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Jack, more often than not and more than most, found comfort in the cold. It kept his sense sharp, kept his skin tingling and alive. In the dark nights out in the middle of how-the-hell-do-they-know, when they shouldn't be moving but when they had to anyway, the icy bite of frigid air made him move a little faster, think a little quicker. He preferred, more than ever these days, the cold.
So they could keep their stupid rotten campfire. He hoped it made them all real happy and sweaty.
Red-headed and dirty-faced from the salvage run she had left for early in the morning and from which the two of them had only returned a few hours ago, Merida sat with her back to her truck and her bony knees huddled close to the fire she'd stoked into life. She was a little too far away to hear clearly, which didn't really matter, because the dame was completely incomprehensible anyway. All "can you nae be such a knob" this and "shut your gapin' geggie" that, it was like someone had taken the english language and half melted it down so that it was mostly burbly soup with some chunky bits leftover. But there she was, chatting away anyway, her thin calloused fingers splaying out in front of her to emphasize some soupy point in her soupy story. Her brothers, trouble in triplicate, gasped and laughed as needed, occasionally jumping in with unhearable comments. And then there was Mary, sandwiched in-between Hubert and Hamish. Mary, who had very pointedly gone to sit with the group after Jack had made it clear he wasn't interested in joining the happy fun-time fire circle. Mary, his little sister, laughing with her. Jack eyeballed her out of the corner of his eye, and rolled some tension out of his shoulder.
He'd injured it during the day's scavenge when a small group of infected had shown up in what was supposed to be a fairly quarantined area. Merida was neck deep searching the convenience store they'd found for whatever else was left, and couldn't hear him, so he'd taken care of it himself. Four infected down for the count: one with a bullet to the head, one face stomped into dirt, another's arm ripped mushily off, and another broken against a gaspump. Unfortunately the last one, a huge brute that just wouldn't go down, managed to get his hands on Jack and slam him up against the storefront's concrete frame. He might have been missing his jaw, but he still had all his top teeth so if Merida hadn't finally emerged and cracked his skull into oatmeal with a lifted cash register, Jack might've been done for.
He tried to burn holes in the back of Merida's head. Jack was certain she'd made a point of getting her side of the story across at their little fun sharing circle. She'd want them to know how she'd had to pull his ass out of the fire again. She'd certainly spent enough time on the way back reminding him.
Hamish tugged on his sister's sleeve and whispered something into the tangle of her hair. Jack blatantly stared at this point, but when Merida whipped around to stare him dead in the eye, he snapped his head back around so fast he could feel his neck bones click together. Despite concentrating all his mental energy critically observing the super interesting patch of dirt under his feet, he still heard her clear her throat. He dragged his gaze back up to her. She had her face carefully set in neutral and one finger pointed straight at the empty spot next to her. Jack pulled a face and dug his heels into the ground. Merida's eyebrow shot up into her hairline. She jabbed at the seat once, all I'm not gonna ask again.
Jack stood stiffly, and jammed his hands into his jacket pouch. He felt like he was walking towards the principal's office, shifting through his mental codex of reasons he had to trip that kid or why he felt justified in snatching an extra pudding cup from the lunch line. He made it to the campfire without a word and sat down where Merida indicated. She leveled her eyes at him, round and sharp. This close, he could see her eyelashes - almost invisible in the sun, they glinted red-gold in the light of the fire. Jack squared his shoulders and returned her gaze, ready for whatever she was about to dish out - och, didja know this one here near shot himself in the foot? - ah, Jack, why nae tell us all aboot - oh, no, wait, that was Canadian - about yer particularly feminine scream around the second gas station - shouldn't he just stay home with you kids and let a real hero take care of you all?
Merida narrowed her eyes, and seemed to study his face. Then she spoke.
"So, children-" Jack inhaled thickly.
"Jack here was real brave today." She clapped him heavily on the back and all the air went rushing back out. "Kept watch while I scurried for those marshmallows you're stuffing your faces with right now, and took out a whole clutch of skullmunchers all on his own. Didn't get to see that part my own self but I did surely hear it. Tell 'em about it, Jack."
"Yeah, tewwuhs!" Said Hamish gamely around a mouthful. Mary's eyes shined next to him, and she smiled at her big brother.
"Please?" She said. Jack blinked and ran his tongue over his teeth. He looked once more at Merida, eyebrow raised. He found her face still edged, but softer - her lip quirked up into her fat cheek. Her hand lifted at last off his back.
"G'wan then, Jack. Give us a story."
His mouth hung open for a second.
"...Yeah, ah - right, so: you know how bad these guys smell at a distance? That's nothing compared to their breath-"
The fire a warm comfort on his face, he leaned in to the circle.