Chapter 4: Embers (Wildfire to Rain Storms)
Read on ao3, chapter 1
Percy prides himself on his ability to tell time. That was the beginning of his fascination with clocks, though he hasn't made one in years. But here in the woods, time doesn't seem linear.
As the days start to tick past, they begin to blur together. Wake up, talk to Vex, fix his tower, eat lunch, talk to Vex, continue work on the tower, read, check on the fire, eat dinner, talk to Vex, read, and finally sleep before the cycle starts all over again.
Percy busies himself as much as he can. He occupies his time with repairing his tower. The railing, the sink, the rusty spring in his bed, the loose screws on the table, the windows that are stuck in their frames. And when his hands shake too much to get any real work done, he reads. The copy of Much Ado About Nothing he discovered a few weeks ago is incredibly beat up; the pages are waterlogged and some of the margins have almost illegible notes in them but the words are comforting and familiar.
As he sits reading, curled up in his bed, he can almost imagine himself back in Whitestone Manor. Sometimes the wind catches the cliffside just right and he can almost hear his father's voice a room over. But then his radio will beep or rain will start and he’ll be jerked out of that fantasy far too quickly.
Some days are worse than others.
On those days, he can’t put his binoculars down, endlessly scanning the trees and cliffs for a woman with brown hair and a wicked smile, a gun strapped to her hip. He never finds her, of course. But every nerve in his body is screaming at him that she’s there, that any second she’ll find him and make his life hell once again.
Those nights he sleeps with the chair shoved under the door handle and a pocket knife under his pillow.
And on days that he’s able to stomach the thought of leaving the safety of the tower, he takes a brisk hike.
Vex teases him about constantly staying inside so he tries to appease her and take a short walk at least once a day. He has found rather interesting things this way. He spotted a deer that quickly bounded away from him, and a small meadow filled with snowdrops. Not to mention the slow growing collection of odd rocks. He’s not sure why exactly, but he now has seven oddly colored or shaped stones lining the windowsill of his tower.
As he grew up in the city, he never really experienced nature like this, leading to his almost childlike fascination with the surroundings.
Vex laughs at him when he tells her about his rock collection, though he does hear a waiver of fondness in her voice. Despite himself, he feels that same fond feeling for her.
So time marches on and instead of counting by the sunrises or by the hours, Percy counts the time by Vex. He no longer finds himself wrapped in a never ending cycle of days, but rather shorter cycles that he follows between the moments he is graced with her voice through the radio.
Finish reading on ao3
