Leaves crunch underfoot. Autumn may come yet. Despite everything, the earth continues either to turn on its axis, or to pretend.

You walk away from the Bastion and into the forest, and the distance between you and the place seems to grow exponentially with each step.

It is not the first time you have walked away from a false sanctuary.

It is the first time it has felt that the choice is entirely yours.

God feels closer than ever. It is the blurring of your vision at its seams. It is the static in your ears that replaces silence. It is normal things, unremarkable things, things that anyone could achieve. Even Verity, false though she is, must suffer the occasional bout of tinnitus.

And, yet… it is remarkable that your senses are in such sharp focus, now, sharper than ever before. Not new – you have had enlarged pupils, an over-salivating mouth, the stench of your surroundings amplified by tenfold before – but remarkable. You feel lucid. Uncomfortably alert. Predatory instead of preylike.

Perhaps survival is all about this feeling.

Perhaps, without the soft cushion of an organised Faith to fall back on, and without the velveteen gloves of a faceless leader lacing her fingers into yours and tugging you forth, you are walking alone for the first time.

And yet.

When you ask, God seems to answer.

It has never been quite so easy.

Cooking is grounding. It's as connected as you can be to the earth without working directly in the soil. You knead dough, slice meat, chop vegetables, all as normal, but they're more plentiful than usual. You wonder briefly if this bounty is due to your newfound spiritual connection.

You stop wondering as soon as you realise it's due to Colby, dedicated supplier as usual. This time, he harvests from the garden without you or Rhys asking for it, instead of bringing you squirrel meat. You don't remember to thank him, lost in thought as you are. You do remember, from then on, not to over-credit your spiritual connection with anything. It seems that asking amounts to being told answers, not being given them.

Leaves crunch underfoot as you go into the woods and find I there. You came out in search of others and ended up finding him. It is a surprise, although, as you reflect on it, maybe not. After all, the powers must have known that you meant to give him this.

“Water. It's safe.” You hand over a clean bottle, as calmly as possible, trying not to overdo it. Too much chiding and he'll panic about it.

He squints at you. Then he takes it and shoves it into his rucksack.

“Looking for expedition supplies,” he says at long last, when the silence between you has passed enough that it feels cloying. You look at the packet in his hands – a scavenged parcel of meat jerky. You must have wrapped it, ages ago, and someone else must have dropped it en route, back when leaving camp was something to lie about and necessitated quick self-concealment.

You nod. What else is there to do?

Having journeyed into the woods intending to find one thing, you found another in the form of a friend. As you start to journey slowly back, together, feeling perhaps nonsensically that this is one of your final, finite journeys back to the Bastion, you decide on a new intention. You're going to find Verity, help her learn to cook. Help her learn to pick up a normal life again, to stop being underhanded, to…

…

…

Having selected a new intention, and fixated on it, your Faith finds you something else.

You feel it suddenly, inexplicably, with an unqualifiable clarity. You turn to I.

“What is–” he begins.

You cut him off.

“It was Devin. Not Verity. He collected that contaminated bottle on purpose.”

i You have a ready-made excuse if anyone asks where you're going. The Bunker has infrastructure the Bastion can only dream of – after all, it never faced more than a single insurgent.

It turns out, though, that your excuse is useless. So is maintaining your reputation. If there was anyone left to do it for, it might have worked. You help Salithra out at the cooking pit, you scrub pots, pans, and tools clean – hell, you even take a medical supply inventory, for the first time in years.

When you get a moment you're sure is unwatched, you find your truck. Turns out that, although Chris and Naomi agreed (it feels so long ago, to have had them around, to have had them in charge of anything) to use it as an extraneous store room, the Medic still guarded her supplies jealously, and there's nothing medical except a first aid kit to be found. That's enough, though, for one person.

Maybe even for two.

You leave camp in search of surplus expedition supplies. Some of the fallen will have dropped things you can carry, rucksacks, bottles, packs of non-perishable food. You stoop to examine a little dropped parcel of meat jerky before hearing footsteps behind you and turning around. Salithra. She seems as surprised to see you, so she can't have been following you.

Still, though, she hands you a gift. “Water. It's safe.”

You look at her, and it, for a long while. The bottle glistens unsuspiciously. You finally take it, shoving it into your rucksack.

You guess, in your journey, you'll need to drink eventually.

“Looking for expedition supplies,” you decide to tell her. She nods as though this is neither strange nor unexpected.

You search a little longer before joining her on your way back to the Bastion. As you do, you take a mental tally. This must be one of your last few journeys back; the number must be dwindling by now. You can't quantify how many journeys back and forth you have left, but you guess that, by the time the number dwindles down to one, you'll know.

Salithra stops. You almost crash into her. You give her a moment to say what she's spotted, then swivel around on the spot, drawing your sabre. You see nothing of note. Salithra's expression is indescribable. Goosebumps rise on your arms.

She turns to you.

“What is–” you begin.

“It was Devin.” Her voice is strong, collected, certain, terrible, terrible. “Not Verity.”

“He collected that contaminated bottle on purpose.”

{[]}