Kyungsoo woke up for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, but was in reality was only the fifth or sixth, breathless. He'd already thrown the duvet off his legs and pulled off his shirt, finding himself damp with sweat around two hours ago; his hair was a mess, most probably reminiscent of a bird's nest.

No matter how many times he fell asleep, he'd be woken by the same nightmare. Or at least, he thought it was the same nightmare, but he couldn't be completely sure- he didn't remember it, only abrupt flashes of colour and a distinct rush of fear. 

It was terrifying and he could not escape. So, when he rose from his bed at one in the morning, he resigned to the fact that he probably wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night. He padded out of his small bedroom, into the kitchen and through the large folding doors onto a balcony overlooking the ranges below.

It was eerie in the nighttime, beautifully eerie. Nothing seemed to be moving, save for the river, which flowed black in the dark, reflecting clearly the stars above. Kyungsoo knew there were things out there, that the forest and mountains were alive; but from this place so high up, everything was quiet. In that moment, Kyungsoo felt like the only person in the world.

The illusion dissipated the minute something moving on the other side, on the hill leading up to his house, caught his gaze. He tilted his head to give it his full attention, just as quickly turning away when he saw what it was- or rather, who.

His mother, laughing, pulling in tow a man who looked slightly on the more drunken side of things. Kyungsoo heard her pitched giggles echoing through the isolated range, and the fake of the entire thing pained him. 

Reina was strong, beautiful in all other aspects, and it was because of this that Kyungsoo held her in such high regards. But when hunger struck in the dead of the night, it turned her into something disgusting. Monsters and demons... They aren't things one can control. When they take hold, they control you.

Reina was still his mum, and nothing would change that. But as Kyungsoo heard her pull that unsuspecting man into her bedroom with a definitive slam of the door, for the slightest moment, he wished she were different, that they were different. Constantly, he'd have to remind himself that the monster was only within her; she wasn't the monster, she was but a vessel.

Quickly, Kyungsoo darted inside, grabbing off the counter a notepad and scooping a discarded pencil from the floor. Then he jumped outside, back to the pile of ricks, making sure to quietly shut the door behind him. The last thing he needed to hear was his mother and that man.

The air was still, somewhat warm, and Kyungsoo felt tension he didn't even realise was there escape his shoulders as he looked out over the land below. It never got old, this view; without fail, he found himself inexplicably calmer sitting out here.

He thought back on the Voice, visiting him before, and a worried crease appeared in his brow. Something was stirring, that much he knew- what was happening though? The voice was being infuriatingly evasive, as always, and once again Kyungsoo was left floundering for answers.

Fretting about it wasn't going to achieve anything, though, and so Kyungsoo reluctantly pushed the thought to the back of his mind, picking up the notepad and pencil, begun sketching. His mind didn't go blank, per se, but there was a sense of detachment there as he drew. His fingers flew without direction, or so it seemed, and he concentrated on nothing else but the drawing.

Time slipped by; Kyungsoo had no idea how long he sat there. It could've been mere minutes, it could've been almost an hour. His surroundings were unchanging, as always, the night still. Time may as well've stopped.

The sketch had started out as a picture of his mother, that much Kyungsoo knew. But the further away he got away from reality, the more his subconscious took control of the pencil- and now, staring at him from the page was a girl Kyungsoo had never seen before in his life.

Her hair was unruly and long, locks tumbling over one broad shoulder. Strength, courage seeped from the sharp charcoal lines; her face was angular, the expanse dotted with freckles, cheekbones prominent and nose straight. Full lips were parted slightly, not downturned but not smiling either, and her slightly slanted eyes were large and hardened, framed with thick, slightly stubby lashes. Beauty- yes, she had it, but it was coarse, rough, untapped, perhaps undiscovered. It was raw.

Kyungsoo frowned. It seemed he'd drawn a warrior, if the scars on her chest were anything to go by, and an angry one at that. Her eyebrows were arched with such disapproval, as though she was silently reprimanding Kyungsoo through the paper for ignobility, for dishonour. Whatever it was, whatever she was thinking, she chilled Kyungsoo to the bone.  

"Kyungsoo." Sharp address jolted his gaze from the drawing, and he jumped up, spinning around to find his mother frowning down at him. She'd drawn her hair up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, and wrapped a light robe around her presumably bare body. Kyungsoo averted his eyes, and she sighed. "Who's that?" she asked cautiously, and Kyungsoo shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied quietly, before looking back at her. There was a small smudge of dried red on her jaw, and he swallowed. "Are you... done?" His mother nodded, catching his gaze, and in her eyes he saw eons of suffering and fighting finally numbed. It was too bad he couldn't make peace with her monsters the way she obviously could.

"Here." She reached out, pulling the notepad from Kyungsoo's grasp and turning to face the house, not touching him once. They were both more comfortable that way, at this point. "Come and sleep," she said gently as she begun to walk up to the house, and Kyungsoo followed dutifully. Her posture was closed off, shoulders hunched and head slightly bowed. Perhaps she did still feel that hurt, after so long. Her back attested to as much.

Days. Days and days stuck on a minibus- almost a week- and Jongin felt like soon he was going to explode. Xiumin was faring much worse.
 
That day after the attack had been grim, nobody talking much; Sehun whining about his leg, Zitao tensing silently to everyone's wounds and Kris driving with a look on his face that Jongin thought could turn a person to stone if directed upon them. Needless to say, he steered clear of eye contact with the Walker even more than he normally would, just in case.

When they'd arrived at their motel that night, nobody complained about the rooms. Zitao explained to them all the attack, and what it meant, and Jongin was scared absolutely less.

Now they had demonic henchmen on their tail, who were trained to kill and instructed to do so to them. Jongin was prince, and he and friends were, no matter what he'd thought back in Jaedue, utterly unequipped for war. He didn't even know what he was thinking back then- he'd had this idealistic view of how things would play out, and now all those illusions had been shattered. These things were murderers, and if Jongin couldn't handle their little Shifter followers, what chance did he stand against the real thing?

So he'd kept quiet. For a week of driving, he'd remained closed off, speaking only when necessary, trying to sort himself out slightly. He knew running wasn't an option- Zitao would only track him down, maybe torture him (probably not, but that Walker couldn't be trusted). It seemed his fate was inescapable, and so Jongin was trying to internally psych himself up for the upcoming battle.

Thus far it wasn't working. And the minibus slowly becoming claustrophobic wasn't helping in the slightest.

Sehun seemed to slip into depression at times, but Jongin wasn't quite sure if that was because he too was having trouble coming to terms with the possibility of imminent defeat, or just from lack of attention. The poor thing was starved in comparison to the round-the-clock fawning upon he'd received back home; here, everyone was too focusing on keeping themselves sane, and largely unbothered by the four walls surrounding them almost 24/7, to worry about a whiny Shifter brat.

They'd been eating a diet made up mostly of takeaway, and while the burger on the first day had been amazing, the novelty had begun to wear off.

"Joy," Luhan deadpanned, "More fries." He unwrapped the food without enthusiasm, balancing the packages on his knees and wrinkling his nose as the smell of grease and fried things permeated the entirety if the bus. Everybody else seemed to be thinking along the same lines, expressions ranging from slightly ill, to angry, to disinterested.

The Defective up the front weren't complaining though, digging into their meals with the ferocity they'd possessed that first lunchtime. Jongin couldn't watch the girl as she ate. It was far too confronting; she eyed her burger murderously, ripped it apart with unfathomable anger. Or at least, that was what it looked like.

In fact, now he thought about it, everything seemed to make that girl angry. She seemed furious when she laid eyes on people, or motels, or food, or even the bus. The only thing that didn't a her her, it seemed, was her lanky friend, Chanyeol. Slowly, she was warming up to the snippy Walker too. Zitao was already in; but of course, Jongin would expect no less of the Walkers.

Jongin didn't even want to know what went through her mind - he suspected it'd make him feel slightly guilty, and he hated that - but sometimes, he'd find himself watching her. Passing time was a struggle on a bus, and observing that girl proved to be quite interesting- when she wasn't devouring, of course.

Her face was like a mask, but her eyes, every now and again, would flash, and Jongin could catch a glimpse into what went on behind the armour. Things she found interesting (which were rare, travelling through Walker countryside), things she found amusing, things she found sad. They'd driven through a small rural Defective community four days in, and it's seemed to have affected her the most. The slum was even more of a pigsty than her own, and the sorrow Jongin had caught in her eyes almost evoked sympathy. Almost.

Being on the run was most troublesome, as lines between Defective and not were being blurred. As bad as it sounded, it was truth that the two societies didn't mingle. There was animosity between Walkers and Shifters, sure, but there was also an unspoken understanding between the two parties when it came to Defective. They were a different level and were to be thought of as such, but spending so much time in such close proximity to a few of them made them seem less like Defective, and more like people.

It was frightening, but Jongin's curiosity beat the fear hands down. Something compelled him to look at her, regard her quietly- so long as it was solely observation, with no contact whatsoever, he was sure he'd be fine. She was like a zoo exhibit, and Jongin was positive that no urge to get close to her would arise any time soon. Somewhat like the lion or tiger in a cage. You look, but you most certainly don't touch. Or provoke. Or really get too close at all.

Yes, JinJu was like a beast at the zoo for Jongin- which he considered somewhat ironic in the sense that they were the animals, somewhat, and she was outcast for not being an animal (somewhat).

Ah, how Jongin amused himself.

After the sun set that evening, they eventually pulled into another small inn, one they'd been driving down the seemingly never ending stretch of road searching for.  As they all wearily retired to the rooms Zitao had negotiated, Xiumin took to jogging around the carpark for a half hour or so, mentally prepping himself for another day of travel tomorrow. Jongin had half a mind to join him, but was also exhausted. For whatever reason, travelling was tiring.

The place was undesirable, to say the least- exactly like the other one's they'd stayed at. It was small and wooden, positioned right next to an entrance to the Indion forest, a looming expanse of pines. Jongin swore, when he finally returned to his palace, he was going to spend at least six hours in the bathtub in order to remove the grime of all these lowlife inns. It was disgusting, and he knew for a fact that the Prince of Indion had absolutely no business in such places.

Sehun flopped onto the bed beside him with an obnoxious groan, burying his face in the pillow and yelling. He then turned to face Jongin with a scowl, who'd been watching the spectacle play out. "This is your fault you know."

Jongin scoffed, but inwardly fretted- perhaps Sehun was right. He had been the one to drag them out to Adai in the first place, full of heroic delusions that were, realistically, never going to amount to anything. "No, this is my dad's fault," he finally retorted, and the younger rolled his eyes.

"Oh, how typically you, Jongin. Find someone else to peg the blame upon." Jongin gaped, feeling a rush of anger because the accusation was entirely hypocritical. That coming from Sehun, the boy who hadn't been able to admit one mistake since he was around 7?

"That's rich, coming from-"

"Cool it, you two. Zitao'll flay you both if you get into a fight, and you know it." Both of them were silent at Luhan's words, perhaps imagining being flayed. It didn't strike them as very appealing, in any case, so instead they looked separate ways, jaws tensed and expressions fixed scowls.

Luhan sighed behind them. "And now you've gone and made things awkward," he muttered, sitting slowly down on his own bed. "You know, when you told us we were going on a trip Jongin, I expected it to be more fun."

Jongin snorted, "Yeah, well, you can thank the Defectives for that letdown. We can't do anything with them around- they're like deadweight." He sighed, rolling into his back despondently. "I still can't tell if Zitao's for real or not. Like, this could be a huge load of bull, and we're just going along with it."

"I bet they planned it," Sehun mumbled, egging him on, "Bet they wanted to humiliate the Prince, the Shifters. Degrade us, make us mingle with Defective..."

Luhan looked up sharply, glaring across the room at Sehun. Said Shifter cocked an eyebrow in challenge, and Luhan inhaled sharply, as if trying to calm himself. "You know, I've half the mind to let Jongin hit you next time. You deserve a good beating. Besides," he lowered his gaze once again to the loose thread he was fiddling with from the worn quilt adorning the bed, "I'm fairly sure Zitao is legitimate. He saved us from those guys last week, remember? Sehun, you said yourself that your leg would've been gnawed off if it weren't for him."

"Yeah, but-" Sehun paused, frowning, somewhat lose for words. "But... I mean, who got us into this mess in the first place? It was those Walkers! If it weren't for them coming to collect us-"

"We'd still somehow find ourselves with them," Luhan finished calmly. "I believe in all this stuff Zitao is telling us, Sehun- fate, and all that. He saved our lives right on time... I believe there's a reason we're here."

"With Defectives." 

Luhan this time directed his irate gaze upon Jongin. "Don't say that like it's a bad thing."

Jongin gaped, "Well, it's hardly good!"

"Only if you're being negative," Luhan declared loftily. "We should be seeing this as a learning experience! I mean, we're never going to actually interact with their type again- and they produce a lot of our raw materials, you know? Like, coal and stuff. Figuring them out might make negotiations in the future a little easier for you, Jongin. I'm assuming they're pretty simple... Who knows? This could get you in your father's good books!"

Jongin winced at the mention of his father, but nodded thoughtfully all the same. Luhan didn't have a clue, he realised. He had a few suspicions of his own- and if observing that Defective girl, JinJu, from time to time had taught him anything, it was that she was far from simple.

Looking at Luhan's naively optimistic face, he commended him for trying- but unravelling those Defective would turn out around ten times more difficult than trying to understand Sehun (and even then, he wasn't much of a benchmark). Luhan still seemed to be struggling on the latter, as was Jongin, so he wasn't going to be entertaining the notion of understanding them any time soon.

Besides, why would he even want to?

They all rose the next morning with stiff necks and defeatist postures, packing their bags with the enthusiasm of zombies and trudging over to the van as always looking positively despondent. Kris felt himself get gradually more depressed as each person got onto the bus (aside from Jongin and Sehun, their unhappiness actually cheered him up) and, in order to take his mind of the heinous task that lay before him- eight or nine hours of driving, to be specific- he looked over to the forest beside them.

Everything that had happened had only served to assert one truth to Kris, and that was that it was very likely that they were all going to die at the end of this. Most of them were weak, and horrible fighters at that- the only ones who really stood a chance were the Defectives, Xiumin and maybe that Baekhyun kid (Zitao and Kris were, needless to say, better than all of them). Even Suho was screwed.

The thought of marching into a suicide mission with his younger brother didn't appeal much to Kris, but if Zitao was right- and he always was- then the alternative was far more grim.

With this bunch, Kris concluded, it was fight or die trying.

"Kris!" Zitao glared at him from inside the vehicle, and Kris sighed, reaching out to open the door. Everybody else was in the bu