patch of forest and set our stuff there. I nearly laugh at that thought: all our stuff. That means... nothing. We literally have nothing. I mean, obviously, we're all clothed, and I have Mareth, and Shawn has Fred, but we're not putting any of that down. So, really, we just clear out all the sticks and leaves on the ground. Allen's worried about how we're going to make an axe, but we'll deal with that later. For now, we have a more important focus: water.

It's strange: I've been out in the sun, walking around for three days, and I didn't feel any desperate need for water. Was I thirsty? Sure. But only to the point of annoyance, not panic. But now that we're settled in the shade of the forest, thirst is attacking. I can feel in my gut that I need to eat soon, but it's my mouth that's really messed up. I feel like there's a thin layer of something dry and hard coating the inside of my mouth, even my tongue. Oh, my tongue... I wiggle it, and it feels like a dead rat flopping around in my mouth. Suddenly, I really want water, to gargle and spit out. Right now, I'm worried that spitting will dehydrate me and I'll shrivel up.

Unfortunately, Allen isn't quite sure of the way to the Mercy River, so we stumble around for nearly an hour before we happen to sight the blue. Then, it's finally time to drink! I run to the river with a final burst of energy, and fall to my knees on its bank. Then, I drink! The water revives my throat, allowing me to gorge myself even more. Water, sliding down my throat, sloshing in my mouth, filing my stomach!

I finally take a breath to see Allen observing me with a smirk.

"What?" I ask. "Aren't you thirsty?"

"Sure," he replies. "But I had a little, and I'm taking it slowly."

"Why?" I asked, taking another deep drink. "It's amazing!" Allen nods, still smirking.

"Because," he says, "if you drink too quickly, then you'll have to-" Suddenly, my entire body convulses, and I turn quickly. Then, I vomit into the grass. Shawn looks panicked, and Allen's smirk widens. I just keep puking out all the water I drank, feeling embarrassed, but I'm too busy to really care that much.

And so it goes, for an excruciating minute that feels like an eternity. Finally, I've gotten rid of all the water I had. I gasp for breath, mentally rebooting. I glance at Allen, who's taking a slow sip from the river. He sighs in appreciation and smiles at me. I glare at him.

"You knew," I accuse. He nods.

"Of course I knew. Why do you think I didn't tell you?" I sputter for words, flustered.

"That makes no sense!" Allen shrugs.

"I don't have to make sense. I'm not the guy sitting in a pile of watery vomit." Fuming silently, I stand up, grimacing slightly as I see the puddle I've made. Now, slowly, I take a slow sip of water from the river. It's not quite the extreme burst of goodness I tasted before, but it's still cool and refreshing, and this time it'll stay in my stomach.

As I drink, a small smile flickers onto my face. Allen just played a prank, and even if it was at the expense of my dignity, the prank just seemed natural. A week ago, musty cells were normal. Strange machines and wires were natural. Now, living life, a real life, seems natural, and that's an amazing thought. Maybe, despite the horrors of our pasts, we can actually live our lives how they were meant to be lived.

***

Two eyes stare out from behind a tree. They shift left and right, looking, watching. Waiting. The three boys have gone to the river to drink. The unseen watcher knows this. They've been watching. Waiting. And now, they've seen enough.

The eyes vanish, and there's no sign that the watcher was ever there.