Before You Start A War

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next morning, Harry wakes up to the sound of bushes rustling around him. He nearly shoots straight up, and would have if it wasn't for the weight in his arms holding him down. His eyes open and he blinks rapidly for a few seconds to clear the blurriness away. One hand disentangles itself from where it's wrapped in fabric, reaching to his left where he normally always keeps his rifle and other weapons. After patting around on the ground for a few moments with nothing turning up, his vision finally clears enough for him to turn his head and take better note of his surroundings.

The grey and brown and green of the forest blend together with the orange and yellow and red of the sunlight bleeding through the trees. To his left, a squirrel is stoic against a tree, its tail fluttering behind it in a rhythmic pattern. To his front, Louis is folding up several quilts and stuffing them into his rucksack. To his right, Liam taking a piss in a bush.

"Good, you're awake. We need to get moving." Liam comments, zipping and buttoning his trousers before throwing his own rucksack over his shoulder. "We're heading to our brigade."

Harry has to think for a moment, looking between the two men who are ready to go. "Why're we going there?"

"Because Niall needs a doctor, and it's the only place close enough that's least likely to have information of the mess we made of the company. At least, not yet and hopefully we'll be able to get there before news travels back to them." Liam explains, kicking at Harry's boots to get him to move.

Harry moves. Niall groans in his arms and flutters his eyes open. He shimmies himself out of Harry's arms and leans against a tree. Harry motions to help him up, but Niall waves him off. "I've got it."

"How are you feeling, Niall?"

Niall pushes himself up with one hand on the ground and the other on the tree. As his legs begin stretching, Harry can visible see as the pain hits him again. Niall nearly topples over, but both Liam and Harry throw a hand out to steady him. Liam holds his bicep as Harry pulls Niall to lean against him, an arm around his waist, touching as lightly as possible.

"Can you walk?" Liam asks instead, his last question forgotten.

Niall doesn't say anything for a minute, instead opts for taking deep, controlled breaths. Harry is looking down at him with concern, but Niall eventually looks up at him with a small smile. "I'll need a crutch, but yeah, I can walk."

Harry smiles back at him.

"Good. Let's get going."

The first four hours of walking is spent in silence, a part from their increasingly labored breathing. They travel up and down the gentle slopes of land, following no particular path, or at least none that Harry can notice. As the hours go on, Harry takes notice of a few things among their small group; every half an hour, Liam lets out a sigh, though he doesn't know if it's from frustration, or boredom, or confusion. Louis seems to enjoy kicking little pine cones and rocks and tree balls, but every few minutes he loses interest in one object, spends a solid twenty minutes without one, and then starts up again. Niall doesn't necessarily drag his feet, especially not with Harry's arm around his waist seemingly pulling him along, but every twenty steps or so, his stride goes out of balance from a step too big or too small, and he has to take a few extra steps to steady himself.

Harry's even noticed that he has a few mannerisms that he's never noticed before; he always matches the stride of the person closest in his vision. When he's watching Liam, he picks up the small skip Liam does. When watching Louis, he starts kicking at small objects. When watching Niall, he takes too long or short strides in time with his companion, but doesn't stumble like Niall does.

Finally, finally, finally, after four hours, Liam slows down to be in line with Louis. They converse for a few moments before they stop, waiting for Niall and Harry to catch up, who have always been a few steps behind them.