Chapter Eight

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8. Trust Issues

'the sad truth is that
the truth is sad'
-Lemony Snicket

'the sad truth is thatthe truth is sad'-Lemony Snicket

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Family. Noun.
A kinship unit consisting of a group of individuals bound by blood, or by marital, adoptive,
or other intimate ties.

GLENN and Rosita stood ankle deep in the rippling stream while Zeppelin peered from the bank, squinting to watch them as the afternoon sun gleamed off the crystal water. She perched on a large vein of a root that snaked from a tree down into the muddy soil and wrapped her arms around her knees while Glenn fashioned a net out of torn scraps of cloth.

Then he stooped low and dipped it into the water, Rosita holding the other side with a slight grin tweaking her lips. The creek pulled against the net, creating a little balloon of fabric, perfect for snaring one of the fish that made it's home here. While they waited, Zepp tilted her face towards the warm sun, letting the light and shadow dance across her skin as the canopy of trees above swayed back and forth in the wind.

The air was crisp and cool today, just warm enough to keep her from wearing the flannel rolled up in her pack, but brisk enough that she wasn't covered in sweat like a few weeks ago. A few days had passed since the group left the tunnel, and they hadn't strayed from the railroad tracks beginning to overgrow with weeds and vines. A couple signs here and there stating, 'Terminus, those who arrive, survive' told them they were headed in the right direction.

With every sign they passed, she could see the tension relaxing in their shoulders, the radiant smiles a few of them exchanged. Zeppelin didn't share the sentiment, but after catching the way Veronica's eyes practically glowed when they grazed over the map nailed to a telephone pole, she kept her mouth dutifully shut.

The signs gave them hope, something to cling to, to help them push on over the aching tiredness in their bones. That mixed with Abraham's incessant urge to get to D.C., they were practically giddy by the time they had stopped near this stream to rest.

  "Almost.. almost.." Glenn was murmuring, tensing as a few trout swam closer and closer to their trap. "Now!"

They both swung the wriggling net into the air, and Rosita's laugh was unrestrained and blissful, one of the few she let escape her lips. Zeppelin cupped her hands around her mouth and hooted in appreciation, then gave them a light round of applause as Glenn beamed and held the net up.

"Oh yeah," he chuckled. "It worked nice!" He turned to Rosita, handing her the catch. "You know how to clean these things?"

She laughed again and nodded, reaching for the sack of cloth. "Yeah, I know how to clean these things."

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