Song of the Chapter: Laguna - Eminence (Trance)

(Monstercat's POV)

The night is full of music and laughter, and I swear Noisestorm can get high on oxygen. Phantom reappears at around two in the morning, along with Hellberg and a couple of other artists. Phantom seems happy that his smuggled music is being used for something good, and I get a bubbly feeling whenever I listen to it. It's so good. I feel it in my soul.

We play lots of songs, and I love to watch the reactions of their artists as they come on. Some seem almost embarrassed-ly happy, others laugh and sing along, but the best reactions are the ones that jump up and down, like they'd never thought someone would play their song. For the first time in a while, I actually feel happy. Being with other people who love the same things I do and treat me normally makes me laugh. I haven't laughed in a while.

We all crash at about three thirty in the morning. When I wake up, I find myself curled up like an actual Earth cat in Fij's sleeping bag and wonder where he is. Yawning, I climb out and blink in the morning sun. Most of the others managed to make it to someone's tent, but Tristam is on the ground near the ashes of the fire and Noisestorm is literally sleeping in a bush, his hood pulled over his face and tightened so only his nose and mouth are showing.

I wander over and wonder if I should wake them, and then decide against it. While they're all sleeping, I head back to the river. I wonder where it leads. In my home world rivers always led somewhere important. Timidly, I step into the ice cold water and shudder, but continue onward. The cold shock keeps my thoughts grounded when they start to wander.

I'm not sure how long I walk, but eventually, I can see a bridge in the distance, with some buildings surrounding it. That must be Vancouver. I pick up my pace and climb out, running on all fours up to the bridge.

Cars race over it, once they get past the officers patrolling the road just before it. The officers seem bored, and the people in the cars barely have time to roll down their windows before they're waved forward.

I bet we could get in, easily. We could get more supplies, if nothing else. Excited, I race back to tell the artists my plan. I know they have a truck. We could sneak everyone in and start our rebellion. I pause briefly. What if they are trying to be peaceful? Rebellions aren't always the most peaceful things. I shrug off the feeling. If they feel this passionate about their music, they're bound to go along with my plan.

I come back to Stephen freaking out. "Where have you been?" he demands. "I thought we'd lost you."

"You care that much?" I grin at him. "I've been exploring. I have an idea."

"About what?" Ephixa is wide awake, and practically jumping around.

"Getting into Vancouver. Follow me." I start forward, but pause.

"We can't get in," Tristam says, rubbing his back that must be aching after sleeping on the cold, hard ground. "Trust me, I tried. They patrol the bridge and every other way in."

"They looked super bored. They let in everyone without even checking." I rub my paws together in anticipation. "We can just sneak in, like normal drivers."

Tristam looks doubtful, but Noisestorm, still half asleep, shouts, "Oh, yeah, WE'RE GOING TO VANCOUVER!"

●•●•●•●

(Evee's POV)

I rub my necklace nervously and continue my roam through the forest. What was I thinking, leaving my home like that? I shake my head. I know what I'd been thinking. My father had wanted to burn my violin, saying it would "attract too much attention from the Music Industry". We do live in Vancouver, the MI's base, and I understand his caution, but then he took it too far and tried to destroy everything - my stories, my books, my drawings, my music. I got in the way and he tried to hurt me. I don't understand that part. He was so worried about staying safe that he forgot about his own daughter.

I smooth my skirt and leggings. At least I could have picked a different outfit - although I didn't have much time to grab everything and run. I only have my violin and a bag full of my stories and artwork, plus some water and whatever random snack food happened to be in the pantry when I raided it. He acted fast, and I acted faster.

At first, as I was leaving, I wasn't afraid. Now I am. I don't know how I'll survive out here by myself. I'm hopelessly lost, too, so I can't go back, even if I want to. The more I dwell on these thoughts, the more afraid I get. I just want to sit down and cry for a little bit.

I'm searching for a suitable crying spot when I step on a dead branch that snaps, sounding like a firecracker. I jump in surprise and try to calm my racing heartbeat, but I hear another branch snap, off to my left, hidden by the dense trees. Carefully, I set my violin case and backpack down by a rock and start forward.

What if it's an animal? What if it's one of the MI? What if it's some crazy hobo in the woods?

It's neither of these things. As I push through the trees, I come face to face with a shining silver sword point. I yelp in surprise and fear and jump backward, tripping over myself and getting a better look at the intruder.

He's taller than I am, but I'm short, so that doesn't really matter. He has light brown hair that sticks out from under his Roman helmet, and I wonder why in the world he'd wear it. He's also wearing a red jacket and a white shirt with 'ROGUE' written on it, and he has a shield strapped to his back. His eyes are wild and terrified, and even though the sword is threatening enough, he's shaking in fear. "Who are you?" he demands, his voice shaking as well. His expression mirrors my own.

"Wh-who are you?" I reply, trying to sound brave and failing miserably.

"You first."

"I ... my name's Eveelyn."

"People call me Rogue," he mutters in an English accent, his eyes darting around nervously. The sword he holds stays raised. "Why are you here? Are you with the MI?"

"N-no. Are you?" I back up a little, in case he is.

He shakes his head and slowly lowers the weapon. "I'm ... I'm on the run."

"Me too." I breathe a sigh of relief. He's not going to turn me in. Maybe ... maybe he can even help me. I don't know if I would trust my life with this stranger, but I'm not left with much of a choice. I can either follow him blindly or wander by myself until I die alone in the forest. At least if I die with him, I'll know I'm with someone ... unless he's the one who kills me. "Why are you ... you know, running away?"

His expression darkens. "I can't tell you."

I shrug nervously. "Fair enough." I pause and awkwardly reach for my violin, only for a comfort. His frantic eyes watch my every move. "Um ... where are you going?" I ask quietly.

At first, he doesn't answer, but then his expression softens. "You're lost, aren't you?" I nod and he says, "So am I. We can be lost together?" He says it almost like a question.

I smile in relief. "If you really want to. I mean, I thought that you'd ..."

"Know where I'm going?" He shakes his head again and adjusts his helmet. "Not a clue. But I am looking for some friends ... you haven't seen them, have you?"

"I haven't seen anyone," I admit.

He drops his sword arm to his side and holds his other hand out to help me stand back up. Hesitantly, I accept it and he pulls me to my feet. His hand is sweaty and when we let go, we both wipe our hands on our pants awkwardly, his face bright red. "Sorry about that," he mutters.

I shake my head to tell him it was nothing. Then we're quiet, and I start to get uncomfortable."

"I think I saw some smoke last night, in ... that direction," he says to break the silence between us. "Maybe we could find people."

"I am almost out of food and water," I say, picking up my violin and story bag.

His face lights up. "You have food?"

"Do you want some?"

"Yes." He reaches out, and then pauses. "I mean, if you have any to spare ..."

"Yeah, hang on." I dig through my bag and pull out some chips, the only thing other than cookies. "Sorry," I say, giving it to him. "This is all I have left."

He doesn't seem to hear me. He drops his sword in the dirt and rips open the bag aggressively, seeming to inhale the chips in a second. He thanks me and crumples the empty bag, stuffing it into his jacket pocket. I know he's trying to hide it, but his eyes are hungry - pun not intended - and pleading for more.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" I ask suspiciously.

This time, he drops his eyes and mumbles under his breath. "Four or five days."

I gasp in disbelief. "Four or five days? I'm so sorry! Here." I dig out my package of cookies and hand it to him. "I know it's not much, but you need it more than I do."

"I shouldn't," he protests, but his hand goes against his words and grabs the package. They're gone in a second - except for three, and he gives those ones to me. I try to give them back, but he refuses. "They're yours. You deserve them."

I argue a little more and then realize how stupid we must sound - a girl with a violin insisting that a guy who looks he's cosplaying an ancient Roman should eat three stale cookies while he tries to give them back.

Eventually, I give up, accept the food, and put it back in my bag for later. We share a water bottle - which I never would have done in a normal situation, but we're both desperate and couldn't care less - and then we're on our way, heading toward the smoke he said he saw the night before.

He doesn't talk much, but somehow, I get him to open up a little. "I've always been pushed away," he tells me, "even by people I call friends. They think I have some emotional disorder - I don't know, maybe I do. Sometimes, I just switch between being super happy to wanting to stab something in only a second. I guess they don't really like that." As he speaks, I notice he ducks his head and kind of hides behind his helmet. "I mean, I try to control it, but it's hard sometimes. I make music," he adds, changing the subject, and his mood seems to lighten.

"Really? Me too." In return, I tell him a little about myself. He asks if I can play him a song on my violin, and I tell him no. I don't want to get all emotional around someone I just met ... even if I'm starting to trust him more than I trust my own parents. They weren't very trustworthy people.

We stop as the sun is setting and 'set up camp', though there's really nothing to set up. We just sit down and lay our stuff out to relax without the burdens.

I take out a notepad from my backpack and start to sketch. For some reason, my gaze is drawn to the stranger sitting across from me, leaning against a tree with his eyes closed. People call me Rogue, he said. Is it because of his wild emotions? He seemed pretty stable today.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts and scribble out my sketch, embarrassed as I realize what I'd been drawing. Although, the symbol on his shirt was fun to draw ...

Rogue smiles, still keeping his eyes closed. "That sounded aggressive."

"It was nothing," I grumble, tearing out the paper and crumpling it up into a little ball. I don't know why I suddenly got so angry. To calm myself, I reach for my violin case, grasping the handle until I steady my breathing.

We sit like this for a long time, until the stars come out and the moon is the only thing giving us light. Neither of us speak. Eventually, Rogue curls up and goes to sleep. I watch as his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, only to make sure he isn't going to wake up if I move. Once I'm positive he isn't, I slowly and carefully open my violin case and take out my instrument.

It's beautiful in the moonlight. I always loved to play at night. I stand up, careful not to rustle anything, and quietly try to tune it to the best of my ability, though I've never been one with perfect pitch. When I'm satisfied, I start to play, the notes flowing sweetly from my bow and drifting through the night air. The melody is sad and lonely, matching my feelings. I close my eyes and feel the music - I feel it right down to my soul.

I don't know how long I play, but when I finish, I open my eyes again, staring into nothing. I let my bow arm drop to my side, but keep my violin rested on my shoulder. The silence and darkness somehow seem less threatening now.

"Eveelyn," Rogue says softly.

I spin around wildly and stare at him, meeting his eyes. He's laying on his back now, visibly more relaxed than he'd been before. I'm about to yell at him or something, but he interrupts me.

"That was beautiful."

I can't do much more than stare at him with my mouth hanging open. He cracks a smile and rolls over so that his back is facing me.

"Thank you," I finally say, and I mean it.

As I lay down a couple feet away, I start to think that something invisible is evolving between us. I don't know what it is, but I think I kind of like it.