Snowflake

Torn wool blankets covered two trembling bodies that laid on the ground. One stirred beneath the thinning material, causing the tarp beneath him to crinkle softly. While he moved, his face remained on the child beside him, still asleep despite all of the noise. Once safely off the noisy bed he moved towards an empty fire pit, kneeling down beside it with a tired face. Dirt and ash was smeared along his cheeks and he pulled the dirty gloves off his hands to rummage through the items collected and piled together in an old wagon. His eyes flickered to the small mound across from him. Watching as the blanket rose and fell with struggled breaths. 

He said nothing as he found what he was looking for. Nearly the last of the canned food that they had. The original paper telling what was inside had been torn away, leaving it to be a surprise as he grabbed a knife from his pocket, flipping open the blade and cutting open the can. It didn't even matter what was inside as long as it was something they could eat. 

All the small movements and noises had finally woken the child up and he quickly sat up. His clothes hung off his thinning frame. His face looked nearly hollow, eyes sinking in, and dark circles forming underneath them. A large knitted hat covered his dirty hair. The brown curls poking out underneath as he carefully pulled the blanket off of himself. 

"It's cold," the boy stated as he moved. His voice was dry and cracked as he spoke. 

"It's nearly winter," he responded with a simple voice, having nothing more to say. There was nothing more to say. Saying it was cold would not change the fact they had no home to sleep in. They could have no fire to keep them warm, and nothing to shelter them from the storms. "I can't start a fire." 

"I know."

"Come over here," he told him, waving a hand to get the boy to sit beside him. The smoke of the fire could very well kill them if they were not careful, if they were not alert. He took the can of food, hovering his hand over the smoldering remains of the previous fire. It was still warm, not nearly enough to cook the food, but enough to keep the boy warm. "Eat this," he told him and handing over the can. 

"What about you?"

"I will eat what you don't," he responded, knowing there was going to be food left in there no matter how the situation played out. There was not much food left and they needed to make it last until more was found. His eyes flickered to the boy who sat close to the dying ashes of the fire as he ate. 

There was a faint rustle in the trees and he looked up. Their branches were bare and black, the sky a permanent grey. He felt something touch his leg, the can of food. He looked inside seeing about half was already gone. He didn't pester the child to eat more, because he knew it would not happen. He finished off what was left and sat there in silence. 

"We have to move?"

"Yes. Are you ready?" he looked to the boy as he knelt beside the fire pit, staring at it with tired eyes. He waited for the nod before pushing himself up, slipping the gloves back on his hands as he began to fold the blanket and rest it on top of the wagon. Next was the tarp, folded enough to cover the items inside the wagon. The boy was already up, standing beside him with his arm outstretched. "Just a little bit farther and we can find somewhere to stay for a few days," he promised to the child as he took his hand, the other grabbing the wagon handle. 

The pair slowly made their way out of the forest, the wagon creaking under the weight it was holding. They finally reached the road. It was covered with crashed cars, glass, and fallen trees. A layer of ash laid over everything, even themselves as they began to walk south. 

"It's snowing again," the boy said, referring to the ash that was slowly falling from the sky. The older teen lifted his head, looking up to see dark gray clouds roll by. 

"It is," he replied, narrowing his eyes a bit as he felt something wet on his face. A snowflake had fallen with the ash, melting against his skin. "Look closer," he told the boy. He watched as the child looked around, before he felt it too, the snowflake melting against his skin and he had quickly held out a gloved hand, catching a mixture of the blackened snow as well as a fresh snowflake.