Friends under the sun

It's an even sound, creak creak creak, in the same order over and over and over. A double barrel laying in my lap as I rocked back and forth in the rocking chair. I kept the shotgun pointed at the door of the cabin, my finger resting on both triggers. A single twitch, a single twitch of my finger will tear a hole in the door and whatever the thing behind it is. 

The cabin is pretty cozy, a lit fire place, the rain hitting the ceiling creating a soft rumble like noise, dried herbs and spices giving the place a scent one would have to smell before understanding. The cabin probably has a homey air to it, a shame I'm too mortified to appreciate it, the cabin being foreign to me was not helping. I call myself the lord of a house foreign to me. 

Craaaaaaaak, the door slowly swung open I came eye to eye with myself. Two identical paranoid librarians pointing shotguns at each other. It was as if someone froze time, it felt like the chair stopped mid swing. Our eyes locked into each other for an eternity and a half.

The funny thing about firing a gun is that you don't hear your shots, you just go deaf for a moment. You most likely don't, I haven't gotten a physical in a while. I felt something wet tickle my lips, oh. He missed my skull, probably because I had the genius idea of firing both barrels in a rocking chair. 

The chair violently swung back, thanks to my genius idea my back made a rather impactfull introduction with the ground. Or in other words, I broke my fucking spine, or at least it hurts enough to be my spine. I looked into the fire pit as a copper taste crawled into my mouth, something crawled out of the flaming chamber. 

Am I tearing myself apart as the omen keeps growing in the horizon?

I woke up in a cold seat, choking on my own breath as my hammock swung from left and right as it was disturbed by my sudden awakening. My hand slid over the side of my head, no blood, only sweat. 

Just a bad dream... or perhaps a warning of what is to come. 

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"Who is that?"

I made progress, her name is Elena, or at least she says it is. Many people took the chance of apocalypse to crown themselves with new names, after all, true names hold power. Not sure if that applies to mortals too, but it sounds cool to say. Well, I'm not saying it... I'm doing it again. 

I was hanging up some decorations while Elena held me up by my waist. I looked over at who she was referring to. 

"No one knows her real name or who she used to be, the only things we do know is that she raided an instrument shop, spent all her time after arriving three years learning the guitar and she's experienced with explosives."

"She's what?"

"We just call her Melody, or Melly, or music lady."

"Why does she know explosives?"

"For the same reason I know spears and you know axes, because there is only sunshine during daytime."

"What if the day is cloudy?" 

"Then we get the drying rack inside."

After tying the knot on the decor I signaled her to put me down. 

"Times have changed and we are changing too. It won't be long until everyone knowing how to fight will be the norm. We are clinging to the last bit of a long gone civil life by simply coming together and celebrating the seasons or our days of birth."

"I think we trailed off a bit. What does that have to do with the music lady being good with bombs?"

"There is a place and time for everything and the music lady gets to choose both."

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"Is it blood?"

"No, the fruits fluids are just very high in iron... somehow."

"... makes sense, I guess? Your scouts did say it was growing out of metal."

Ugh... it itches...

"Yes, but HOW?"

"You're the science lady, I'm a road guy. Seems pretty obvious who should have the answers and who it would be pointless to ask."

"A road guy who went to college with me, you just choose not to use your brain."

My hands are itching...

"I'm a fool not an idiot, I wasn't given thinking duty, I won't do thinking duty."

"You're impossible."

"Thanks:"

"Ugh... I need a break from this, thing."

She pushed away the strange fruit in a jar, rubbing her temple with a groan. She has been sitting at this thing for a while trying to figure it out on her own. 

"Would probably have been a lot easier if you wouldn't try to figure it out on your own with no lab equipment."

"Just shut up, I'm on break." 

Scratch scratch scratch, my hands just itch so much...

"Distract me."

"What am I supposed to say to something like that? Yes my mistress, it'll be my honor? That Melody lady is like playing music the whole time, you could leave your cave for once and listen to her if you need a distraction that bad."

"... what's wrong with your hands?"

"They have just been itching lately, why?"

"... your skin is coming off."

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"That's a lot of sunflowers."

"The Kelts mark their territory with a line of sunflowers, much like how we spread apple trees. Only that we use them as directions while the Kelts use the sunflowers as warning shields." 

"A warning for what?"

"Anyone who would steal crops." 

I stepped past the flowers with my cape fluttering in the cold wind, the gaps are big enough to let people through but not anything bigger.

"Can we just walk in? What if they think we're thieves?"

"They can make the highly educated guess that we have a valid reason to approach."

How easy would it be to hide in a field of sunflowers? Not that easy, right? I don't feel any weight on my neck. Is it afraid of the Kelts? Or was it truly one of my scholars? Whatever or whoever it is, it shall know that drawing my blood comes at the cost of everything.

 "People up ahead."