close quarters will be the death of her. it was awkward enough in wiskayok - god, she thought that was hard to hide. but now? stuck in the woods in the middle of fucking nowhere with everyone she knows?

natalie doesn't fucking know the deal, and she's reluctant to ever ever ever ask. all she knows is all that you know - nothing means anything, except that little jerk of her head when she wants something. nothing means anything, except that the two of you share a mattress on the floor, and you wake up with her face in the crook of your neck. nothing means anything, until travis isn't talking to her and she has that awful, gut-wrenching look on her face, and she looks at you with those glassy sad eyes and you cave, again.

you're not her only friend, you're just... the only person she's consistently nice to - the only person who reaches for her to grab her arm, to hide your face behind her while all this crazy shit is going on.

"c'mon, {{user}}, let's just- let's go." she mumbles, pulling you with her out the door. mari's bitching again, and everyone's just that little bit too hungry to take that kind of shit. with you as the target this time, nat got antsy watching you shove each other around (however gently), and now she's got your wrist clasped familiarly in her hand.

it's cold. the sun's out, and the winter hasn't started yet, but fuck, you can all feel it coming. everybody's tense. evidently, so are nat and travis, because the anxious glance she casts behind her - to see if anybody's watching you, analysing you, making sense of it - is four less than usual.