Dawn Chorus (Proxies x Reader)

First Camp

Evening comes at a crawl. The sun takes its time descending. People start to settle down as the sky turns more orange than blue. Tents are pitched, fires are set, large pyres that heat the air around them for several feet. Even the edge of the camp is sweltering hot. They'll burn all night for anyone who is lost and keep many of the beast, supernatural and otherwise, at bay. I don't buy the old wives' tale that monsters fear flame. I think it's the unpredictable people trying to control the unpredictable fire that is alarming.

Pitching tents and clattering supplies is replaced by the fires' crackles and rafts of voices tethering people into distinct pods even as we all brush shoulders and drift around each other. Some people roast backyard cookout foods, others heat cans of soup or beans, and others more try to roast fish they caught, measly little things only half cut and cleaned. It mingles with the odors of the soke and unwashed bodies, the dirt and pine, the exhaust from the highway a hill away and always rumbling and zipping. I can almost make out the distant streak of light from the constant line of cars through the thinnest places in the trees.

I linger back toward my tent, trace the holes in the canopy that remind me the sky is still there. Birds have livened up for their afternoon feeding, eating the early evening bugs and singing their goodnights. The earliest wakers of the night wildlife pitch their own voices in to the chorus. Crepuscular frogs and crickets. Mostly, its a background hum to the commotion of the camp, the last rays of joviality and socialization before the sky greys and deepens to blue. Then we will fall silent. Then we will run.

The foolish waste energy skipping and dancing. I spot Camilla weaving through them. Her dreads are tied loosely with a ribbon up and away from her face. She's put two bright orange slashes over her dark eyes on each side. They match the orange slashes on her dark shirt. Even out of hunting season, she risks the splashes of bright color. She won't let anyone defend themselves shooting her by saying they thought she was a deer.

"Mason said you needed help with your tent," she calls once she is near, "but it looks good to me." She stops a few feet from my set up, leaning her weight to one side and crossing her arms over her chest. "Is everything alright?"

I shrug, not meeting her eyes. "Wasn't expecting it to be so busy."

"You mean you weren't expecting it to be loud. That's first camp for you. I'm sorry you weren't informed that second camp was in a different location." She sighs and drops to a crouch in front of me.

"Nah, it's fine. I won't be here long."

"Are you leaving with first run or second?"

"Maybe earlier, maybe in between. I don't want to head out with a group."

"That isn't a good idea in this location, but I'm not going to try to change your mind. Mason and I are going out first run. He'll lead the group and I'll check the edges, see if we can flush out some trouble and stay on top of it this time."

"This time?"

"We lost a participant last month. It was a waterfront run. He breached Sadie's boarder, and the ocean took him. Well, that's the official story anyway. No one saw it happen, but Sadie is pretty sure it was some sea monster. Not going to let that happen again. This is a pretty high activity area, but I think we amuse the monsters. No one has been picked off for years and we usually get at least one sighting."

"So Sadie is taking the second run? It's her first solo, I hope it goes well."

"Thanks, I'll let her know you said that." Camilla reaches out and gently passes her hand across the top of my head, putting just enough pressure to lightly pull it to the side. "I'm sure you'll see a monster this time. Don't waste your energy getting all antsy back here." She glances back at the life of the camp. "Its safe and people are just trying to blow off steam and handle their anxiety. Things will be better suited to your taste actually in the forest. Now," she says as she pops back up into a standing position, "I have a run to coordinate, and you have an attitude to righten."

"I don't have an attitude."

"You don't? Maybe it's just your eyes," she jokes. "I wouldn't let Sadie see that, you'd sink her spirits."

I roll my eyes but can't help the smile cracking on my face. "Get back to work, Camilla." I hesitate a moment before adding, "maybe the four of us could go to breakfast in the morning, after the run? To celebrate Sadie's first solo guide, of course?"

I finally look up to meet Camilla's eyes. She's smiling a close lipped, crooked smile.

"Yeah," she says, "we can. To celebrate Sadie."

I wave as Camilla struts off back into the camp. People move out of her way without even noticing, like they can't help but giving her the space that she deserves. Six years organizing a few runs a year, making the events safer after the initial spike in deaths when people started getting too bold, she's more than earned the way the camp moves smoothly and seamlessly around her. I guess her natural magnetism helps. I roll back my shoulders and lean into the tree behind me. The bark gently scrapes my skin through the protective layer of cloth. I try to roll the tension out of my body, working from my toes up, shifting one joint at a time. I have to restart more than once, but I calm enough to loosen my jaw and drop my shoulders.

Holes in the canopy are like natural skylights. I feel sheltered despite the lack of barrier between me and the rest if the world. It breaks up the vast, cloudless sky so it is small, digestible. I should have made more friends at these runs. Maybe all the fun would bother me less if I had my own crowd to be boisterous with, or more directly view the boisterous behavior while sitting quiet on a stump. An evening breeze slips between the trees, runs across my torso. I shut my eyes for a light rest before evening comes.

"Damn, sleepy head!" A loud thunk echoes by my ears bark vibrates beneath my head.

My eyes snap open. I jerk up violently, nerves alight to move as fast as possible. Shadows sweep and swirl in battle with the flickering firelight. Mason stoops over me, foot against the bark he kicked inches from me. I can smell the new leather, shoes not yet worn in. I straighten up, pick the stiff leaves and twigs from my hair.

"No response?"

"I'm waking up," I tell Mason.

I roll my shoulders. They crackle and pop. Then I twist and stretch my spine, the muscles stretching around my back and sides. My vision is a little bleary. The contrast of the deep dark of the woods and the fuzzy light of the flames are too much for my dozing mind to sort out.

"First run hasn't left yet?" My mouth feels sticky, throat dry.

"We are leaving now. Camilla suggested waking you before we go in case you changed you mind and want to join us."

I shake my head and it feels like an earthquake inside my skull. I hop up from the ground and the world spins as my sense of balance recalibrates.

"Napped too well?" Mason snickers.

"Still recovering," I mumble.

It's hard to process the words and line up a response. Grogginess sits in my head like stagnant water, foul and heavy, sloshing with every movement. My body is warm but knotted from my muscles tightening against the hardness of the ground. I shake out my limbs, roll and pop joints, while Mason quietly watches.

"Ok." His voice is softer now. "Take your time and head out when your ready. We'll see you out there."

He pats my shoulder as he walks past me and a bit to the left. A small group is waiting for him, wide eyed and jittery. New runners. They'll be back before midnight, here or maybe even base camp to rest the night away. Most wear shorts and t-shirts, a spattering of colors that don't quite fade into the dark. Mason takes the lead of them. Camilla stands behind, ready to help any stragglers as they start. She'll establish a watch and boarder once they get started. She hops slightly from foot to foot, channeling all that energy bubbling up. She shoots me a smile as the group begins to slip away at a light jog, bundled up like a heard of prey animals. Then they are all gone.

The rest of the camp has gone quiet. A few people sit around fires whispering conversations. I watch their lips move against the orange background of flame. A few older people run between the pyres keeping them glowing large and bright. They burn old wood, dry wood, to limit the smoke. Ash spirals like snow moving back to the sky. Most will leave with second run, stay out until dawn or a little longer. Unease starts to settle in my stomach again. Too warm, too lively, too bright. I sink into the cool blue of the night forest.

Time to start my run.