Sparrow

2♠ Camp Exodus

I didn't speak a word as we walked—the only sounds were that of the nature around us, and our feet trudging through the snow. I made sure to constantly survey my surroundings, but with Oak watching over me, I'd be alerted of an ambush before it even began.

"We're almost there," Heath said, breaking the silence between us.

His brown eyes lingered a second more before returning in front of him.  My gaze then dropped to his still uncovered hands.

"You're not wearing gloves. Why?"

My voice sounded raspier than usual, an affect left from all the shouting I'd done earlier. I could feel the soreness growing, so I decided to limit the amount of talking I'd do from now on.

"I'm a spearman," he shrugged. "For me, gloves only get in the way."

We'd been walking for almost half an hour when I began to see smoke in the distance. The faint smell of charred wood grew stronger the closer we got to it. From where we stood, many trees blocked my view, but I had a shadoe that could see what I couldn't.

Willing myself into her, I saw it all. Hundreds of tents, each varying from brown to beige in color, were lined up in a way that made the place likened to a community. Men busied themselves, putting their hands to work, but that was all I saw before I was yanked back into my body by a set of hands. It felt as if my skin was ripping anytime someone broke the tether, outside of Oak or I. It was one of the reasons I preferred isolation—no one could bother us.

With wide eyes, I looked at Heath, immediately taking a step back.

"We're here," he said, completely unaware of the discomfort he'd just put Oak and I through. "Welcome to Camp Exodus."

Following Heath past the icy gates marking the entrance of the camp, I realized just how big everything was. From up top, the tents seemed smaller, but from here they were all bigger than the small shack I'd grown up in. I did notice smaller tents around the perimeter, most likely used as single bunkers, but the further into the camp I went, the thicker the atmosphere hit me.

The sound of metal against metal rang out, along with muffled chortles and laughs as a few men walked by merrily. That was something rarely seen in Icadia. Happiness. It was clear, however, that those men weren't an accurate representation of how the majority of the camp felt.

As I passed by other tents, I could see men sparring, their fists connecting with skin while other's drew swords, testing their partners limits with the blade. Some spoke in hushed tones while others paid no mind to their volumes.

One thing was clear, though, as I received their curious glances. They all knew I didn't belong there.

Oak.

Already sensing my unease, she landed beside me, walking next to me as opposed to on my arm or shoulder. She could feel how drained I was from the scarring morning and loss of blood.