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Raindrops patter against the closed window in a slow rhythmic beat. With his eyes closed shut, Nicholas rests his head against the glass and feels the chill seep into his skin. This is what is familiar for him. Never having left the town in his life of 21 years, he has gotten used to the pouring weather of Lincoln so much that he can't imagine what it would be like somewhere else.

He's used to it so much so that the prospect of having to soon board a flight to Inverness sends a shimmer of dread racing down his spine, erecting goose bumps on his skin all the way. 

Sighing quietly, he turns his head to look to the front of the car — Stella is the one behind the wheel, racing down the roads, tapping her red painted nails on the steering wheel and bobbing her head; while Richard sits shotgun, his hands kept neatly folded in his lap apart from when he's fiddling with the music control to change the song every now and then, quietly mumbling the lyrics to himself.

The environment in the car buzzes with a strange mix of calmness and excitement. Just having gotten done with their bachelors, the group is ecstatic about going on a trekking trip across the Grampian Range. They are relieved of all worldly worries, ensured that the future will take care of itself. And maybe all of this is true for the two people sitting at the front.

But not for Nicholas.

Neither is his future secured, nor is he happy at finally being free. He'd much rather still be stuck pulling through hours of studying for his finals. At least back then he had a goal to keep him going through the day, something to push him through the motions. Now?

Now he feels as if he's floating in a sea of uncertainty.

Regardless of all this, he does know that he needs this trip, probably more so than his friends. He needs the change of scenery, even though the idea of anything other than the stuffy air he has grown up breathing leaves his heart racing in an erratic manner.

Nicholas takes in a deep breath, trying to clear his head and focus on the song just picking up its beat in the car — Waves. It's one of his favourites, and he's well aware that Stella hates it with almost every fibre of her being. Yet, the song's still playing now, in the car, and this causes a fleeting smile to grace his worried stricken features.

For Nick, one of the few good things to have come out of the four years he has spent in university are his friends. The two people at the front, each a piece of work on their own, have managed to nick away a place in his heart. Though, of course, he would never actually admit that.

He taps his fingers to the lyrics, mouthing every word as he goes, and feels his heartbeat casually pick up — in a good way, this time. Maybe, he finally thinks, the trip won't be so awful after all. At least, as long as his friends remain by his side.

Soon, too soon for Nick's liking, they reach the airport. And then the car is coming to a quick halt and Stella is screaming at them, "Let's go! Move your arses already!", and Nick finds himself having to catch his breath for a moment.

Slinging his rucksack over his shoulder, he holds the duffel bag in one hand and turns around just in time to see a flush of dirty blonde hair rush past him and into the tiny frame of Stella. He only has the time to mutter a Woah before the two girls are hugging each other like long lost friends.

Right, he recalls later with a bit of removed amusement, staring as the bright ball of sunshine extends her hand to him in way of greeting, Valeria.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, Valeria nibbles on the pencil in her mouth. Tracing her finger from landmark to landmark, she goes along mumbling the names to herself. "The Collection, Lincoln Castle, Belton House..."

Considering herself to be somewhat of a moonchild with a disposition to wanderlust, Valeria likes to travel a lot. In fact she has been to almost all of Britain at least once; Lincolnshire being one of the few remaining places. So now when she's finally here, Val finds herself having a bit of a hard time trying not to think about all the possible sites she could visit, of all the possible places to go for sightseeing. Being on the tight schedule that she is though, she can't afford to divert from the path leading straight and true to the airport. After all, Val smiles to herself, she has a flight to catch.

Having spent the better part of the previous year on a world tour, Valeria was just round the bend for having to return back home to London, back to her father and the impending decision about her future. So when a friend she had once made on a trip to California called her up to ask if she'd be interested in going on a camping trip to the Grampian Mountains, Val had found herself saying yes in the blink of an eye.

For her the trip is one last ditch attempt at making her life last a little longer, one final cry of help at trying to postpone her inevitable future.

If nothing else, she gathers that it will at least manage to quench her thirst for the freedom and rush of travelling for a tad bit longer whilst she'd be stuck inside the aristocratic and stifling walls of their flat in London.

So when Valeria catches the glimpse of the airport, a fairly large structure looming in the distance, she finds her hands tightening their grip on the tourist voucher she has been holding, creasing the once pristinely straight paper.

There, she thinks, feeling her heart pick up its pace, now beating in a frantic, excited manner.

Hurriedly, Valeria pays the driver his fare, shooting him a winning smile. She then gathers her bags and steps out, almost stumbling over her feet in her haste. Breathing the slightly damp yet fresh air in, she lets a bright smile find its way onto her face.

She swears, she can almost taste it in on her tongue then — friends, mountains, camping.

Placing one foot in front of the other, shebegins walking toward the gates — Freedom.