THE LOST AND FOUND (P)

[Tarrik Rosdahl]

It was summer he supposed; the breeze was warm and close to sweltering through the midday hours. Green grass covered everywhere that wasn't overshadowed by trees, and the forest grew deeper and darker the further in it went. It would have been a great time if they had any gear, any sense of where they were, and supplies. UNIT and its Scientists had thrown Tarrik and his brother into the infamous dome prison four days ago, and it had been rough. They had made it maybe a half mile before giving up and staying near a small stream that came from the forest. It looked clear he supposed, but what the hell did he know? The couldn't go anywhere easily, Tain was burning up through withdrawal from that stupid shit he always took, and Tarrik was terrified it was going to kill him.

Tain was sleeping right now, or as close to it as he got. Tarrik had found a shady spot in the grass just inside the treeline for his brother, and ranged around it himself, restless and anxious. Tain had yelled and screamed off and for nearly two days in excruciating pain, and realistically Tarrik had expected someone to hear. Hell he'd yelled a few times himself, hoping for help. This place was supposed to be populated with people like them right!? But there had been nothing except crickets and insects to answer. Tain had quieted down in the past two days, but his fever was still burning, and he hadn't really been clear. Tarrik wasn't even sure his brother realized where they were. He'd tried to make a fire to boil the water from the stream, but it was useless; he couldn't get the green wood to catch, and he didn't really know what the hell he was doing. Eventually he just gave up and drank it and waited a while, and when he didn't immediately shit his pants and die he gave some to Tain.

They weren't thirsty, but they were HUNGRY. Or Tarrik was at least; Tain wasn't coherent enough to really voice an opinion on the matter. He couldn't find anything he knew was edible, though he knew a ton of it HAD to be, it was a freakin forest! He was on day four, and the hunger had receded to a distant, angry burn that he tried to ignore. His plan had been for them to follow the edge of the forest until they found something or someone, but Tain hadn't gotten better. As they were now, Tarrik was too weak to carry him either. Stupid, he would berate himself as he soaked Tain's bandana in the stream; he should have carried him while he still could. And he was sure they would have been found by now if he'd been able to build a fire.

So that was how he found himself that afternoon, sitting in the shade by Tain and trying to build a stretcher of sorts. He'd seen people using them in the ancient Western movies Tain loved and thought why the hell not? Dragging him might be easier than carrying. He'd managed to break two hemlock branches free by jumping on them, and was currently trying to use long bendy ones to make a kind of sling between them. Beside him Tain looked like he was finally sleeping real sleep for the first time, which was a good sign he supposed. If he could get the thing built he planned to set out as dusk and follow the stream as it snaked along the treeline, and hoped the cooler night air would help his endurance.


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ooc; set way back when they first landed in the dome on the border of what would later become analoya and bellator lands, but were then unclaimed.

[Dalton Williams]

The coyote lifted a paw and tilted his head, muzzle pointed downwards as the long grass parted underfoot. An ear twitched, anticipating, the tiny scutter of small paws having perked his interest. And then he leapt, a quick hop, pouncing at the mouse with a quiet snap of his jaws. The creature skittered away, unharmed, and he cursed himself before shaking his head with an irritated yawn. It was high noon, the sun was hot, and his northern-style fur lay flat and damp. His flask was out of water, but he’d heard the trickle of a river or stream and had followed the sound here, to the edge of the forest.

Dalton glanced into the thick clumps of trees skeptically, ears flicking back to fold against his head. He was on a mission of sorts; his scouting party had taken him to…somewhere, left him near a pile of boulders, and had told him to come find them. Simple enough in theory, it was to be a test of his internal compass and to measure how well he could track people. And to be fair, their scent wasn’t too far off his course. The problem was that he had been travelling for perhaps an hour, and he was thirsty and in dire need of a shower. Or, well, a bath. …alright, maybe a bucket? Luxuries such as showers didn’t exist in a place like this, but surely they could at least dump a bucket over his head. The coyote rolled his eyes, glanced over his shoulder, then slunk through a pair of massive pine trees to head into the forest. As long as he didn’t go too far in and get lost he’d be fine. And he did need water. They’d understand that.

He’d been in the dome for about a month now, and though he was still a tenderfoot and barely eighteen, the scouts seemed to have been showing some interest in raising his rank if he could prove himself. And he was trying, he really was. Volunteering for scouting missions, running and relaying messages from such missions…it was interesting, much more so than the hunting lessons. You never knew what sort of things you would stumble across or what secrets you’d learn. It could be boring, but it could also be exciting and dangerous - he’d seen enough border skirmishes to know that much.

The coyote prowled with light paws, stepping nimbly over fallen logs and dodging splintered sticks that could poke an eye out if you weren’t careful. He paused a moment to catch his bearings, ears pricked forwards to try and listen for the sounds of the stream, but something else caught his attention instead. Dalton froze, tail bristling in alarm. Whatever was making the sounds, it wasn’t trying to be quiet and it sounded heavy. Instinct gripped his chest and told him to turn right back around. Curiosity won out, and forced him onwards, though he slunk lower to the ground, barely daring to breathe. There was a nearby tree, and he ducked behind it with all the stealth he could summon before peeking out from behind it. Two men, from what he could judge, and strangers both. He’d been warned more than once not to trust certain scents, but as he tilted his nose up and tested the air, he couldn’t recognize any of the ring scents they’d taught him. Asides from what he figured were their own scents, they smelt…sterile.

Perhaps against his better judgement, he stepped out from behind the tree, still in his coyote form, and crept forwards, intent on investigating them both. If it turned out they weren’t friendly, well, he had speed on his side. And if they were….well, if they weren’t part of a ring, imagine the faces of those scouts if he brought back recruits! That’d definitely put him in good favour. The coyote tilted his head at the one who was still awake, eyes narrowed, ears flicking back and forth uncertainly and waiting, waiting, waiting. Testing.

[Tarrik Rosdahl]

Tarrik let out a frustrated sound and flopped over on his back, giving up for the moment. The stupid thing was more or less together, and his fingers were raw and covered in sap and he smelled like a tree. Whatever.

Overhead he could see the clouds roll by, and he wondered sourly how that was even possible. Were they projected? Simulated? Or was the dome really that massive?! It seemed incredible. It WOULD be incredible if it wasn't being used as a prison. How had it ever happened, an achievement like this and then they thought, you know what we could do with it? Throw people in to DIE. They could have recreated dinosaurs.. or dragons! Why not dragons?! Keep them in the dome and let people watch them and feed them... goats or whatever.

Just the thought of food made his stomach tighten painfully. He picked a blade of grass and held it up to the light, wondering if it was edible. How moronic would it be if it was? Starving to death, laying on food the whole time. With a grunt he pushed himself up onto his elbows to see how Tain was doing and...

"OI!" He jerked to his knees and lunged to the side, landing in a crouch between the dog and Tain, hands out and open, facing it. He opened his mouth to tell it to run off when he remembered, no shit, this place was FULL of shape-shifters. And it had been looking at him with a curious little head tilt, no aggression. Was this a shifter?! If so why the heck were they creeping around like that instead of walking up and saying hello like a normal person?

"Uh.. hi? Hola? um.. Ca-va? You're like us, right Coyote? I think? We've been here for four days and I'm starving and my brother needs help and... yeah." His hands tilted to the outside in a shrug effect, hoping he wasn't just talking nonsense at a wild animal.

[Dalton Williams]

Dal jerked back in surprise when the man yelled at him quite suddenly, and his ears flattened back against his head, fur raising in alarm. He lurched to his paws, ready to flee at a moment’s notice should the other turn aggressive, when the man started babbling at him in multiple languages before settling on English. The coyote tilted his head again, amused, tail wagging slowly as he studied him up and down with an intensely scrutinizing gaze. His hands were free of weapons, he wore no knife holsters, and his body language screamed ‘dazed and confused but defensive’. If he were trying to lure Dalton into a false sense of security, it was likely he would’ve already done it by now. Besides, it seemed like he was more concerned that Dalton was interested on eating the man who he could only assume was his brother. As it were, Dal felt a pang of sympathy towards them. He’d been new once too, lost in this tangled maze of a dome and searching for any form of help he could find.

Satisfied that he was no longer under threat, Dalton continued to slink closer towards the pair, pausing three feet away to scent at the air again in case he’d missed something the first time, but detected nothing new. That was promising. Finally, he spoke to the other man, ears tipped forwards, “Hola. ¿Estás perdido?” He was, of course, just being a little shit, teasing him by not answering immediately in English. Of course they were lost, why else would they be here?! The coyote gave a bark of laughter, and added a short moment later, his tone entirely shiftertongue, “Hey. Yeah, no, I’m a wild beastie. Completely feral. Me talking to you? All in your head. The Keepers do that sometimes.” He waited approximately ten seconds before deciding to put the other out of his misery, and shifted smoothly from a coyote to a human, crouched on the ground in mimicry of the other’s pose. “Kidding, I’m like you.”

Dalton stood up, dusted his hands off, and folded his arms across his chest, glancing down at them with a tilt of his head that was still entirely coyote-like. Some habits die hard. “Four days, huh?” He peeked around the area, hazel eyes narrowing. For spending four days there, it didn’t look like they’d set up much of a camp. His eyes snapped back towards his brother, nose wrinkling a little. While he didn’t smell like death or anything nearly as drastic as that, the scents of sweat and uneasy illness rolled off him in waves. It made Dal a little uneasy himself; if he could smell that, anyone – or anything - else could as well, and they might not be as friendly as he was. “What’s wrong with your brother?”

Dal pushed his mop of dusty brown curls out of his face, reminding himself for the third time that day that he was definitely going to bother his roommate to help him cut his hair as soon as he got back. It had grown past his chin and was well on its way to touching his shoulders. The boy tossed the other man a considering look, eyebrows raised, then reached into the pack slung across his pack, and tossed him a strip of cured meat. It tasted like beef jerky, more or less, but was tougher to chew. Still, it’d satisfy the hunger, for a little while at least. “There, that should help you some. Y’got a name, then, newbie?”

[Tarrik Rosdahl]

He wasn't entirely prepared for the coyote-boy to talk to him still as a coyote, and jumped a few centimeters in surprise and landed back on his butt. He opened his mouth to answer -of course he was lost!-, but the coyote beat him to it. He talked total nonsense at Tarrik, who had to squint at him in confusion and a touch of apprehension. Was there crazy in the water here, or was he just hallucinating from hunger? In the long moment where he wondered this the coyote shifted into a teenage boy, looking a little younger than himself but otherwise alright. He was kinda dirty, and had dark under his eyes that looked more or less permanent, contrasting the sunken hungry look he was wearing himself.

"...Good to hear," he ventured, watching the boy tilt his head at him. And then he asked after Tain, and Tarrik turned to check on his brother himself. He hadn't budged, hadn't even opened an eye. "Yeah, about four in here, I don't remember how many in the labs." He couldn't help wrinkling his nose as he brought that up, that had sucked. How could they legally treat them like that, shape-shifters or not!? They were still human most of the bloody time. He didn't answer about Tain right away, mostly because he wasn't certain how it would be received. His brother was far from useless, and he didn't want them to act like he was dead-weight, or worse diseased. But a second later the coyote-boy tossed him some kind of jerky, which he barely caught, as means of the proverbial olive branch, and Tarrik decided he liked him. Even if he was kinda weird.

"I'm Tarrik, that's Tain. He.. was on some really stupid stuff before we were caught, he'd detoxing or withdrawing, whatever you call it. It's been really bad, we couldn't go anywhere." He gestured at the branch and vine frame he'd been working on between them. "I was gonna use this to try and carry him and follow the stream tonight, I'd pretty much given up on anyone finding us. So uh.. who are you? Is there anyone else with you that could help...?" He let the question hang as he bit into the jerky, and did his best not to wolf it down. He ate about half before moving back to try and shake Tain awake, but got nothing. That wasn't a great sign, and he shot the stranger a worried look before giving up or the moment and eating the rest of the strip himself. If he was going to have to carry him, he was going to need all the strength he could get.

[Dalton Williams]

Dalton nodded his head as he watched the other man chew on the jerky, pleased that he’d accepted that offer, then slowly unfolded his arms and lowered himself to the ground, sitting across from him with his hands in his lap. A little rest wouldn’t do him any harm, he figured, and the cooler air in the forest would keep him from overheating any more than he already had been. And this man sitting before him seemed alright, even potentially nice, and far from stupid; if he felt he could trust the food, then he probably figured that he could trust Dal as well – which would go far in the long run, if Dalton was going to try and help him at all. He’d tried to help other new people before, and most of the encounters had gone well enough, but there was one instance he could recall where it had gone awry, where the girl, nervous and twitchy of his every move, had ended up taking off before he had a chance to explain who he even was. Dal just hoped she’d managed to survive past the first few days on her own.

The boy ran his fingers through his perpetually messy hair, eyeing the other as he began to speak, then offered him a shrug. “Nobody really knows how long they’re in the labs for, it’s not exactly easy to keep track when they’re throwing you into test machine after test machine,” He made a face as he said it, his fingers finding a stray burr in his hair and working to pull it out. His own experiences in the labs had given him lasting nightmares, and had only helped to solidify his fears of any sort of hospitals and medical equipment. The medics back at Fulsi had a difficult time dealing with him whenever he got hurt, and while he was well aware that they were only trying to help, it was always enough to put him in an anxious panic. Distractions helped, if only to ease the worst of it.

A smile flashed in his direction as he heard their names, flicking the burr away with a little snort. “So…T and T, then. Like dynamite? That’s pretty cool,” He let him continue, eyes drifting over to the makeshift frame he’d been building, then back over to Tain’s sleeping figure, and then finally to Tarrik again himself. “My name’s Dalton. And yeah, there is…I’m part of a scouting party; they’re up ahead somewhere, I was training – learning how to track ‘em," He couldn't help but keep the pride out of his voice. "Hasn’t been too hard to follow them, their scent’s pretty strong. I only came over here to get water, then I heard you,” He tilted his head consideringly, then shuffled a little closer to him, deciding that there was no point in beating around the bush, and laid it out for him point blank. “Look, if you stay here with him much longer, sooner or later, someone or something else might find you two, and they might not be nearly as civil. But if I help you build that frame or help you carry him, and we get your brother to that party, we can take him back to Fulsi," He paused, remembering to clarify since he wouldn't know what that meant yet. "Fulsi...I guess you could call it a gang, sort of. But it's home. We’re located in the city, and we have medical supplies that could help him.” His eyes locked onto his, bright hazel to shockingly light grey, as he raised both eyebrows. “You in?”

[Tarrik Rosdahl]

"Yeah," he hazarded, warming to him a bit more, "like dynamite."

He couldn't help the anxiety that curled in his chest when the coyote-boy looked at Tain. It sat there like a hard ball of iron while he introduced himself and started to talk, cold and sickening despite the food he'd finally eaten. The tracking thing was a little weird, but he guessed it made sense if they had to hunt for food in here. It wasn't like he had any food-gathering skills himself beyond yearly berry and fruit picking trips with his mothers, and somehow he didn't think there were going to be immaculate orchards anywhere in here. But it was the information Dalton followed with that really made his stomach roll; the threat of the others in the dome, and the reluctant admittance of gangs.

Honestly he should have expected something similar, he'd been a part of one for years. The skin on the back of his neck itched fiercely where it had been tattooed as he watched Dalton and weighed his choices and guilt. Rosa, Bear, and Jake's faces swam to the forefront of his mind, and Dalton's face blurred as his eyes filled. He scrubbed them back with the heel of his hand, pushing down the swell of loss in his chest. For all he knew UNIT had taken his surviving friends as well, though he hadn't seen a glimpse of them in the cages.

But for all his hesitations, he couldn't turn Dalton's offer down. They desperately needed the help, and all he could do was hope that they went over well with them, and they'd help Tain. There was no question of him kicking ass if things went badly after all, not half starved with dead weight in tow.

"Yeah, we're in." he said finally, head turning to look at the frame he'd made. It was going to have to work. "How far is this city? I mean it doesn't really matter, I'll carry him no matter what, just...?" The concern was clear in his voice; he didn't know how long his strength would last. He rolled sluggishly to his feet to avoid the thought and walked to the stream, crouching and drinking, then patiently getting Tain to as well. And then there was really nothing for it, he paused, then beckoned Dalton with a hand as he got behind his brother, a hand under his shoulders.

"Can you grab his ankles? He's not super heavy, just big. ....aand yeah, right over..." They got Tain on the wooden frame, which held to his immense relief as they picked it up. He'd originally intended to have to drag it, but a two-person carry would obviously be easier. "Thanks, Dalton. I mean we're.. well you know? Just thanks." His voice choked up a little and he looked down at Tain's face, pale and asleep despite the jostling. If they really did have the supplies to keep him alive, he'd join their gang a hundred times over.

[Dalton Williams]

It didn’t take long for them to ease Tain onto the makeshift frame, and when Tarrik thanked him afterwards, Dal offered him a warm smile, shifting his grip into a more comfortable position. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, alright? He’ll be okay.” There wasn’t much else he could offer him in the way of reassurance besides kind words, unfortunately, but he hoped they would help him all the same. When he’d first come to the dome, scared and confused and angry, he’d wished for someone to say that to him – to tell him that everything would be fine. But that had never come. Oh, sure, someone had found him and brought him to Fulsi, but he hadn’t bonded to anyone right away. Slowly, though, the hot burn of anger and teenage angst had washed away to be replaced with the steadfast truth that while life would never be the same, he would make it in this warped place.

Still, Tain didn’t look too hot – pale and sweaty and worse, comatose. Dalton nodded his head in a general direction as they started to walk out from the shade of the trees, “It’s not too far from here, I’d guess maybe about four or five miles bearing East? You’ll see it before we get there, the original tower buildings are still standing. S’good thing you didn’t head further west, Carna’s that way. Would’a turned you both vicious, if they didn’t decide to make minced meat of you first. Egh.” Nothing good ever came from a run in with a Carna, or so he’d heard. He’d seen the scars and injuries on others to prove it, too. Like Mickey – oh, poor Mickey, he’d come back to Fulsi sans a hand after getting into a brawl with a machete-wielding Carna lady. Yikes.

He squinted as the sun glanced off his face, and turned his gaze to track it across the field. They were close at hand to the scouting party; he could sense them as well as smell them, and pointed it out to Tarrik, “They’re over there, by that grove of trees with the large rocks and the big stump. If they try to leave, I swear to god, I’ll run them down. I don’t care if I’m a bloody tenderfoot, they can deal. But…we should go to them, that way if you get tired one of them can take over carrying him? And then we head straight to Fulsi. Hell, the scouts might even have some medicine in their supplies; that’d be a lucky thing.” There was a brief pause where he considered something, and then added, “Too bad they didn’t actually tow along a healer today. I honestly don’t see why the hunters covet them more, both jobs are just as dangerous.” Dal figured that, perhaps, the more he talked, the more he could distract the other from thinking about his brother’s current state, take the tension off a little.