It was bitterly cold, Colton’s every breath trailed after him in pale puffs of smoke. The glazed snow crackled underfoot, and he walked on in a state of raw awareness that seemed to transform the whole of his being into something electrified. Each step brought about a moment when all the disparate shards of his life seemed to knit themselves together, every gnawing fear and all consuming anxiety, every drop of sorrow and dredge of guilt, hidden now beneath the soft white layers of snow, it was cathartic in the barest sense of the word.
A dozen meandering snowflakes fell, they drifted about the air like thrums, listless in their descent. It felt as if color had gone from the world. Shapes, sounds, the charged energy of the woods, were muffled in the dull white that covered both earth and sky. No rays of sunlight broke through the thicket of grey clouds overhead, but the light reflected off the white scenery all the same, making his eyes water and burn. All there was, was Colt, the ache of the cold, and the consuming heat of his body as he trudged through the wilderness.
There was something beautiful in the absence of color that clung to the woods now, the early morning weight of grey and white holding to every surface, as if the snowfall had winnowed it down to the essence of what a forest truly ought to be. Colton had never experienced a winter quite like this, not with the snow that went up well past his ankles, crunching beneath his weight with every step. He could recall a family vacation, only once, in which he’d thrown snowballs with his brothers, and the sound of their joyous laughter echoed in his ears, reverberating in the stillness of woods that felt ethereal.
He pulled his hands from his pockets, flexing the muscles of his fingers and feeling the flush of warmth return to them. It didn’t seem to matter how cold it was outside, he ran warm and so the bite of chill that curled around his cheeks left his skin flushed, but not uncomfortable. He’d been walking for quite a bit now, the journey up to this point feeling rougher compared to his hike, but it was nearing three miles and Colt felt if he didn’t find this Camp Athen’s soon, he wouldn’t find it at all. He patted the front pocket of his jeans, feeling the weight of the letter for the hundredth time, reminding himself that he hadn’t lost his marbles and imagined the whole thing in some twisted psychotic break. It had been real, as real as the fire that had rolled off his skin not hungerily, but almost…lovingly.
He shuddered at the memory, shoving his hands back into his pockets despite not necessarily needing to conserve warmth but taking comfort from the action. He didn’t feel like himself, not since the fire, the fear that was like a form of vertigo that made him shake afterwards just wasn’t there anymore. It was like Colt had been baptized in the flames and made anew, the moment he’d taken every step afterwards had burned away his fears. They were still there, haunting the edges of his mind like ghosts in the night, but for the first time in quite possibly his whole life, Colton could think past the fear.
He paused, glancing down at the imprint of where his foot sunk into the powder, eyes trailing up and along the path he was taking with a sense of fascination. There were no marks ahead of him, not from a wild dog nor bird, if anyone else had come to the camp this morning they’d gone a different way. He continued through the soft, silent snow, a feeling of peace starting to radiate through him, helping make his next steps lighter and easier. In due time, after what was about an hour and three miles, the gate emerged from the wilderness.
Colton paused, flummoxed at the sight of it. It… wasn’t what he’d been expecting, Camp Athen’s seemed more secure than any camp he’d ever seen or been to. A seed of apprehension unfurled in his stomach, anxiety blooming like flowers in spring, but he was able to push it aside with a surprising amount of ease, wandering closer to the entrance with pursed lips. His eyes caught on the words biometric scanner and it drew a surprised laugh from his chapped lips. He swiped his thumb over the scanner, clearing away the frosting of snow that had settled on the slope, and shook his head in mute amazement when the gate clicked open in response. The idea that they had his thumb print made him just about as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, but he’d come all this way and it couldn’t be for nothing.
Colt stepped through the gate, taking care to close it behind him, before he began to move through the camp. There were paths here, distinguished by worn snow and frozen over mud, the imprints of others boots from likely the night before leading him through what felt like the heart of the camp, past a few cabins. All was still and quiet in the early morning hours, and while he hadn’t been expecting a welcoming committee… he’d expected something.
Sloane rose with the sun like she had every day since Pandora’s box. She actually slept better the night before, getting nearly three hours before the tossing and turning started, inevitably settling for lying in the dark and snuggling Rocco until the rays of sunlight crept through the slits in her blinds. Most of her time in the silence had been spent replaying the past day over and over in her mind. She had barely spoken to anyone since Liam left, barely let herself be caught outside her cabin in months, opting to live in quiet isolation rather than allowing herself to grow close to anyone again. It wasn’t something she could avoid forever, especially not when the Gods had plans of their own. Camp, practically a ghost town, doubled in size within a matter of hours. Statistically it was unlikely she could remain invisible, yet the whirlwind of it all still caught her off guard and left her social battery depleted after a night alone.
Not that it was all bad, on the contrary most of the people she talked to were kind and unobtrusive. But then there was Ace… Of course, he was the one that festered in her mind compared to everything else. He looked like a walking red flag, which should have been her first warning, but he was deceptively kind and made her laugh, and not in that self deprecating or placating sort of way, but a true genuine laugh. Sloane couldn’t even recall the last time that happened. There was a part of her that was thankful his true colors were exposed sooner rather than later, but it didn’t change how ridiculous she felt for letting her guard down around him.
Duke’s words just kept circling in her mind like an omen. But if that’s your type… Gods, for someone who knew little to nothing about her, he seemed to hit the nail on the head. Maybe that was her problem. She was attracted to lost causes or people more fucked up than she was because it actually made her feel normal. A sardonic laugh filled the silence of her cabin and roused Rocco who was nestled in the pillows beside her.
"For fuck’s sake," she muttered under her breath and threw her blankets off of her. Rather than fall deeper into the dark spiral of her thoughts, Sloane forced herself out of bed. The silver lining to never sleeping was she could often traverse camp without the risk of running into anyone else. It was the only way she managed to avoid people as long as she had, eating on off hours, being a recluse, and the relative seclusion of her cabin made it easier to remain anonymous.
She pulled on the warmest and most unassuming clothing she could find. Sloane didn’t have these new campers’ schedules memorized like she did with the others and the more likely she could remain invisible, the better. Casual wasn’t really something she had in abundance in her wardrobe, but it would draw less attention than a skirt and there was still the whole new leader thing to take into account. Something tugged at her gut telling her to dress practically, so at that point it was really a two birds one stone type situation. By the time she finished lacing her boots, Rocco was awake, wired, and ready to set out on their morning walk for breakfast. Sloane glanced over at the clock, groaning at the realization it was barely seven in the morning before grabbing her scarf and jacket, then heading out.
Camp was silent like it was asleep after a late night of revelry and celebration. There was no distant chatter, no hum of music drifting along the breeze from the field, and the freak warmth that let people like Blair dress like strippers had disappeared with the new year. A new day and everything was back to normal. The air was frigid, nipping at her cheeks whenever it whipped by, snow fell soft and consistent as it blanketed the camp in white clouds, and the lull of the lake’s tide vanished beneath a layer of ice. Rocco was happy at the return of snow, jumping and bouncing around to try and catch every white flake that fell threateningly near his face. Having learned her lesson from the day before, Sloane didn’t attempt to throw any snowballs, hoping to avoid a repeat incident. But deeper down, there was a fraction of her that was soured by the whole memory of it… Fucking men.
Rocco bounded up the trail, running ahead of her past the stables and out into the openness of the field. Where there once was an ice rink, sledding hill, bar and whatever other party attractions, now was the familiar empty and undisturbed white blanket of snow. Every shred of evidence that a new year’s celebration had been there the night before vanished with the rising sun like a drunken fever dream. There was a moment where she couldn’t help but wonder if it happened at all. The party, the new campers, Ace? Was it all the result of months of exhaustion catching up to her in a singular messed up dream?
As if the Gods themselves needed to give her a reality check, Rocco barked and snapped Sloane out of her wandering thoughts. Across the opposite side of the field someone was walking up the trail from the main entrance and her dog was bolting straight for him.
"Rocco!"
Ah. There was the welcoming party. It was funny, a few months ago the sight of a dog running full speed at him, barking its head off, would have been enough to give Colton heart palpitations. It was like the fire opened his eyes for the first time, fear raged in the back of his mind but he could ignore it in a way he never had before. He could clearly see the excitement in the dog's face, the barks boarding on playful rather than malicious, and so he kneeled down in the snow, grinning in greeting.
It may have been a little naive for him, because even though the dog was young and not big, balanced the way Colt was when the pup barreled into his chest he fell back with a surprised laugh, throwing one hand back to catch himself. The snow beneath his palm grew wet, hand sinking down until he could feel the cool and rough earth against his skin. "Hey buddy," his other hand rubbed along the dog's neck, turning his face to the side just in time to avoid french kissing the very enthusiastic animal. "You’re a good boy, aren’t ya?"
Colton adjusted his awkward position as the dog barked, rather enthusiastic, right in his face, shifting to properly kneel in the snow. Moisture seeped into the fabric of his jeans, darkening the denim, but he didn’t mind all that much. He glanced up, catching sight of the woman headed toward them, and offered a lopsided smile. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, but Colt’s smile seemed to light up his whole face like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Mornin’, ma’am." his southern accent was on the thicker side, not hard to understand but prevalent in his tone. "I take it this rascal belongs to you?"
Sloane’s approach slowed as she watched Rocco knock the man over in excitement. Her face scrunched in a grimace while she rubbed her forehead awkwardly. It was becoming quickly apparent that Rocco’s training wasn’t as sound as she thought it was. Something for her to do in her downtime hiding away from the plethora of new demigods that kept flooding into camp. Her soft sigh was muted by the crunch of snow beneath her boots and the ecstatic barking from her dog making another friend. "I’m sorry. He’s usually better behaved than this." She waved her hand vaguely over her shoulder. "I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up this early after the party," she admitted, as if it made any of it better.
Her gaze was fixated on the tips of her fingers as she toyed at the cuff of her winter coat, but when she heard him call her ma’am in a distinctly southern drawl, she looked up and finally met his gaze. "I… yes. This is Rocco," Sloane conceded with a sigh and a faint smile. The Gods really were cruel. As if she wasn’t already acutely aware of how every person that set foot into camp was unreasonably attractive, fate felt the necessity to throw five of them at her within 24 hours when she hardly had a handful of five minute conversations for months. Duke might have been her fault, but the rest? Sloane was probably the worst person to be on a welcoming committee, yet there she was… again.
She took a small step forward and held out her hand in a silent offering to help him back on his feet. By the looks of him compared to her, Sloane doubted she’d be much help and stood the chance of just getting pulled down in the snow beside him, but she still felt bad… And it was her fault—well, her dog’s fault. "Sorry," she apologized again, feeling like once wasn’t sufficient enough.
"No need to apologize," Colton took her offered hand, because there was no reason to turn down a kind gesture, but he used the strength in his legs to straighten up, only relying a little on her offer so as to not tug her down onto the ground with him. The unnatural heat of his hand cut through the chill that had settled in her own, calloused fingers gentle where they curled around her wrist. His eyes caught hers for the first time, properly, his tongue seemed to stick to the top of his mouth for a moment. Instinctively, he bowed his head, sliding his hand from hers until just the tips of her fingers were still caught in his hold, tilting her hand and raising it up so the backs of her knuckles faced his lips. Colt didn’t kiss them, it would be awfully presumptuous of him, but the gesture and its meaning was clear. "Colton Shepherd, pleasure to meet you and Rocco."
Sloane’s gaze fell to their joined hands, thrown off by the heat that radiated from his palm into her own chilled skin. It didn’t go unnoticed that she did virtually nothing to actually help him up besides maybe helping him steady himself, but she tried nonetheless. She went to withdraw her hand from his but instead he adjusted his hold like he intended to kiss her fingers. He stopped a bit shy, although he still bowed his head. The entire gesture threw her through a loop to the point where she stumbled faintly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Thankfully the cold wind made her face about as pink as they could manage, so if there was a subtle blush that tinged her cheeks, it’d be imperceivable. When was the last time someone introduced themselves to her like that? Her debutant ball?
Realizing she had been quiet for far too long, she cleared her throat, and gave his hand an awkward shake. "Sloane Astor. Nice to meet you too."
His smile was disarmingly unguarded as he dropped her hand, taking a half step away to keep a more respectable distance between the two of them as her dog pounced between them, tail wagging and tongue lulling from his mouth. "I reckon you aren’t actually the welcoming committee," he lifted a hand, rubbing at the back of his neck with a tinge of embarrassment. That would be a more southern thing, he supposed. "I don’t want to sound crazy, but…" Was there any good way to say it? It would sound crazy no matter how Colton phrased it. "Is all of this—" he lifted a hand, swirling his pointer finger up into the air. "...Real?" He raised his eyebrows, shifting the bag hanging from his left shoulder with his free hand.
"Rocco." Sloane’s voice was soft but commanding as she snapped her fingers together to get the puppy’s attention. He immediately turned to look at her with a cocked head and one ear inside out from his excitement. She pointed her finger at the ground beside her as she spoke. "Sit." Her dog heeded her direction, plopping his butt in the snow beside her while his wagging tail stirred up a cloud of snow behind him.
Sloane turned her attention back to Colton, tilting her head up slightly to meet his gaze. It was hard not to match his grin when it had that infectious optimism she was never quite able to understand. Her own smile was smaller and far more timid, only tugging at the corner of her mouth slightly. "No," she admitted, dragging the word out as she pressed her thumb into the palm of her opposite hand. "I don’t know if I’m the best choice at the whole orientation thing. I like avoiding the crowd." And people. And she couldn’t sleep. She shrugged her shoulders in that silently apologetic way that said this was about as good of a welcoming committee as he’d get.
Her gaze shifted toward his hand, watching the subtle gesture before looking back up at him. "I… think so?" Sloane cocked her head to the side slightly as an awkward laugh fell from her lips in a visible puff of cold air. "I can pinch you if that’d help." She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder toward the sleepy, snow covered hell that was camp. "It is a demigod camp," she added with a sigh as she looked back up at the tall blond. "So… If you’re not a demigod I might have to help you forget you were here." There was a jovial air to her words considering she assumed he had to be a demigod to make it through Andy’s new security protocols and was standing in front of her… She hoped. The last thing she wanted was to erase an innocent man’s memories because he happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Well," a slow breath escaped him, watching it puff into the air, and letting his head fall back so he could look up at the clouds. The sun was struggling to break through the thicket, and a fat snow flake landed right between Colt’s eyes. "I’ll be damned." His voice was very soft, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, or hoped, but… there was a small part of him that had held onto the idea that it wasn’t true and that he could go back to whatever sense of normality he could hold on to, but no.
Colton glanced back down at Sloane, and though his smile had slipped by a fraction it was still there, tugging at his lips and keeping his eyes bright. "I had hoped I was hallucinating," he admitted this with a tinge of embarrassment, glancing back down at Rocco and narrowly resisting the urge to reach out and pet the puppy again. "I met my… father, and he gave me a letter with directions to this camp, it said he was Hephaestus." The name rolled clumsily off of his tongue, Greek and southern mixing with all the elegance of oil and water.
"I think everyone has that reaction initially," she admitted with a shrug before tucking her chin beneath the brim of her scarf to break some of the biting wind. Sloane knew her circumstances weren’t the norm and that she had far more time with her mother than most, not that she was particularly fond of it. But either way, it was never easy having your world turned on its head like that. Greek Gods were myths… until they weren’t. "If it’s any consolation, I think you have one of the better ones." Sloane idly kicked a small bit of snow before looking back up into his eyes with a halfhearted smile. "Parent, I mean. And your half brother is one of the good ones too." Duke was one of the few people at camp that felt like a genuinely decent person. There were far worse people to be related to… She knew that struggle all too well.
Sloane’s brows raised slightly at the way he kept looking down at Rocco. Her smile shifted to something a bit softer, more genuine and less forced as she stepped to the side. It might have been a bit cliche, but anyone who showed her dog kindness and affection immediately gained a small soft spot in her heart. It might have been what got her into her whole predicament with Ace, but it wasn’t fair for her to withhold attention from Rocco. She could only give so much. "You can play with him," she commented, nodding her head down at the eager pup as she slid her hands into her coat pockets. "He likes snowballs, and if you rub his belly he’ll never leave you alone again," she added with a quiet laugh.
"Really? He seemed…" Colt let the thought trail off, because really, his father had seemed like a God. That was it, they had their own flare of arrogance that was justified in its own way, he supposed, but he knew fuck all about Greek mythology. "Well, he only mentioned a sister in any case," he offered his own shrug, eyebrows raising just a little when she stepped aside, and then his entire face seemed to light up like a child who had been told they could buy whatever they wanted in a candy shop. "It would be impolite to keep a pretty lady out in this sort of weather." Colton said, instead of moving to play with the puppy like he really wanted to.
"Were you headed anywhere in particular?" He, very pointedly, did not ask Sloane who her Godly parent was, it felt like something more personal, though considering the fact that Colt was new to all of this, he wasn’t sure how sensitive people could be in regards to it all. It was better, in the end, to be polite and cautious.
"Well… He has to be better than the Goddess of Chaos," she shrugged her shoulders while pinching the fabric on the inside of her pockets. Sloane had never met Hephaestus, but she had to imagine most of the Gods had to be at least moderately better than Eris. It sort of felt self explanatory. "I don't know much about a sister. But a bunch of demigods arrived yesterday. You missed the party but…" Her voice trailed off for a second as she looked back over her shoulder toward the field that was teaming with festivities less than 12 hours before. "Well, I hate parties so you picked the better time to arrive in my opinion." She laughed softly and shrugged her shoulders innocently.
"Parties aren’t really my favorite rodeo either," he had grimaced just a little at the mention of a Goddess of Chaos, feeling more than a little out of his depth. If they needed machinery fixed, he was who you called. Anything to do with Greek God’s was utterly lost on him. "Do ya’ll have any books on…all of this," he gestured vaguely at the air around them. "I could read? I reckon I know about as much about all of this as a squirrel knows about the atmosphere."
"There isn't really a camp library." Her brows furrowed slightly as she tried to recall which books she actually had in her cabin. Mostly romance and fantasy if she remembered correctly, which wasn't very helpful. "I might have something you could borrow. If not, my mother made sure I was knowledgeable about Greek mythology, so I could help you fill the gaps," she offered. It wouldn't be much different than when she had to do the same for Sylas. Although she imagined Colton would be kinder and far more patient.
"I would appreciate it greatly," This was so far beyond any realm of possibilities for Colt that everything he knew about Greek mythology had been learned on Wikipedia, on the plane ride there, not that he’d admit that to someone who seemed smarter than him. He didn’t need to embarrass himself too badly on the first day.
Sloane was so focused on his elated expression at the prospect of playing with Rocco, that his comment almost went entirely unnoticed. It took her a solid couple of seconds for it to really sink in. Then her cheeks found some way to deepen its rosy tint beyond the wind burn that flushed her skin. She couldn't recall the last time someone complimented her and the way the words fell from his lips so effortlessly made it more difficult for her to know how to react. A hand slipped from her pocket to brush loose hairs out of her eyes and behind her ear. "It's ok. He could use the exercise and I won't turn into a popsicle for at least five more minutes." She did her best to meet his gaze and flash him a friendly smile despite her growing bashfulness. "I was just going to get breakfast before there's a crowd."
Colton seemed to perk up visibly at the mention of food, if he were a dog his ears would have gone straight into the air. "Five minutes then," he grinned at her, setting his bag down in the snow and leaning over to scoop up a handful of snow. "Then, if you’d be kind enough to show me where ya’ll eat breakfast, I’d be in your debt, Ms. Astor." The snow held its shape in his hands for exactly six seconds, and then the warmth turned it into a sort of loose slush. Colt frowned at the wet mess between his palms for a second, expression turning a little crestfallen as he realized snowball making may be beyond him now, and then his face lit back up and he turned toward his bag.
"Please, just call me Sloane," she commented quietly. While she was an Astor, and there was no changing that, the weight of her surname also carried the burden of her father and Sylas. It was a part of who she was, unfortunately, but it wasn't something she wished to be called on a regular basis.
He hesitated, hand curled around the edge of his bag, eyes flickering up toward Sloane. "Yes ma’am," Colton’s smile softened some, green eyes bright in the backdrop of white and grey against his cold flushed cheeks, the twang of his accent thick as the words rolled from his tongue. He paused for a moment longer, eyes tracing the delicate slope of her nose, noting how her dark hair stood out starkly against her pale skin. Blinking a few times, feeling a twinge of surprise coil in his chest, he turned away.
He unzipped the bag quickly, digging around in its recesses for a few short seconds, before he withdrew an orange colored baseball. "This’ll do the trick," Colton grinned at Rocco, holding the ball up and watching as the dog's attention zeroed in on it, tail wagging even harder in the snow. "Here ya go bud, catch." He gave it a strong throw, clearing fifty feet, and Rocco spun in the spot to give chase, barking with enthusiasm.
While Colton played with her dog, Sloane wandered over to the map stand Andy had conjured the day before. Her cold fingers struggled to pinch the folded paper, but after a try or two she got a decent enough grip. She slowly made her way back toward him, waiting until he threw the ball again before she held out the map to him. "You'll probably want this. I'm not sure how it works, but knowing the girl who made it, there’s probably some magic trick to it."
Rocco bounded across the snow, leaving pawprints and swirls of white in his wake as he barreled toward the ball, scooping it up into his mouth before turning around and running back toward Colt. The puppy slid a little in the snow once he got closer, clumsy in a way only young dogs could be, snow sticking to the fur of his backside as he righted himself and dropped the baseball at his feet. He couldn’t help letting out a small laugh at the sheer cuteness the puppy exuded, scooping up the ball and giving it another strong throw before he turned to the sound of Sloane’s voice. "Thank you," Colton accepted the map, warm fingers brushing against her cool ones, and his smile dimmed just a little as he looked the woman over, worry creasing his brows. "Ms. Sloane, your hands feel like icicles, shouldn’t we head somewhere warmer?" The concern was palpable in his voice, folding the map and sticking it in one of his back pockets, Colt held out both his hands toward her, wiggling his fingers expectantly when she just stared. "C’mon, give me your hands for a moment, they’ll be warmer before you could snap your fingers. I run warm, like a broken thermostat." He grinned wryly at her, his palms held up toward the sky patiently.
"Sloane," she corrected him again with a soft sigh. She appreciated how polite and respectful he was, but miss felt too formal… at least for someone like her. Sloane’s attention temporarily shifted toward Rocco as he chased after the ball a second time, before looking back toward the man in front of her. It was foreign to her, well all of it really, but specifically having someone else fuss over her wellbeing. Liam made a big deal about her brother but, that’s because Sylas is an asshole. The blatant concern over something as small as the chill in her fingers by someone who’s known her for the better part of five minutes left her a bit off kilter. "I’m Russian... I’m used to being cold," she commented under her breath as her gaze fell to his extended hands.
Her fingers extended and flexed at her side as a pensive expression tugged at her brows. It seemed fairly obvious that Colton meant nothing beyond being kind by the offered warmth, but it sent her mind reeling. She couldn’t help but think about her past and how gullible she had been around other men. Was it a kind gesture or some ploy to take advantage of her? Could she even tell the difference anymore? Between Ace and her conversation with Duke, Sloane was left on unsure footing, finding herself struggling to know what was genuine anymore. The cold air chilled her teeth as she sucked in a soft breath. Not wanting to be rude or prolong the growing awkward silence, the corner of her mouth tugged into an apprehensive smile as her hands hesitantly slid into his.
"Sloane, He conceded, pressing his lips together to refrain from chuckling at her comment. While he was sure that was true, she’d clearly been at the camp for some time, but she was also cold and this was something he could fix. Colton caught her hands between his own, fingers overlapping as he held her palms together and pressed his own over the tops of her hands. His hands were almost comedically large compared to Sloane’s, heat instantly seeping into her icy skin. "Just because you’re used to the cold, doesn’t mean I can’t help."
Sloane’s gaze met his briefly, before falling back to her hands swallowed up in the furnace of his palms. The roughness of his skin, evidence of years of manual labor, was contrasted by the fragile softness of her own. She had the hands of a pampered rich girl who never had to raise a finger for anything in her life. The juxtaposition caught her off guard, only reaffirming the stark image of her being a porcelain doll, displayed and hidden away rather than living. She cleared her throat, searching for something to fill the silence rather than spiral deeper into her thoughts. "Winter’s just started. I don’t think you can be there every time I’m cold," she jested with a quiet laugh, trying to ease some of the awkward tension that had tightened along her shoulders.
"I can’t," he admitted, but his smile didn’t dim. "But I am here now, and well…" Colt’s expression turned a little bashful, and he shifted his weight. "It’d be nice to say I had at least one friend here." He didn’t look at her when he admitted this, too shy and awkward to see her reaction.
She spared him a sideways glance, studying his face for deception but was surprised to find only authenticity… or from what she could tell. Sloane was struggling to trust her intuition but someone that was openly kind couldn't be that bad, could they? "I would warn you that I have a habit of attracting the wrong kind of people, but you sons of Hephaestus don't seem like the type to take my word for it," she mused, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, trying her best not to twiddle her fingers beneath his hands. "But… I am a little low in the friend department." The corners of her mouth curved into a small tight lipped smile and she shrugged her shoulders. She didn't know if she could say they were friends after barely a conversation but she wasn't going to turn away the prospect either.
Colton’s head tilted to the side in a way that was reminiscent of the puppy, looking politely perplexed. "What, like city folk?" His nose wrinkled slightly before he soothed out his expression, shifting to something verging on embarrassed once more. "Not that there’s anythin’ wrong with people that enjoy the city atmosphere, they just don’t do polite the same way as southern folks." He lifted a hand for a moment, rubbing at the back of his neck, ruffling the strands of blond hair there before he remembered he was trying to warm up her hands and quickly replaced it. "No offense, if you’re from New York or somethin’, I had my layover there and those people can be foul." he was rambling, like an idiot. "I uh…right, sorry, I’ve been a bit of a recluse for the last month, haven’t done much talkin’ so I know I’m making a right fool of myself."
Colt shook his head, grinning a little at how ridiculous he felt. He’d always struggled some with making friends, being naturally more reserved, more fearful, always weighing the worst case scenario, intentionally trying to make a friend that wasn’t an extrovert looking to adopt an introvert felt as foreign as all this Greek mythology. He found that he didn’t mind it too much, Sloane made it easy, at least, and a private part of him hoped everyone at the camp would be this kind.
Sloane laughed softly at his comment about ‘city folk’, not that he was entirely wrong. The only memories she had in regards to New Yorkers were fairly negative ones. There were several reasons she spent most of her time lost in libraries or locked away in her room. "Not exactly," she replied but didn’t elaborate further on her meaning. The last thing a fresh face like Colton needed was the pathetic story of woe that was her life. "I did live in New York for about half of my life. But it’s fine. I never really fit in, so there was no love lost coming here."
It was a blessing in this sort of weather to run so warm, because in just a few short seconds her own hands were growing hotter, pale skin flushing a little as he rubbed his calloused palms over her soft knuckles, every touch respectful in nature. Once her hands felt as warm as his own, he dropped his hold, smile brightening impossibly. "I reckon that’ll do for now, we best head inside somewhere warmer though, won’t last for long."
She nodded her head in surrender, quickly learning that Colton would keep insisting on getting her somewhere warm until she inevitably agreed. Sloane pivoted on her heels, looking back out over the field where Rocco happily ran back to them with the baseball in his mouth, tail wagging and ears flopping with every bounce. She whistled and motioned for him to come to her. He ran right over to her, plopped his butt down in the snow, and dropped the ball at her feet expectantly. "We’ll play later, bubba," she reassured him with a soft pat to his head before reaching down to pick up the ball, now covered in frozen slobber.
With the baseball clutched in her palm, Sloane pointed toward the Main Hall while looking back at Colton. "That’s where most people eat… Unless you cook in your cabin or whatever." She shrugged her shoulders and started heading in that direction at a leisurely pace. Rocco ran ahead of her, knowing it was breakfast time. He slipped up half of the stairs to the porch then sat and waited impatiently for her to catch up. As they walked, she did her best to clean off the ball, wiping it off on her jeans before holding it out to the man beside her. "Sorry… There might be teeth marks."
"He can keep it," he shrugged one shoulder, following along beside Sloane, lips twitching as Rocco slipped and slid up the stairs, taking extra care as he went up the steps to not slip and make a fool out of himself. "I doubt I’ll be playing catch with anyone else while I’m here." His eyes trailed across the main hall, taking it all in, before Colton paused to hold the door open for Sloane. "Do we hike out of camp to get our food?"
That seemed like an awful idea, at least during winter. He’d lived pretty rural on the farm, but they always had their truck to get to town for shopping, so this was… different. It was an experience at the very least, not a bad one, but so far out of the norm for Colton that the very thought of it felt pretty bizarre.
Sloane looked down at the neon ball in her palm, rapping the tips of her fingers along its blemished surface before slipping it into the pocket of her coat. "I don’t know. There are plenty of athletic people here… Just not me," she replied with a laugh as she carefully ascended the slippery stairs, making sure to hold onto the railing so she didn’t have a repeat of the night before. Even with her caution she still managed to slide a bit along the deck before finding traction.
When Colton opened the door for her, she first ushered in Rocco, then followed after, flashing him a soft smile of silent thanks as she passed. Her dog immediately made his way over to Sloane’s favorite table that was closest to the hearth and sat down like he had been trained to. "I don’t know," she began answering Colton’s question as she weaved around tables and chairs to the far side of the cafeteria. "My cabin doesn’t even have a kitchen," she admitted with a small shrug. "But I’ve never really noticed anyone wandering in or out of camp with arms full of groceries… So I imagine some sort of camp magic fuckery plays a part."
As Sloane approached the table, she pulled off her coat and hung it on the back of her usual seat, along with her scarf. She was left in a comically oversized sweatshirt, old jeans, and boots that were far out of the realm of her normal attire. Before camp she wouldn't have been caught dead in something that casual and still she rarely did, but waking up to take care of a puppy in the middle of winter had a way of lowering her standards a bit. She crouched down to give Rocco a kiss to the head and rub his ears. "Good boy. Stay." She gave him another little scratch, waiting for Colton to discard his belongings.
"Magic," Colt whispered the word, his face a little slack with awe, remembering the stories his Ma had told him about his childhood. It was a bittersweet feeling, remembering how his brother's laughter had echoed down the halls at her animated story telling. "When I was younger," his voice was softer as he followed Sloane, gaze a little distant, smile small but present. "After my folks first adopted me, I kept burnin’ handprints into my crib. My Pa called their priest to the farm, tried to exercise the demon outta me, they were all pretty stumped." He placed his bag carefully onto the floor, making sure it was neatly tucked out of the way, before tugging off his jacket and laying out onto the back of the chair across from Sloane’s. "Magic is a foreign concept to me."
Sloane’s brows furrowed as she pivoted on the balls of her feet, still crouched, to look up at him genuinely surprised that anything like that actually happened outside of movies. She wasn’t able to hide the bewildered grimace that crossed her face as she searched his face like she was waiting for the punchline. "Christians," she muttered under her breath before slowly standing up. "That’s… cruel." She couldn’t begin to understand or empathize with something like that. Her abilities weren’t tangible like flames and fire, but an exorcism? The thought sent a cold chill down her spine and made the hair stand on the back of her neck.
"I don’t remember it," his smile was a little wobbly, because it was clear that a reaction like that was extreme and not good, and he’d always struggled to hold onto the same faith the rest of his family clung to. "It is cruel, though, southerners have charm, but they also have… religion." Colt grimaced.
"I don’t know what’s worse, southern charm and religion, or Russian anger and politics," she mused with a weak, but sympathetic smile. Sloane wasn’t trying to dismiss what he had been through, but find some shared common ground when it came to not quite fitting the mold of where they came from. "I suppose it’s probably best if you don’t remember." She rested her hand on top of her coat on the back of the chair as a question bounced around her head in regards to his parents and their faith. She knew it wasn’t her business, but curiosity beat out her caution. "Do they know the truth? Your parents?"
"No, I…" his eyes trailed down to where his jacket rested along the ridge of the chair, small dots of moisture collected along the shoulders and collar from where snow flurries had landed and subsequently melted, darkening the fabric further. "I left a note for them, said I needed time after the—" Colton froze for a split second, just long enough for a brief and fleeting expression of pain and guilt to flicker over his face, there and gone as fast as a channel on a TV being changed. "The funeral. I figured mentioning Greek gods would make them think I lost my marbles fully." The joke fell flat, and Colt looked anywhere but at Sloane, it had just slipped, but now he felt too vulnerable with someone whom he’d only just met. He’d never been one to share his own issues so blatantly, it was easier to be the steadying rock for others, than to accept the support yourself. "It wasn’t a lie, I don’t like lyin’, and I do need time, but there’s no good way to break this sort of news in a note."
Sloane listened intently, studying his face while he looked anywhere but her. The mention of a funeral stuck out compared to the rest of his words and while the temptation was there, at the edge of her mind, begging to be asked… She remained quiet. Her and Colton barely knew each other, it wouldn’t be fair to press him with more personal questions. She nodded her head in silent understanding. "There’s no textbook when it comes to being a demigod. I’ve never told anyone normal about it… sort of kept it to myself." Sloane never really had to consider breaking the news to anyone. Her father already knew about Eris. And Lochlan? She was never able to bring herself to tell him out of a similar fear that Colton had in regards to telling his parents.
Slowly, the tension that had collected in his shoulders drained, a quiet breath leaving him. He was thankful, and knew in that exact moment that a friendship with Sloane would be something he’d want. She was kind, and quiet, and she was the sort of person he’d want around himself, especially as everything he thought he knew became as unsteady as a ship in a storm. The entire journey to camp had left Colt feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, but something about her quieted those discontent thoughts and allowed him to breathe fully for the first time. "Maybe we ought to write a text book on it," a wiry smile tugged at his lips, face lighting up again. "Or maybe just a pamphlet, like the sort they keep on a shelf in the doctor's office for pre-teen’s." Mirth sparked in his eyes at the idea, smile tugging up further until he was grinning at her.
She laughed softly. "Demigods for dummies." Her fingers idly tugged at the cuffs of her sweatshirt as she shook her head playfully and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Maybe if you took someone with you to tell them… Like—Oh, I don’t know—maybe a Poseidon or Hecate kid. You know, someone with tangible powers to kind of back you up?" Sloane raised her brows while considering the options, but the weight of his parents being Christians sapped some of her initial inspiration and dulled the faint light behind her eyes. "Right... The whole faith thing makes it complicated." The corner of her mouth curved into a lopsided, sympathetic smile as her gaze fell to Rocco who sat patiently at her feet. She didn’t have the first clue how she’d break the news to someone and not sound crazy. Maybe that was why people like them remained hidden away on some mountaintop in Greece rather than facing the regular, mortal world.
"Poseidon, Hecate…" Colton tapped his chin with his left pointer finger, whispering the names as if to dedicate them to memory. It was a sweet thought, the idea that she was trying to find a solution so he could have his family in his life on a more stable level. "I reckon they’d believe me, after some time." He offered a sort of uncomfortable shrug, hand dropping down to his side. "Walking through fire and not having any burns afterwards makes everyone question… everything, I suppose. Is… is it polite to ask you who your parent is?" His brows furrowed, head tilting ever so slightly to the side as he blinked down at her, not wanting to come across as rude.
"Oh, people at camp usually ask that right off the rip, either because they’re nosy or want to make sure they don’t sleep with their sibling." Sloane’s mouth pulled into a grimace as she shrugged her shoulders. If the party last night was proof enough, most demigods seemed to be pretty horny. She could only hope they had the forethought to cross reference family trees before following in their parents’ footsteps. "My mother is Eris." There was a momentary pause where she quickly remembered Colton’s lack of knowledge when it came to mythology. "The Goddess of chaos and discord. Not a common household name like Zeus or Aphrodite."
Colton blinked a little owlishly at Sloane for a moment, surprise and confusion crossing his face for a split second before he wrestled the expression under control. "I suppose that makes sense, an accident like that would be…" he shuddered a little, appetite waning for a second at the mere idea of accidentally sleeping with one of his sisters. Disgusting. "Eris," he nodded, committing the name to memory. He’d heard of Zeus and Aphrodite before, mostly in passing, but never Eris before. Sloane didn’t seem to fit that bill, but he wasn’t sure how often a child of one of the Gods was similar to them. "So… Do you like rodeo’s? I can’t think of anything more chaotic, other than maybe tax season." He grinned at her, expression open and earnest.
Sloane laughed. It was quiet but genuine and showed a fraction of her bewilderment. She was probably the farthest thing from southern or country, maybe aside from like Blair. Sure, she handled the adjustment of going from New York to camp better than most, but she was still very aware of the privileged life she had before moving across the world to Greece. Her father would rather be caught dead than send his children to something like a rodeo. "Can’t say I do. The farthest south I’ve ever been is DC. But the New York subways were more than chaotic enough for my liking." She usually took taxis around the city, but there were a handful of times she had to navigate the subway system, and she hated every minute of it. Apparently she looked like a prime victim for some of the seedier types. She was lucky to be a demigod in those moments, or for her brother’s cruelty, or it might have gone a lot worse for her.
"I’ve never been to the city," he offered, bracing his hands on the back of his chair, smile a little lopsided. It was clear they’d come from vastly different walks of life, and yet they both still ended up here. It made Colt wonder how different the other campers were. It felt foreign to him to be excited at meeting new people, he’d always been more introverted, but without fear swelling in his chest like a balloon with too much air to feed it’s growth the prospect wasn’t as overwhelming as it usually was. "Rodeo’s were weekend outings for my family, I only went to… two, I think." He pushed off the chair, scuffing his shoe against the floor as embarrassment made color flush the back of his neck. Colt clenched his jaw for a moment, muscles tensing, before he let out a small breath as the tension drained from his shoulders again. "I was scared." It was posed as a joke, but the shame in his tone was startlingly clear.
Her brows furrowed slightly, not because of the confession, but because of the way he seemed ashamed of it. Sloane tugged the sleeve of her sweatshirt over the heel of her palm. "Everyone’s scared of something." She shrugged her shoulders like it was no more embarrassing or shameful than admitting a favorite color. There was a second where she parted her lips to offer up her own fear in exchange, but like a tether pulling taut, the words couldn’t break free. It was hard to admit to herself that she was terrified of her brother, let alone to a person she just met. She quickly searched her mind for another answer, but everything else felt significantly less consequential in retrospect.
Before she could find a better answer like spiders or snakes or the dark, the P.A. speaker in the cafeteria chimed, followed by the sound of an unfamiliar voice filling the empty room. "Good morning campers. This is your new leader, River, speaking. It is currently 7:30 a.m. on January 1st. Your first training will begin in one hour at 8:30 a.m. in the arena. Please arrive promptly and dress accordingly."
"New leader?" Colton’s eyebrows rose, gaze moving from where it had reflexively fixed on the speaker back toward Sloane, expression flummoxed. He hadn’t been sure what exactly to expect at the camp, but he hadn’t been expecting to feel like… "Did I accidentally sign up for a boot camp?" He grinned at her, a laugh catching in his throat. "I knew it wouldn’t be a normal camp, but I wasn’t expecting for us to have a leader and trainin’." The unspoken is this normal? floated in the air between them, unspoken but present all the same. He glanced toward his bag, trying to think if he had anything that qualified as dressing accordingly for physical training that didn’t involve basketball shorts, and with this weather that didn’t seem exactly smart.
"We’ve had two—no, three different leaders since I came to camp at the beginning of the summer. Although the last one stepped up out of necessity rather than being appointed," Sloane clarified as if the matter of having so many leaders in a short amount of time was a comfort. She doubted it was. "Training has been moderate but the Gods left a message for us yesterday about this new leader and a new ’rigorous training regimen.’" She shrugged her shoulders, not really having any information beyond that. She wasn’t keen on the prospect of camp taking a turn towards ROTC rather than whatever it was before. But considering three people died during the whole Pandora’s box fiasco, it only made sense that the Gods wanted them trained harder, to be more prepared.
"Training regimen," He parroted the words back, shaking his head slowly. Just what had he gotten himself mixed up in? It was startling and refreshing for no wave of fear to rise up in his chest, the usual strength it heralded akin to a tsunami, but there was also an edge to it all. It felt as if he were waiting for the other shoe to drop. "Well," Colton chuckled more to himself than anything. "It’s not like I was doin’ anything better."
A weak laugh slipped out as Sloane shrugged in a pathetic sort of acceptance. She didn’t like training but had grown to accept it in her time at camp. "I’m sure you’ll do fine," she commented, motioning a hand toward him, as if his muscles and general stature weren’t obvious indicators.
"Maybe, this is all from work, not workin’ out." He pushed off the back of his chair, nodding toward the buffet. "I suppose we ought to get hustling if we have trainin’ in an hour, not sure what I have that I could wear."
Sloane nodded her head. "I’m probably not the best person to ask about training advice." An awkward laugh mixed with a sigh escaped her lips as she took a step toward the buffet on the opposite end of the hall. "Something you can move quickly in is probably your safest bet."
She cleared her throat and motioned her hand generally at the various tables of food that lined the far side of the cafeteria as they approached. "There’s always fresh food here. So this is where I’ve always eaten. It’s also a good place to run into people… If you’re into that sort of thing." The shift in her tone subtly showed that she was not into that sort of socialization… as if going out of her way to get there before everyone else wasn’t already an indicator. While Colton started gathering his own food, she detoured over to the hidden corner where she could usually find Rocco’s water and food bowls. To her surprise, there was a second set of brand new dog bowls, filled, ready, and waiting. She paused for a moment at the realization that one of the new campers must have a dog too. The thought of Rocco maybe having another animal to play with made her smile slightly as she grabbed his bowls in either hand and made her way back toward the table.
Colt nodded his head, pausing for a moment longer before he headed to fix himself a plate. There was a slight chill in the air, though it was exceptionally warmer inside than outside, he could still feel the bite of cold through the thin cotton of his white t-shirt. For the first time in his life, it felt like a blessing that he ran warmer than the average person, even if it often felt like he was one second away from combusting like a badly wired bomb. The wiry muscles in his arms, evidence of years of hard labor on a farm, flexed as he pushed the chair all the way in, pivoting to trail after Sloane towards the buffet, eyes widening some at the spread of food. "Well, I’ll be damned." He scooped up a plate, hesitating in a moment of pure indecisiveness at where to start. Eggs seemed safe, and then some bacon, a decent helping of raspberries and blackberries, and two slices of toast. He carried his plate back over, collecting silverware and napkins for both of them, setting Sloane’s down on her side of the table, before he turned toward where several pitchers and coffee pots took up space. "Would you like anything to drink?" Colt glanced toward her, bright smile lighting up his face once more.
Sloane set down the food and water bowls for Rocco who promptly went to town, like he hadn’t eaten in over a week. She couldn’t help but chuckle. Dogs were so dramatic. Turning back around and heading toward the buffet, she brushed past Colton as he returned with a full plate of food. "Sorry," she apologized, stepping aside and accidentally bumping her hip into a neighboring table. "Jesus," she muttered under her breath to herself, embarrassed at her own clumsiness.
Like muscle memory, Sloane moved around the buffet area with a habitual effortlessness. First she grabbed a plate and then a bowl. She filled the bowl with oatmeal topped with blueberries and set it on top of the plate, where she also placed two links of sausages. That day though, for whatever reason, she decided to deviate slightly and also grab a chocolate chip muffin. After the night she had, she felt like a little treat was warranted. She turned around to head toward the drinks, but was met by Colton smiling back at her. His continuous and almost unwavering radiance caught her off guard. It felt out of place, like he was a golden retriever in the middle of the cluster fuck that was camp. There was a faint pang of guilt that knotted in her chest knowing that it was only a matter of time before camp dampened his spirits. Someone that kind deserved to be somewhere, anywhere better.
Sloane did her best to match his smile, although hers could never match his brightness. It was weak and laced with a subtle melancholy air that tinged everything she did, but no less genuine. She was trying anyway. "Orange juice… please," she replied sheepishly before making her way back over to the table and taking a seat.
He noticed, as someone who lived in a near constant state of fear every day, always over analyzing how each and every scenario could go horrifically wrong, he was observant enough to see how her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t that Sloane wasn’t genuine, she was nice enough to not just ditch him at the very least, but it was almost like she was Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh with a vindictively diligent storm cloud chasing her down. She tried to hide it, that was abundantly clear, but the subtle flex of her jaw, the way her eyes would flick away from his own gaze with the lightest hint of guilt, as if she felt bad for not being able to match his energy.
There wasn’t much he could do about it, besides remain as positive as he could, besides Colton was horribly low in the friend department and she’d agreed they could try to be friends. He wouldn’t complain if Sloane was just a little sad, it made the rare smiles feel more rewarding. So, he returned with two cups of orange juice, smiling as bright as he could manage whilst focusing on balancing the cups without any of the liquid sloshing over the edges. "Here we go." he set hers down first, then his own, before pulling out his chair to sit. Colt hesitated for a moment, glancing from his plate of food up to Sloane. "We don’t have to like… pray to our parents or somethin’, right?" He was only half joking.
Sloane had already scooped a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth when his comment caught her off guard. She snorted through her nose, covering her mouth with her hand as she desperately tried not to spit the food back out. It took a great deal of determination and willpower to refrain from laughing before she made a mess on either one of them. She coughed and took a sip of juice. "No." She coughed again mixed with a soft chuckle. "Well…" Her head cocked to the side in thought. "I never really considered it but I haven’t been smited. So I think we’re ok."
Colton ducked his head a little, a shy grin tugging at his chapped lips. “Well, it can't hurt, I s’pose.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then laced his fingers together on the edge of the table, eyes flicking briefly toward the ceiling, or maybe skyward beyond it, before he shut them. “Uh, hey… Dad,” he started, voice low and a touch awkward. He tried to think back on all the prayers his adopted father had led them through before dinner, but Colt had been blocking it out for years. The words felt heavy and stiff on his tongue, unfamiliar. “Thanks for the food, and the company, and directions to the camp? I reckon I would have gotten lost otherwise.” His lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ll try not to embarrass the family name too bad.”
He opened one eye to peek at Sloane, half expecting her to laugh, then finished softly, “Guess that’s it. Amen—or, uh, however you like it.” He cleared his throat, picked up his fork, and nodded toward her food with a sheepish smile. “Alright. Now that I feel like a moron, we can eat proper.”
Sloane’s head cocked to the side, watching him in a stunned silence. Her expression was a mixture of amusement, half wondering if it was a joke or some ploy to make her laugh, and bewilderment at the act of piety. Maybe it was just her who didn’t pray? She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like she ate around others often or creeped on people to observe their nighttime routines. The thought of Colton kneeling beside his bed and praying to Hephaestus painted a comical image. It was obvious he cared about his father’s opinion or how he presented himself as a tangential part of the God. While people at camp were rarely thought of separately from their parents, she could’t say she was ever overly bothered about how her actions rippled back to Eris. But perhaps it was different when her mother was the Goddess of chaos versus blacksmiths.
"If it brings you peace…" She shrugged her shoulders while pushing around a stray blueberry across the top of her oatmeal with her spoon, but didn’t meet his gaze. "But I won’t be praying to my mother," Sloane added quietly before scooping a bite of food in a subtle way that subconsciously put the topic to rest. That wasn’t a can of worms she was willing to open up.
Colton chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm, like gravel shifting in the sun. He set his fork down for a second, giving Sloane a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It wasn’t because it wasn't genuine, rather there was something about what she’d said that resonated deeply with him. "Yeah, I get that," he murmured after a pause, voice easy but edged with thoughtfulness. He leaned back in his chair, thumb tracing the rim of his plate. "Back home, my ma and pa—they prayed every night like clockwork. ‘Course, I just said the words ‘cause that’s what you were expected to do. Sunday church, bible study, praying over meals to a God I never believed in. Never really meant any of the prayers. Guess I figured it was easier to fake it than have them think somethin’ was wrong with me, more than they already thought."
His gaze drifted toward the window, where the faint shimmer of the sun on bright white snow caught the light like a heat haze. "I suppose I like the idea of it now because… well, I know he’s real." Colton gave a little shrug as he reached for his fork again. "So, you don’t pray, that’s fine by me. Ain’t my place to tell anyone how to talk to their folks, Godly or not. I just… never had anything to believe in, before."
He speared a bit of his breakfast, gesturing toward her with it. "Besides, I figure Hephaestus doesn't mind me lookin’ like a fool every once in a while. Man’s gotta stay humble somehow." He grinned at her then, lopsided and bright as the sun, the kind of smile that took the edge off his words.
The right side of Sloane’s mouth tugged into a pensive smile. It was hard to imagine a God being ok with their child being anything other than a perfect progeny, but perhaps that was just Eris. While she knew her mom better than most others at camp knew their divine parent, that didn’t sway her to be more devout or pious. Her mother was chaos incarnate. Prayers to her were fruitless. Sloane wasn’t the type of person to have discord on her mind… That was Sylas’s territory.
"Humility is a good trait to have," she mused, her smile growing faintly before taking a bite of her food.
The pair continued their casual conversation as they ate, learning more about the stark differences between city and farm life that neither one of them had even considered before, while Sloane continued to clarify what she could about camp to Colton’s bewilderment. After finishing their meals and no longer being able to delay anything further, they found themselves back outside in the chill of winter, while Rocco, with a full belly and recharged energy, ran around trying to catch snowflakes.
"Did you pick a cabin?" Sloane asked as she slowly descended the stairs to the main hall, making sure not to slip on any ice or snow. There were a couple steps where she lost traction momentarily, but managed to use the railing to keep her balance and reach the ground safely. "We have like…" She pushed up the sleeves of her coat and oversized sweater to reveal a small, dainty gold watch. "Half an hour before training. So that’ll give us enough time to get changed."
Colton’s hand shot out instinctively when Sloane’s boot slid on a patch of ice, his fingers brushing her elbow just long enough to steady her. “Careful there,” he said softly, a touch of worry in his tone before he realized he might’ve overstepped. He let go just as quickly, trying not to topple head over feet either. “Wouldn’t look too good if my first friend here took a tumble.”
He fished the folded, slightly crumpled map from his back pocket, squinting at the mess of lines and symbols that all seemed to blur together. “Let’s see…” he murmured, spinning it around once, then twice, before giving a quiet laugh. “Reckon I’ll just pick one at random. Can’t be too bad, right?” He jabbed a finger toward a cabin near the edge of the camp, by the lake. “That one,” he said, decisive now, even if he hadn’t the faintest clue what the cabins actually looked like. He glanced over at her, his smile softening. As much as the letter had helped him find the camp, he’d have been lost if Sloane hadn’t showed up with her dog. “Thanks, by the way. For helpin’ me figure all this out. Honestly, without you, I’d probably still be wandering around.”
Sloane peeked around his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the cabin he chose. "It’s not far from mine," she commented while pointing a single finger that stuck out from her oversized sleeve at her own cabin that rested on the far side of the beach. When she looked up she was a bit surprised to be met by Colton’s ever present smile. She swallowed softly, motioning the same hand in the general direction they needed to head to reach his cabin and her own. "You seem capable of reading a map," she replied with a weak attempt at softening the seriousness of his gratitude. Half a dozen nonchalant and partially disregarding comments crossed her mind before she finally replied more seriously. "You’re welcome."
Colton folded the map back up carefully, tucking it into his back pocket like he wouldn’t be pulling it out again in a few seconds, once they’d said their goodbyes. He gave the spot a little pat, as if to reassure himself it wouldn’t disappear on him, then nodded to Sloane, his grin taking on an edge of easy charm and lopsided confidence.
"Alright then," he said, glancing toward the path behind him, having a rough estimate of the direction he ought to go. "I’ll go track down my new home away from home, get changed, and meet you at trainin’. Figure I oughta at least look like I know what I’m doin’ before they hand me a weapon or somethin’." His tone carried that familiar teasing warmth, the kind that could make even a goodbye sound like part of a joke.
He took a few steps backward, still facing her, the heel of his boot crunching lightly in the thick snow. "And don’t worry, I’ll try not to get lost. Ma said I was only allowed to get lost on Tuesdays, anyways." With a final nod and a quick wave, leaving her with that bizarre statement, he turned toward the path, shoulders relaxed and stride easy. Even from behind, there was a certain brightness to him, a quiet kind of optimism that clung to every step, like he genuinely believed the day ahead might just work out fine.
Sloane nodded her head in silent acknowledgement. Under normal circumstances she might have offered to help him find his cabin, but she also needed to change and get Rocco settled for her to be gone for a couple hours. She took a step in the direction of her cabin then hesitated briefly. The snow crunched beneath her boots as she pivoted slightly to look back over her shoulder at him. "If you don’t find your way there I’ll send out a search party," she commented with a soft playfulness and a weak smile. "It’s Rocco—" she nodded her head toward her puppy that sat happily at her feet, "—he’s the search party."
Colton’s laugh echoed through the camp around them, warm and bright, head tipped back ever so slightly as he did so. Knowing he now had a friend in Sloane, a daughter of chaos, made his chest feel warm and his steps feel lighter. The exhaustion from his hike seemed to slip off his shoulders as easily as the snow fell from the branches of the trees around him, and in a bizarre twist, he found himself looking forward to the approaching training. This was, in the end, infinitely better than mourning his losses back home. "He’d enjoy that!" He called back, waving to Sloane.
After giving Colton a small wave, Sloane turned back in the direction of her cabin. She looked down at Rocco who sat impatiently at her side, his furiously wagging tail stirring up a small cloud of snow and anticipation. "Alright buddy," she smiled down at him while giving him a gentle scratch behind his ear. "Home." The second the word left her lips, Rocco kicked off the ground and sprinted down the snow covered path toward their cabin. Sloane tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat and followed lazily in his wake. Knowing that training was looming around the corner, she gave herself a few minutes of peace, enjoying the chilled breeze from the lake and the way the small flakes melted into a sea of white at her feet.
By the time she reached her cabin, Rocco was waiting by the front door, happy and panting like the best of boys. Sloane smiled as she approached. "What a good boy." She kicked her boots against the side of the cabin, knocking off any snow before opening the door. "Let’s get you ready for a nap," she mused, closing the door behind her, shutting out the winter’s chill and camp so they could both prepare for their first time apart since he came into her care.
