2 WEEKS LATER.
It had been a while since their memory loss.
Although their past was on a fishing rod, and their memories were on the hook as it led them on, they had been more focused on hunting rather than anything else. Which was, by all means, important—for, after all, they were in the middle of the forests, and surviving, at that, which meant that though their memories had served a vital role in their lives, surviving and hunting was necessary if they wanted to keep themselves alive long enough for their memories to return.
However, time had grown by, and soon, their food stocks had become full and healthy—and they had grown to become curious about their pasts, as any would be when they were placed in an amnesiac's position.
They had found various notebooks; however, some of them were mostly blank, and none had provided information that they really needed — however, Lexa had taken upon herself to study one of the notebooks in-depth, so she could report and gather her findings in one place later on, and hopefully learn more about their pasts and their current situation.
It would take a few days; perhaps even more, if Lexa wanted to meticulously note all her findings down somewhere else and tried to make sense of it all, with regards to their predicament. Especially when the notebooks didn't provide much help in discerning their situation, for most of it were sketches that were of majestic towers and machinery and rubble; but when she looked, tried to find the places that were drawn there, she realised that they were nothing like here.
However, it did not mean that it would be impossible to retrieve their memories. For even if it were sketches of places that once was; even of places imaginary that wasn't here, it was a step. A step towards their pasts and their memories.
There was another notebook she had found, during one of the times when they went out hunting and left her behind—one that had seemed almost alike a diary, and when Lexa flipped through found that it was abundant to the core with sketches and text—which she had told all of them about once they returned home, and ever since had kept it stowed away. Something told her that the notebook was important; and even though the words were hard to discern, and the letters had sometimes been jammed so closely she had to squint to look—she would read and transcribe, as long as it was necessary.
Hopefully, her time would be not for nought—and hopefully, their answers would reside within there, in an inconspicuous brown notebook that was overlooked by them all.
...
? Days After Praimfaya
''You don't need to care so much about food, Luna,'' Clarke said, a small, exasperated smile on her face, as she watched Luna furiously scribble notes about their food storage in a notebook. ''We've got more than enough now. After all, we hunt all day, and that's quite enough in itself, isn't it?''
''No, it is not, Clarke,'' Luna grunted, still turned to the back of Clarke as she wrote down notes on the notebook, accompanied by what seemed like some furious dotting which very nearly broke the graphite. ''We hunt every day because that is the only way if we wish to secure our supplies for the four of us. Food is more important than you realise, and thus is why we need to spend so much time on it.''
Clarke sighed, the smile still toying her face, as she looked at a very intently focused Luna. ''I'm not saying it isn't,'' she began, trying to keep the slight exasperation from her voice. ''I'm just saying that—Luna, you're quite obsessed with food. Have you ever thought of the possible reasons behind that...?''
Luna scowled. ''Shoj op, Clarke. I am merely doing it for all of us. Not for the nonsensical reason you have conjured in your head wherein I have a food obsession.'' There was a pause. ''Additionally, having a supply of food is not a bad thing. Do not shame me when I am doing something for the good of us.''
