Trigger warning in this chapter (it's a little rougher than I normally write).

When the morning comes,

When we see what we've become,

In the cold light of day,

We're a flame in the wind,

Not the fire that we've begun.

- Marshmello feat Bastille, Happier

4

Tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, Strife slowly braided the yellow stems together, surprised by how hard it was. It was requiring every bit of focus and stubbornness that he had. He was not going to let an eight-year-old beat him at making damn flower crowns.

"How's this?" He held up his finished product. The yellow stems of a nearby grass had been braided together, little purple, yellow, and white flowers woven in to bring in some color. His voice caused Thomas to stir a little against his leg. Clearing his voice, Strife leaned in closer to Rosaline, brandishing the crown so she could examine it. "What do you think?" he said in a softer tone.

A smile flashed across the little girl's thin lips. She motioned for his flowers. With a sigh, he passed it along to her and watched as her agile fingers worked with his terrible handiwork. When she was done, she held it up for him to see. "Okay?" she said, her voice softer than a whisper.

"Okay? Okay? I think that this might be the best flower crown that I have ever seen!" The White Horseman plucked the crown from Rosaline's hands. Praising the fact that no one was near him other than little kids to make fun of him, Strife plopped the crown upon his dark hair and struck a pose. "I think that this crown is just my style here! You have to go into business with these things! They would sell!"

Rosaline immediately dissolved into giggles, cheeks dotted red. The Horseman was glad to see her smile and laughed along with the other little girls that were placing their own crowns upon their heads.

What a sight. Strife was so happy that none of the other Horsemen were there to watch him; somehow he had been assigned to watch the youngest of the children for that day. When Andrew had approached him, telling him his assignment of babysitting at least twenty kids, Strife had not been very pleased about babysitting a bunch of kids. He had asked what he was supposed to do. Andrew had simply shrugged: "just do the things that you liked when you were a kid. They'll be one or two guards to protect you." As Strife had calmly stated, he had never been a child to know what they liked.

In the end, the two guards taking them to the children's normal spot to play. It was like a haven, about four miles from the actual camp next to a little creek where the children could wade safely in the water. Apparently, others brought the children here to fish and collect materials for the camp. Strife didn't feel like helping Andrew. After staring at each for several minutes, Strife brainstormed for a little while before giving up and asked what the children would like to do.

They stared at him for a moment or two – no one ever asked them what they wanted – before they started. A shouting match of little kids demanding that they all do what they wanted. Strife gave it some thought (one of the guards told him that he was stupid for even considering it) and then shrugged. "Well, since we have all day, we might as well just do it all." The guards had stared at him in disbelief before rolling their eyes and walking somewhere else.

They had played soccer, gave each other war paint, cut someone's hair, shot Strife's guns, cut flowers, napped, ate sweets, and were currently making flower crowns while the ones who didn't rolled around in the mud. Almost all of them had claimed that today was the best days of their lives, and the ones who hadn't were wearing huge smiles. Even Strife was feeling the happiest that he had felt since... since before the Charred Council. Decades of stress, guilt, and frustration slowly rolled off his shoulders as he was taught how to play a human sport (that he had played before and was pretty sure that half the rules the kids gave him wasn't right), nervously cut a little girl's hair so short that it hardly brushed her ears, made time to pass around some of the children's stashes of candy for everyone to try, and use the mud to draw silly war designs on each other's faces. Thomas had passed out in Strife's lap when flower crown-crafting started, wore out from the day's activities.

He was learning a lot from the children as well. He had learned that really quickly that children hardly had filters. From these kids, he now knew the camp's history, majority of the people (by kid nicknames however like Long Beard, Pickle-nose Girl, and one guard named Sun-burn that one of the kids spelled out of hatred), and the inner workings of those who survived there. Most of the girls sewed and cooked, and only four of them were older than six and felt like being there was a waste of time. All of the boys had been hunting and majority had already killed at least once. They were mostly the one's interested in learning how to shoot Strife's pistols. Despite their age, the time had forced all of them to mature quickly. None of these children were ever saw as children. Which was understandable when everything was trying to kill them.

And that was why Strife decided to give them at least a day of their childhood back.

Some were worse than others. There was a boy who didn't have parents and he cared for two of his younger siblings by himself. One was so young that she was still bottle-fed. The other children had made fun of twelve-year-old Abraham for not hunting or doing other 'manly' things, which had been encouraged by their parents. Abraham's mother had traded sex for favors at the camp and the youngest child's birth had been too much. Abraham fought for their survival constantly without any help. His mother had been his only family and most of the other members in the camp refused to help, claiming that the child had bad luck. Strife had quickly set those ones straight, trying to explain why they should instead help the child.

Another example was Rosaline; though older than many of the children as an eight-year-old but still allowed playtime as Andrew's daughter, she was the best sewer there and could already use a few magical spells as Mama's apprentice. When they had started playing, she had awkwardly stood off to the side. It had taken several minutes of coaxing from Strife before the child had felt comfortable to play with the others because it was 'selfish' of her to have fun. She never spoke much to Strife or the other children, so the few words she did say the others listened closely.

"How is my crown?" Several of the other girls began calling out to him, laughing as he tried each one to either gain their approval or their entertained smiles. It took several minutes of trying on everyone's before he claimed that he was done with dress-up, flopping over into the golden grass.

Soft and cool, the golden grass swallowed him. The soil underneath was like a cool towel, having been shaded from the sun by the grass. With its height, Strife had misplaced three or four of the younger children, which had prompted hide-and-seek at one point. He was slowly deciding that this was his favorite place. The children played in the background, happy for once, and the sounds of nature surrounded them, peaceful and sluggish from the sun. If he leaned back far enough, he might be able to actually escape.

One of the kids wandered over when Strife didn't move for a little bit. Poking Strife in the arm, they asked, "Are you dead?" which incited more giggles from the gathering of children.

The children immediately matured when one of the guards approached, rolling his eyes at Strife as the Horseman sat up. With a gun hanging loosely from his hands, Strife could understand why the children shied away from the man. Or it could have been the creepy smile he targeted at a few. Strife had heard some of the younger children's whispers about that guard, some warning the youngest not go anywhere near the man alone. Humans. They were disgusting creatures sometimes; he couldn't help the slight growl as the guard held out a hand for him to help him stand.

Turning his nose up, Strife grunted as he stood by himself, lifting Thomas with him. Sun-burn, the guard, lifted the side of his mouth in a slight snarl. Despite being ex-Horseman (sorta, Strife didn't really know what to call him and his siblings anymore), many of the humans in Andrew's camp failed to recognize the danger that they were in their presence. In their defense, there was a lot of dangerous things where they lived. Maybe they were just immune to the Horseman's threats. Strife didn't appreciate it and took Death's advice for once in his life; "They have to learn at some point to fear us."

Sun-burn wiped at some of the sweat on his brow and motioned in the direction of camp. "Ya gettin' ready to leave here soon? Afternoon is normally when some of the demons and more dangerous animals wake up from their naps."

"They would mess with us in this large of a group?" Strife had fought some of these beings for centuries; despite his silly personality, he knew a lot about the creatures. Like most solitary, predatory large animals, demons tended to stray from large groups. Safety in numbers.

"We got a bunch of kids, man. Those bastards won't hesitate."

A few of the children slunk away into the grass as he turned to leave. Strife's eyes narrowed when the guard stopped, reaching for one of the girls who hadn't moved. She shied away immediately, her face paling and eyes widening. "What'd you do with your hair, kid? I liked it long."

It suddenly dawned upon Strife why Helen had wanted her hair cut. One of the children had offered the activity as a joke, but Helen had repeated it when Strife asked her what she wanted to do, demanding that they do it right then. Strife hadn't questioned it at the moment, mostly because it had never crossed his mind that something terrible had happened. He had done as she asked. With a borrowed knife, Strife had gathered her soft, hay-colored hair in his hands and sliced the strands of her hair, attempting to follow the drawing she had briefly made in the mud for him to follow. Anger welled in his stomach as Strife approached Sun-burn and cowering Helen. She had been a spitfire this entire time until Sun-burn had gotten near. It broke his heart.

"Dress up got out of hand and we gave her hair a makeover." Strife moved between the two, shoving the man's hand away from what strands of hair the girl had left. "Why don't you go do your job with the other guard up there?"

The guard blinked at him, clearly surprised. "Whatacha tryin' to do man?"

"I won't repeat myself," Strife merely said. For a moment or two, the other human didn't move. Strife bulked himself up, trying to intimate what War did when he was trying to scare others; he slowly puffed out his chest and crossed his arms, flexing. The Horseman memorized Sun-burn's face; the acne, the scarred right side, the greasy dark hair, skin burnt from the constant sun. Dubbed Sun-burn, the kids' warnings flashed back through Strife's mind. He snickered briefly. "A little different when a big bad man tells you no, isn't it?"

Sun-burn frowned, gaze flickering over to several of the kids. He slowly pieced together what had happened and took a step back from Strife. "I ain't gotta listen to you. Andrew's my boss."

"Guess who is going to be Andrew's boss soon?"

With a huff, the guard finally decided to leave. When Sun-burn was mostly out of sight, Helen pulled on his jeans. Strife bent to her height. "Thank you," she whispered, tears glistening briefly in her eyes. Strife pulled her into a brief hug, messing up her freshly cut hair.

"No problemo, kid. But Sun-burn is right about one thing. We should get moving before too long. Pack up everybody!"

The children moved with the efficiency of being nomad children; within three minutes, every sleeping child was woken, muddy children had washed off, and flower crowns were situated upon heads. Despite the encouragement to do the same, Strife did not wear his flower crown as they began leaving the little play area. He made sure to look back briefly, wondering if he would ever feel that relaxed ever again. Several of the children reached for his hands when they started leaving. He claimed for another timing session and all the children traded responsively as they started crossing the landscape to Andrew's camp. Sun-burn and the other guard trekked up ahead, Sun-burn still clearly fuming from the event earlier.

Their voices drifted softly across the golden grass. The children did most of the speaking, talking about seemingly unimportant things like their flower crowns, the little bugs that hopped from the glass blades, and the shapes of the clouds. From battle-hardened boys and girls, Strife watched them relax as he held their hands. A spark of pride flickered through him. These humans, the Kingdom of Man, were alive because of him.

Being disguised as a human had been much harder than being an actual human. As Jones, Strife had still had his Horseman powers, though he hardly used them in an attempt to remain hidden from the Charred Council. Jones was strong, a leader, and had protected the rag-tagged group of humans that had somehow managed to survive when one of the Seals had been broken. When he found he couldn't protect them by himself, he had looked for other options, eventually hearing rumor of a safe haven controlled by a huge, red-headed giant. Combined with Ulthane and Fury's dedication (after he let her do most of the work), some had lived. They had let them return to Earth once everything was corrected. Most of these children's ancestors most likely linked back to those strong people. He could see some of their determination in these children still. It was nice to see some of them hang on.

Pride replaced itself with pain as Abraham called out to him once they had gone about a mile, asking him if he could carry his little sister, Thorn. Strife had helped them, but his assistance had come with a lot of pain. Instead of fighting, they had gone into hiding. Restless ones perished from impatience, ignorant ones were washed into the fray of battles between Heaven and Hell, and rebellious ones had sunk away at night, normally found later as scrapes of a demon's meal. They had lost people from disease, unhealable injuries, and accidents. That was during the fake End War. Afterwards, when the Horsemen had returned the humans to Earth, Strife could only imagine the horrors that they had to go through. From a life of constant flight, many had shifted to permanent residents. The transition could not have been easy with all of the crazy things that had appeared on Earth.

Thorn was so small in his arms. He had accepted her graciously, wanting to give Abraham a brake, but immediately regretted it. The crying and sobbing and screaming and such didn't bother him. While some of the children covered their ears, Strife just pulled her closer, cooing at her softly until she fell back asleep. His problem came with the remainder that this could have been his child that he was holding. He didn't have to kill Turbulence; he had blindly following the Charred Council when he should have been asking questions instead...

They were climbing a hill when someone started crying. It was about halfway through the trip back, unfortunately a pretty steep incline. Strife slowed, releasing Thomas's hand to grab Redemption in one swift motion in case someone needed it. He knew that he would later; he doubted that anyone would be impressed that he had spent the day taking care of kids, especially Death. Cradling Thorn closely to his chest, he descended through the children slowly as he approached the crying boy, telling everyone to stay and calling out to the boy not to worry.

It was a steep hill, the trail cut through by travelers with wagons or other large creatures that had dragged their bodies along. While not mountains, it was a steep obstacle that was randomly in place to separate the children's paradise from the rest of the world. Broken rocks made anyone slow their advance. The children had been helping each by grabbing hands, steadying each other, and calling out stable routes. They hadn't come this way earlier; Sun-burn and the other guard had insisted that it was the fastest way back. Strife had only listened to them because they knew the area better than him and some of the children had confirmed it. The descent was harder than climbing upwards, and Strife could see why they hadn't came this way. Abraham began following him when he passed him, saying that he would hold onto Thorn once they got there.

Rosaline was beside the boy once Strife had declined enough to see them. One of the last, the boy had slipped. His left arm was bleeding from several scrapes, but there didn't appear to be too many breaks. Grateful for at least that, Strife demanded that they stay put one more time before he began the last little descent to get to them.

Somewhere ahead on the trail, another child called out. A series of panicked voices followed. Strife glanced back, his heart dropping as a couple pointed into the sky. "Oh goodie," he dead panned as a bird's screech echoed across the rocks.

One of the guards shouted a warning from one of the rocks above the children, a gun sounding only seconds later. The children screamed, ducking against the side of the mountain and each other. Another bird-like screech, this one so loud that it woke Thorn up, who immediately began crying. A shadow swooped, large and monstrous, and a scream sounded. For a second, Strife's heart leapt into his throat, thinking that one of the children that wasn't in his view was in danger. Relief flooded through him as one of the guards (hopefully Sun-burn) plummeted down. His bones broke audibly as they slapped against the trial and rolled off, once again free-falling. The body was in the air only for a few seconds before the largest bird that Strife had ever seen swooped down to collect its prize. It was so close, that Strife jerked as a feather slapped the side of his cheek.

"Take Thorn." Strife shoved the still crying children back into Abraham's arms so the Horseman could move freely again. "What's attacking us?" Abraham only shook his head in stunned silence.

As if listening, the bird rose to their level. Its twenty-foot wingspan almost knocked Strife over with its power. Dust and smaller pebbles flew out from the path with every flap. Holding the body in its talons, the bird shrieked at them as it hovered just in front of them, causing the children to scream again. The bird looked like a cross between an eagle and a buzzard; what glossy brown feathers it had toward its head lost their shine as it continued down its body, ending with pink skinned feet. White plumage was the only other color, besides from the yellow-tipped beak and eyes. With another shriek, the bird took one massive flap and was gone.

Strife racked his brain, trying to figure out what it was. He hadn't realized that there were any birds on Earth that was this large. Knowing that it could come back, Strife shouted at the kids to keep going, deciding that Redemption was very needed for this trip. After that sight, he might have just shit his pants.

"I'm scared," cried out the injured boy, reminding Strife why he had walked back there in the first place.

"I know, kid, I know." Strife knelt beside him, inspecting the boy's injuries. It was worse than he had thought earlier; most of the skin had been scraped off and some rocks had embedded themselves into the boy's skin. For a child, it was a challenge to encourage them to move because of it. The Horseman reached for his shirt, wanting to at least cover the wound before they continued, but Rosaline stopped him with a brief hand to his shoulder. "What?"

Rosaline reached for the boy's arm. She breathed a few words, closing her eyes. Strife's eyes raised when a soft glow appeared around the boy's wound. The rocks slowly wiggled free, falling to the ground with soft plats, and the boy's brown skin slowly raveled itself about his arm. When it was almost completely healed, Rosaline released the boy with a gasp, shakingly falling forward. The Horseman shook himself free of surprise; now things made more sense. Mama was training Rosaline to heal others. That was why they frowned upon her having fun and doing things. She had a duty to fulfill, even this at age.

Grabbing her before she could face-plant against the trail, Strife helped the child steady herself as the boy realized that he was healed, staring wide-eye at where the injury used to be. She was breathing heavily, her face flushed from effort. "You surprise me more and more. Can you walk?" he asked her, impressed. When she nodded, he shooed them both back onto the path, darting up to the front to check on the others.

Sun-burn had doubled back and was standing in the middle of the trail, still partially in shock. His clothes were dusty as if he had rolled in a gravel pit, which he probably had. He looked at Strife blankly for a moment, saying "shit. Daniel's dead." The disbelief was thick in Sun-burn's voice, but Strife refused to take pity on the man.

"I saw that. When you get thrown off a damn hill like that and then taken by some massive damn bird, I don't think many can survive that. What the hell was it?" snapped Strife.

The lack of sympathy and aggressive tone must have woken Sun-burn because he broke from the spell. He sent Strife a small glare. "It was a roc. Daniel came across the nest and the damn thing attacked." Sun-burn pointed at the path up the hill. "It's made its nest right on the hill path. We're not going to be able to pass it without the thing attackin' again. They're really defensive of their young 'uns. We either take our chances with the path or turn back and go the long way."

"What? That thing was a roc? Who's the smart ass that decided that? It doesn't even look like one!" Strife frowned as some of the children stirred nervously behind him, catching on to his frustration. "If we go the long way, it'll be night before we get back, won't it?"

Sun-burn nodded. "It might be better to go back up the path, but we don't have the gunpower to face that shit."

"I'm not risking the children's lives either," Strife reminded Sun-burn.

"We're going to be riskin' them either way you choose! Ya think ya can protect twenty kids from the shit that comes out at night or one fat damn bird?" Strife remained quiet, staring blankly at his hands before glancing at Sun-burn with a wicked gleam in his eyes. The guard returned his gaze in confusion. After a moment, he burst into laughter. "Ya think you can kill a roc? It's not possible."

The Horseman gave him a smile. "I really just need to distract him long enough for everyone to run."

Eyes narrowing, Sun-burn looked over Strife's shoulder. "Which kid you plan on usin' then?"

As the children moved further away from them, Strife felt every inkling of respect evaporate for Sun-burn, especially when the guard smiled, stretching the horrid acne across his face. When Strife had first thought of using Sun-burn as bait for the roc, he had felt a little bad. The massive bird had torn the other guard's body to pieces. Now, after knowing that Sun-burn was a rapist and willing to throw a child's life away, Strife had no problem knowing that he was going to die a gruesome death. At least no one would care.

"None of them." Strife's voice had dropped.

Sun-burn turned back to the Horseman. "Huh?" He stared at Strife before shaking his head. "What are you thinkin'?"

"I think I have the perfect distraction already planned out, actually. None of the children will be necessary."

"I'm your guard! You think that you can keep all of them safe without me?" Panic was starting to develop in Sun-burn's eyes. Clearly, the combination of Strife's silence and his slow deliberation of which pistol to use was beginning to frighten the guard. Another 'point' to keep him alive must have gave him some confidence because Sun-burn leapt off the rock he had been on, reaching Strife's level and putting a finger in his face aggressively. "You kill me and someone's going to figure out that you murdered me! I have friends in high places, jackass! Just think of –!"

As fast as lightning, Strife snatched the man's thought, cutting Sun-burn's threats off abruptly. A few of the children squeaked in fright but, when Strife looked back to make sure, the older ones turned them. The child that had cut her hair, Helen, had tears in her eyes as she watched with a disgusted look on her face. When Sun-burn tried to speak again, Strife tightened his grip, choking Sun-burn for a few more moments. Silence drifted around them for a few moments before Strife smiled slowly. He felt the man gulp as perspiration began to dot across Sun-burn's forehead.

Everyone knew that this was what the White Horseman did best. Feared every bit as Death was, every creature of the universe knew the danger of when Strife attacked. Blood shined, intestine scattered the ground, limbs hung from high places... he was a messy killer. When Strife was hired, he got the job done as nastily as possible. That's just what he did. The excitement of the kill was gone here as he held Sun-burn, showing off his pathetic human strength as he lifted the guard off the ground. There was no joy as he watched the pain tighten across Sun-burn's face. Each emotion he had when he killed was sapped knowing that he was killing an absolute monster. Strife had killed monsters too. Somehow, it was different coming from this man when it was children that Strife had been with for only a day and he had no idea how long this man had been torturing these children.

"I don't think you should be wasting your breath explaining why your dumb ass shouldn't die. Because you're not making it across this path alive." Strife placed a terrified Sun-burn on his feet. He changed his grip to the man's coat, clutching it to the point that the guard cringed. "Lemme tell you something right now. I am not wasting bullets on you. But I guarantee that I can kill you in more ways that the roc can, so I think that you should do exactly what I tell you. Or..." Strife leaned in close, whispering a threat.

Sun-burn did everything that Strife told him to do after that.

He rushed the children through the path, wanting to make sure that most of them did not see Sun-burn's death. The only one who did was Helen; her eyes were full of tears as she had whispered it. As the other children had continued up the path, Abraham praying for Thorn to remain silent and the older ones ushering the others, Strife had held out his hand for Helen. "I guess someone should come with me to make sure that the roc does its job." Her hand shook as she took his, but her determination made the anger around Strife's heart melt.

Strife had Mercy as he made sure that Sun-burn did what he was supposed to. The pistol was mostly for the roc if it decided to attack them. If Sun-burn didn't do his job... Strife had a special plan for him. But Sun-burn did everything. He walked up to the front of the path where the roc's nest was, hesitated for a moment, and then threw his arms around, screaming. The noise instantly attracted the huge bird. It turned to the guard, wings lifted aggressively. A small hatchling cackled behind the mother bird as it approached Sun-burn. The guard visibly gulped and took off in the opposite direction of the path that the children would be taking. Sun-burn lasted perhaps a minute before the roc pushed him right off the side of the mountain. Helen's hand tightened until the second Sun-burn disappeared over the edge, her sigh of relief audible. She was even more relieved when the roc dove after Sun-burn, returning seconds later with ripped clothes in its beak.

The best part, other than not actually witnessing the guard's death because Strife did not want Helen to witness that, was the roc itself. Strife stood guard patiently as the children passed through the roc's sight. There appeared to be a mutual understanding between them. Yellow eyes never leaving Strife, the roc merely sat beside its nest the entire time that Strife kept the creature in his sights. As long as he didn't hurt its baby, then the roc wasn't going to hurt his children.

When they saw Andrew's camp in the distance, declining the last of the hill, Strife was extremely relieved. With no guards, he was constantly on alert for a less understanding roc or anything else that might want to harm the children. Lucky, there wasn't much at the moment. He knew that they were there though; the sabretooth tiger they passed, casually sunning on the edge of a rock with its huge paws daintily crossed, only yawned as they passed and the small group of demons that they saw thought better when Strife waved his pistols in the air, hoping they would recognize their gleam. Some of the younger children had trouble keeping up but they worked together to get them across. Rosaline had almost passed out soon after the roc, so the Horseman had resorted to carrying the girl, Thomas worriedly walking beside him. Thorn had woken a little while ago and was screaming her hunger. Strife couldn't have been happier to see the camp in the distance.

Probably the only reason they saw the child was because Strife had allowed his to wander, knowing the he could lower his security in the proximity of Andrew's camp. The two boys that found him had been chasing a frog, pausing when they heard his crying. Like two responsible little warriors, they had helped the lost boy to his feet and helped him to Strife.

"Uh, he's not one of us," Strife commented as they walked up, one of the boys waving to catch his attention.

"No, but I like his shirt!" Thomas claimed.

The Horseman briefly rolled his eyes; the face that the boy wore a ragged spiderman shirt probably wasn't the most important thing at the moment. "You know him?" he asked the sleepy Rosaline. She brought her face from out of his chest long enough to peek at the boy before shaking her head and returning to her former position.

"He was cryin' near the river! He said he doesn't know where his friends are!" one of the boys announced, gesturing to the still crying boy.

Strife took him in as he crouched to the young boy's height. He was weak, dirty, skinny. Dirt smudged majority of his exposed skin with the only exceptions being the trail of his tears, his green eyes dull with malnourishment and illness. Eyes sunken and hooded, his blond hair was a mess. When Strife offered a hand, he could practically count the boy's bones in his fingers when he placed his hand in the Horseman's. "Are you lost, buddy?" Strife asked softly.

The boy nodded. "I lost everyone when the demons attacked."

"Demons?" Strife glanced over the grass. There weren't any bodies that he could see.

"They disappeared when they were killed. That's why you can't see them." Strife blinked by the boy's explanation. As far as he knew, demons didn't really do that on Earth (not with everything going on anyways) but he would believe the child if he said so. "But I lost my friends." More tears came.

"Oh, you don't have to cry, little buddy. We're find your friends! I think that they might be over there, where we're going." Strife pointed to the camp to show him where they were going. "Do you want to go with us?"

The boy faltered. An unheard battle flickered across his face before he shook his head, now nervously chewing on the sleeves of his shirt. "Zahara told me to always stay put if I got lost. He said that he would come find me if we got separated." He looked around as if expecting 'Zahara' at any moment.

"I would feel better if you went with us in the camp. There'll be water, food. A bed! How does a bed sound?"

Again, the boy faltered. His teeth grinded on the fabric of his shirt some more. Some of the children around them babbled, saying how good that the camp was. The boy shook his head again. "I don't know. Zahara should be here soon."

Strife sighed. "Well, I'm not leaving you here, little buddy. What would make you go to the camp?"

"If Zahara was there."

"What if I told you we'll look for Zahara once we're in the camp?" The boy opened his mouth to say something, but Strife beat him too it. "I will personally look for this Zahara the second that we are there, promise! We'll shake hands on it. I'm being that serious about finding Zahara." Strife offered a hand.

Gently, the boy took his hand. It took Strife a second to realize that the boy wasn't being gentle, that the extent of his strength was in that one little grip. Strife smiled at the boy, trying to be as nice as possible. "My name is Strife, little buddy. What's yours?"

"I'm Jack-Jack."