"Well, it was," I say.
"I don't know. I used to believe that the experiences life throws at us shape us. Now I think that it's the way we cope with what life throws our way that shapes us."
"That's an interesting way to look at things," I murmur. My mind slips back to my own dark days, after my parents passed away. Saying I didn't cope well is an understatement. But I don’t want to think about my parents. I trained myself for years not to let my thoughts fly to them—to deflect my thoughts to something else when they threatened to recall something I wanted to forget. Perhaps this is why I managed so quickly to train myself not to think of Chris ever since we crashed in this forsaken place.
"So if you don't hold the Army responsible, why didn't you reenlist?"
He shrugs. "I didn't want that life anymore. When I met Celia, I was young and full of dreams, willing to sacrifice myself for the greater good. It's easy to be generous when you are happy. I'd lost both happiness and my ability to dream. And to be honest, the Army wasn't the place to do good like I once thought it was."
"Did you always want to be in the Army?"
"I thought of becoming a doctor, too. It was either that or the military. I chose the military on my seventeenth birthday." I admired him before, for his kindness and lack of fear. Now, I admire him even more. It takes immense inner strength to make such a decision. Especially at such a young age. "When I returned from the Army, I thought about enrolling at college, then trying for med school, but I felt too old for that."
"Do you still love Celia?"
"Nah. At some point I had fallen out of love with her as well, without realizing it. I clung to her because she embodied the hope for a normal life, and then I found out that hope didn't exist anymore."
Something crosses his features… like a shadow… so thick, it's almost like a veil. I realize I've seen this expression on him before. When he shot those arrows. When he tells me good night and retreats to the cockpit. The deep frown and the pained gaze were not as pronounced, but they were there. The signs of a man retreating into his shell. No, not his shell.
His hell.
I have the inexplicable urge to say something comforting to him, to put a smile on his face, because his torment bites at me as if it were my own. Before I have the chance to give it much thought, he forces the corners of his lips into a smile and says, "So I did pilot training and started working for Chris."
"Well, good for me. Who knows how long I would have survived if someone less trained for survival had been piloting."
"I say we should go scouting for something to poison the arrow tips right after we eat," Tristan says, and I nod in agreement. But when the bird and the roots are ready, we eat so quickly our stomachs hurt worse than they did from hunger, forcing us to rest for a few hours.
"Let's get going," Tristan says. "We won't get very far today because it'll get dark in about an hour, but any progress is better than none."
I nod. "Should we take a torch with us?"
"Yes."
I go inside the plane and rip another length from my wedding dress. Its designated role is providing fabric for torches now. The first few times, it felt like ripping my skin away. Like robbing myself of the thing that preserved my hope. But now I recognize the dress still embodies hope, albeit a different hope than before. Before, it meant fulfilling my dream of getting married. Now it fulfils my hope of staying alive and keeping beasts away.
Tristan dips the strip of fabric in our last drops of liquid animal fat and then wraps it around a branch, lighting it over the fire. Then we head into the forest. It's the first time in two weeks that Tristan goes farther than just past the first few trees. It's such a relief not having to go alone again. Just seeing him in front of me, with his strong arms and confident walk, makes me feel safer than a thousand torches or weapons would.
"What are we looking for?"
Tristan purses his lips. "Not sure. There are plenty of plants here that are poisonous, but there is no way we can tell if they are poisonous enough for what we need. Let's look for plants around which there are no other plants or many insects. That's a clear sign of strong poison."
We don't come across any plants that fulfil Tristan's criteria. I doubt there is an inch of this forest that isn't covered in insects. I do point out several plants with shiny leaves and one with spines where I stung myself on the cheek a few days ago. It gave me pain that rivalled a horror trip to the dentist. Tristan isn't satisfied with any of them. Eventually I stop pointing out things and leave him to inspect the plants on his own.
We return to the plane empty-handed, and when we're about to go to sleep, Tristan heads to the cockpit.
"What are you doing? I thought we agreed that you will sleep here."
Sighing, he says, "I hoped you'd forgotten about that."
"No chance. Get whatever you need from the cockpit and come here."
I put a pillow on the seat across the aisle in the same row as mine. "There," I tell Tristan when I hear him approach. It's very dark in the plane except for the few beams of moonlight streaming through the small windows, but I’ve gotten so used to the darkness I can tell where everything is without a doubt. "You'll rest much better here; you'll see."
"You're the one who won't rest, Aimee. Are you sure about this?"
"Absolutely."
After Tristan leans his seat back to a lying position, I move to the back of the plane and change into the dress I use as a nightgown. Though he can't see me, I still blush when I take off my clothes. I make a mental note to go in the cockpit to change tomorrow.