(lol, Alrighty!) Poppy dreamt of fire. Her dreams were normally very peaceful and abstract, with very little plot line to follow, but this time, she dreamt of fire. It slunk towards a concrete roof, where Poppy stood with the ambassador in front of her and Francis to her left. Francis collapsed, and the fire drew closer. The ambassador laughed, but a hand that was connected to no one grabbed his collar and hung him over the flames, and the look of fear that struck his face was immediate. He was dropped, and the fire drew closer and closer. Poppy awoke suddenly, her body locked in the same position she had fallen asleep in, her eyes wide with fear. She didn't gasp or sit up quickly like her younger siblings did when they had nightmares. Poppy simply stayed frozen in place and stared straight ahead, until she realized that the sunlight streaming in through the tent's mesh was not the light of the flames, and the figure sleeping across from her was not dead. She sat up slowly, and closed her eyes, trying to press the image out of her head. She took a deep breath. Held it. Exhaled. Everything was okay. Everything was fine. She stood up and exited the tent and squinted in the morning sunshine. The forest was warm and inviting, and Poppy sat down on the edge of the deck, her legs dangling in the open air, and she let the sun hit her face as she stared off into space, thinking carefully.
Francis slept in awkward and uncomfortable positions. This time, his face was buried in his elbow, and his hand was stuck under his head. He was sleeping on his other arm, and his legs were also posed oddly. He was still sleeping soundly.
Poppy turned to look at him, and chuckled to herself, shaking her head with amusement. She tapped her wristwatch. "A.D.R.I.A.N," she said quietly. "Please take a picture." "Yes, Poppy," the A.I dutifully responded, and she focused the frame and snapped a quick picture. "Blackmail," she muttered to herself as she looked back out to the forest. She considered the situation for a moment and frowned. If she thought about it, the two of them hadn't really eaten yesterday. She thought about it and then nodded to herself. She'd go pack and go find something. She was pretty good with identifying plant life, and there was also that stream they had crossed earlier which probably had some fish in it. She returned inside the tent and gathered her belongings, getting ready to go.
Francis jumped awake. Whenever he awoke it was always very sudden. "Huh? What- Oh. What are you doing?"
Poppy had jumped when he woke, and now had her hand over her heart to try to calm it. "Jesus," she exclaimed. "You frightened me." She returned to her work, and slung her pack over her shoulder. "I was going to go find some food. Is that okay with you?"
She thought about it for a moment, before shrugging. "Probably not longer than a half an hour or so. I'll come check in with you if it's going to take longer than that."
He gave a nod. "That'd be best. I'm probably just going to go back to sleep," he said, his voice tired. He laid back down again, but checked his watch before. "Alright, well. Don't die or whatever."
He covered his face with his arm again, blocking the sunlight from his eyes. It only took a few moments to fall back asleep.
She had been gone for roughly 15 minutes when she screamed. It would be a strange thing to listen to, because Poppy so rarely seemed unhappy, and it felt as if her vocal chords shouldn't be capable of making that sound. It was definitely her, but full of fear. It was cut off abruptly, As if somebody had flipped a switch.
Francis jumped up at the sound of the scream. He bolted outside, sliding more than climbing down the ladder. He ran towards the sound where the scream was, looking for anything.
The scream had come from the creek, but when Francis got there, the only sign of her was her bag, splayed open, and droplets of blood on the ground. Impression in the grass headed towards the scouting camp.
(Sorry! My phone was being a brat and malfunctioning.) The impressions led to the campsite. Poppy was sitting against a tree, her hands tied behind her back. She had a split lip, and various cuts and bruises trailing up her body. She was very pale, and her head was hanging down. She was very still. Two of the scouts were talking to each other from outside the tent. "You think she was the only one?" one of them asked, jutting his thumb towards Poppy. "Not sure," the other said frowning. "I feel like they would have traveled in groups if there was more of them."
(It's no problem! It gave me time to print stuff and make stickers.) Francis hid behind a tree, breathing quietly and watching the scouts. He crept closer, switching from tree to tree to see if they had any weapons to use against him.
The scouts did have weapons, long thin guns with scopes on the top. However, from the position Francis was in, he would be able to see that Poppy's hands, out of sight from the scouts, were working quickly, trying to unfasten the knots that contained her. The rest of her stayed completely still, even when one of the scouts came nearby and kicked her foot. "She should be coming to soon," he said, turning to look at his partner. "Is she gonna talk to the boss?" "Yeah," the other one said, nodding. "He wants to find out how she got out before we get rid of her. Apparently, the other camps haven't found anyone else."
Francis picked up a rock. He weighed the options. Should he throw the rock to distract the scouts, or wait and see who the boss was? He didn't move, choosing to listen a bit longer.
The one who kicked Poppy's foot swung his gun on his back, kneeled down next to her and put his finger under her chin, pushing her face to look up at him. Her hands froze behind her back, and she kept her eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness. "She's kind of a pretty one, huh?" he asked. The other one shrugged and turned to look back into the forest. "Not my type," he said, kicking up some dirt. The man holding Poppy's face shrugged, and turned away to return to his spot. In that moment, Poppy struck. She pushed herself up behind him, her wrists raw but untied, and held her arm around his neck. She twisted his arm back, braced it against her hip, and unhooked the gun from his back, pressing it against his temple. "Stay back," she said, her voice rough and dangerous. "If you come near me, I'll shoot. I swear I will."
Francis jumped out, striking the man in the jaw before he could react. He proceeded to knee the scout in the stomach as he fell. "There you are," he said, his voice strained. "I had a feeling this wouldn't be a great idea."
