Notes: This was my entry for Resbang 2018, initially posted on AO3 for my official posting, I'm putting it over here as well now that the event is finished. Big thank yous to my artist Sig, whose art can be viewed from the Resbang jackpot on Grigori Wings. Content warnings for explicit material and alcohol consumption

Maka has always been one for grand gestures of independence. Separation never bothered her from kindergarten to college, but this might be a new level and she's trying hard to convince herself it isn't a mistake. What's a girl to do when she graduates in June and her new lease in a new city doesn't start until September? Most people her age would tell her to stay with her parents for a couple months and live rent free for one last easy summer, but not Maka. It wouldn't work even if she wanted to. Her mom was in London in a tiny studio working a crazy journalist schedule. And her dad was… her dad.

She could stay with her dad for a couple months. It would be easy. It would be settling. It would be against everything Maka has been trying to tell him for the last four years, resisting help at every turn of the road since she turned eighteen.

The first alternative she had jumped to was a two-month long backpacking trip from Reno to Portland to fill the space. Not couchsurfing. Not subletting. What the hell was she thinking?

It's not like she isn't prepared. She's gone camping before. She has all the gear. She's in shape. She knows what she's doing. It's never been for this long before, though, and never alone.

Maka pulls her map out to have something else to focus on. Quitting isn't part of her vocabulary and she's not about to admit that this is a huge undertaking. She keeps walking while tracing her route with her eyes. Twelve miles a day for this section. It's not a rigorous pace - leaves lots of room for mishaps that may occur along the trail. The only problem if she gets ahead of schedule will be if her restock packages haven't arrived yet.

The toe of her boot gets snagged on a root and Maka feels the sickening sensation of falling for about half a second before she catches herself. It would sure be something if she sprained her ankle two days into her trip and was stranded in the Tahoe National Forest. She puts the map away. The trail is rugged enough to require more of her attention and she can't forget the fact that she is entirely alone in the wilderness.

Part of her is surprised she hasn't run into any other people yet; there had been plenty of people on the Greyhound from Reno to Sacramento but no one else had deboarded in the town of Truckee, California. Then again, she's starting midway through the trail and midway through the season. The absence of strangers doesn't bother Maka, though, it's the absence of spoken language that needles her.

"If it's like this two days in, it's going to be a long couple months," she says to herself. Hearing her own voice with no reply might be worse than the quiet. She walks until the sun is behind the mountains. The sky is still light this time of mid summer, but it feels more like twilight without the light hitting the ground. The crickets start up their evening orchestra and Maka stops to make camp.

She runs into the first sign of other people on the third day: a family out for a day hike with their dog and a rambunctious four-year-old. They stand off the side of the trail as she walks by. Maka wishes they would let the dog say hello but knows they're trying to be polite. Something bumps into her thighs. The kid has walked straight into her trying to kick a pinecone.

"Excuse me." Maka smiles. Child does not. Child stares in the way only children can.

"Oh no, excuse us. Sorry. Come here, dear," the parents bumble, tugging their kid away and down the path.

On the fourth day she takes a detour to Gold Lake for a swim and to remind herself there are in fact other people in the world. She pays the campsite fee and settles in early. The longest backpacking trip she's gone on in the past was a week long and it was with a class so the teacher and teaching assistants had prepared a lot of the logistics. Now that she's on her own she has to figure out how to do everything on her own.

Collecting everything she needs for a little basic hygiene, she fills up her water bottles with water from the lake and sneaks into the woods. Water, clothes, biodegradable detergent go into a ziplock and are shaken vigorously. Rinse and repeat. She lays her (relatively) cleaner clothes out to dry near her tent and heads for the lake. There are a few people skinny dipping right near the campsites but Maka picks her way along the shoreline until she's out of sight to strip down. Baby wipes have kept her feeling mostly human the last few days but it feels good to rinse the grime out of her hair.

She goes to sleep to the sound of quiet voices and a crackling fire against the backdrop of woods and mountains.

Still air fills her lungs as she starts the walk back to the trail. It's a couple miles along a road but there's no car traffic to speak of. There is however a strange man standing on the side of the road, eyebrows wrinkled and eyes casting about. Maka could be a good samaritan and ask if he needs help but she's not in the habit of talking to old men while alone in the woods. She crosses the street.

"Hey there."

Maka flinches and makes sure she can feel her bear spray in the outside pocket of her backpack. "...Yes?"

"I'm trying to get back to the PCT trailhead, I haven't missed it, have I?"

She squints at him from across the narrow road. He looks harmless enough, and potentially younger than she thought despite his silvered hair. "No, it's still about another mile ahead," she says. Doesn't offer to walk him there. Wouldn't want him getting the idea she's looking for a hiking buddy.

"Thanks." He hesitates, steps from one foot to the other. Maka holds still and waits for him to take the hint to keep walking. She doesn't need the sensation of being followed even if she knows it's some scrawny slouching slacker. Then it comes: "Are you headed that way?"

Maka has a practiced response for this type of situation. "I am, but I would prefer to walk alone."

She expects a rebuttal, a plea to just give him a chance. Anything. But he just shrugs and starts to meander along. He sets an infuriatingly slow pace; it's not even worth it to walk that slow so Maka steps off into the woods and dumps her backpack from her shoulders to pull out a snack. An hour later she gets up. That should be enough of a head start as long as she keeps her pace steady.

"Fingers crossed he's headed southbound," she mutters.

The next section of trail is a steep climb and Maka's blood pumps in her ears as she pushes forward step by step. She would kick herself for forgetting to fill up on water when she left the lake. There should be a pond not far off the trail just another half a mile ahead if she keeps pushing. Eyes peeled for water on the left side of the trail, she almost trips again and vows to stop shuffling her feet. If only her boots weren't so goddamn heavy.

A gap in the trees, a flash of bright sun on water. Maka has her sights set on fresh water until another flash of something bright catches her eye. It's the shambling layabout with the white hair. If he's stopping for a break this would be the perfect chance to get ahead of him and be done with it, but she's not going to make it up to McRae Ridge without at least a liter of water. She'll just swoop in there, fill up, and run the UV purifier while she walks.

Busting through the bushes, dual Nalgenes in hand, she dunks both water bottles into the pond with her eyes still glued to her unwanted trail partner. He's staring off into space in the opposite direction, so maybe if she's quick enough he won't even notice. Thirty-two ounce water bottles are slightly heavier when full than empty, however. Maka miscalculates the grip required to keep them in hand and drops them both into the pond with a splash that disturbs the peace of the entire forest.

The man looks over. Maka had still been staring at him when she destroyed her sense of dignity and doesn't have time to look away. It's all or nothing. Maintaining eye contact for the intimidation factor, she fumbles for the bottles, gives a small nod, and backs her way back towards the trail. She has to stop to put the lids back on but she waits until she's far enough along the trail to be safely out of sight, resulting in a lot of splashing. It's fine. This is fine.

When she does stop to get her life in order, she examines the water she had acquired. Dropping the bottles so close to the edge must have disturbed the pond floor because her water is now murky. Oh well - a little dirt never hurt anyone. As long as she purifies it properly so she doesn't contract giardia. She'll get a little further head start before she dares to stop again, though. If she gets far enough she should never have to face her shame again.

A couple very thirsty miles down the trail, she stops to pull her purifier from it's home in the outermost pocket of her backpack and remembers what she forgot yesterday afternoon. It blinks a sad, empty red blink. No battery.

Deep breath. She has options. She's not going to die this second. She has a solar charger. It's buried a little further down in her backpack so she ends up strewing a fair number of things around to get to it. Her phone has been staying turned off for emergencies so Maka hasn't used the charger yet, but it shouldn't be too hard to use. With a little rearranging and finagling carabiners, she gets it hooked onto the top of her backpack so she should be able to keep walking. The path is fairly shaded here but once she gets a little higher up there should be more sun. She may be thirsty but she's at no risk for dehydration. Mama was always a big proponent of the 'no pain no gain' philosophy.

There's a long downhill stretch into a valley and Maka has to restrain herself from sprinting; carrying a fifty pound backpack, the downs could be as bad for her knees as the ups. She trudges with a spring in her step. Something like a voice calls down the wind but when she turns she sees nothing but trees up the hill behind her. Could be an elk.

The good days can't last forever. For every valley there must be a mountain and now she must pay the price for her relaxing descent: A thousand foot climb over the last mile to the peak. Maka sweats just looking at it. Sunset isn't for hours - she can take it as slow as she wants. And by the time she reaches the top she should have a full battery and can take a well deserved water break.

One foot after the other.

"Hey!" Maka whips around. From down the side of the mountain, a familiar face.

"I'm not looking for hiking company," she shouts back over the wind and picks up her pace.

"That's not it!"

She can tell he's breathing heavily. There shouldn't be any problem losing him unless he's determined enough to catch up with her after hours. That's what bear spray is for. She starts power striding up the hill despite the complaints of her dry throat and trembling legs.

"Seriously, wait up." He's jogging with his goddamn backpack on - he can't possibly be human.

Maka tries to mentally check if her bear spray is easily accessible. "If I listen to what you have to say will you leave me the hell alone?"

He holds something up. "Is this yours?"

It's her solar charger.

"Oh, um. Yeah. Shoot." She reaches for it, fumbles, drops it on the ground, bends over. Her backpack slides forward and smacks her in the back of the head. Her grace and intimidation stats continue to drop. "It must've fallen off my backpack, I was trying to charge while I was walking," she says. Pressing the battery check, it looks like it at least has enough juice to power up her purifier; this earnest-looking sweaty man with a bandana tied around his neck is turning her dry throat into the Sahara.

"I know you want to be left alone - it just looked like something you would probably need." His boots scuff the dusty path.

"Thanks," Maka croaks. She needs water now. With a resigned sigh she unclips her backpack and slings it to the side of the path. Once her knees bend the exhaustion of hiking dehydrated all day hits so she sits down before she falls down.

"You okay?"

She wishes he would just leave and quit the concerned good samaritan act; men never want nothing for something. "I'm fine," she grits out. "Just need to purify my water."

Maka plugs the purifier into the charger and takes one of her water bottles to the side. Her spectator's face visibly contorts. "You're not going to drink that are you?"

"What?" She shakes the murky bottle. "A little dirt never hurt anyone - the UV will take care of the bacteria."

"I don't know how much light is gonna get through. That looks damn near opaque," he mutters.

"It'll be fine," she replies, words measured, voice flat. The purifier powers. Drinkable, if not clean, water in sights, Maka is about to dip it in when-

"You know there were mosquito larvae in that pond, right?"

No. Of course she didn't. No one in their right mind would willingly ingest the devil's spawn. She must be ascending this dude's crazy meter by the second. There's some slim chance he's pulling her leg, but, sarcastic as he is, she doubt's it's a lie. Still, Maka lifts the bottle to eye level to see what her heart already knows is there. If there was much in her stomach she would've vomited but instead she just gags and tells herself she would've noticed before she actually drank any.

"Here." He hands her a hydro flask. So, he's annoying and rich - what delightful company she's acquired.

She doesn't take the bottle from his hand. "How do I know you didn't roofie this?"

He wears skeptical nonchalance with grace, raising an eyebrow. "You think I would bring roofies into the wilderness and then put them in my own water bottle?"

"Maybe you just put it in to give to unsuspecting damsels in distress you happen upon on the trail." She spits the phlegm from her throat much less gracefully than he composes his stupid chiseled features.

The man takes a long drink himself.

"Maybe you just like roofies," she grumbles.

"Hey now, I may have smoked a little weed in college but I don't think anyone enjoys being drugged unconscious." He's getting annoyed now. "There isn't another water source for another couple miles down from the peak, and that's assuming you make it to the top."

She doesn't respond.

"I would say take it or leave it, but I don't want to be the last person to have seen you when they find your dried out body in the woods." He nudges the water bottle against the side of her face like a child demanding attention for their macaroni art project.

Reluctant as she is to take a drink from a stranger, he's right that she doesn't have many choices. The human body can survive a couple days without water but strenuous hiking with a backpack is likely to shorten that window. Finally she swallows some of the water along with her pride.

"I'm Soul, by the way," the man says, taking another drink himself and screwing back on the lid.

"Thanks for the water, Cole." Can't have him getting too comfortable.

If he caught her mistake he doesn't comment, nor does he ask for her name. "I'm assuming you want a head start again?"

"No." Maka sighs. "You go ahead." Even with a little more water in her system she's not about to be moving very fast.

Soul nods and starts back up the hill. Maka waits for him to be reasonably out of sight before pouring both bottles of water out, watching the flood rush down the mountain before it gets sucked up by the thirsty earth. If only she could do the same. She looks at her map while she bides her time. Worst comes to worst there is a stream a few hundred feet off trail close to the top. It would mean climbing her way back up and who knows what the conditions are like but it's something to focus on.

When a suitable amount of time has passed she starts marching up the hill again. It's rocky and tough going but she's tough too. Mama didn't raise a quitter. She walks and she sweats and she walks some more. The air is getting a little cooler as she climbs in altitude. It's cooler, but also a little thinner - not enough to make it hard to breathe, but just enough to make hiking uphill a nightmare. She doesn't want to look ahead because she doesn't want to see how much further she has to go. But then, her boot crunches down on something she hadn't expected.

Snow. Maka thought by leaving mid-June and avoiding the higher elevation peaks further south in California she would have avoided it, but here it is. It's not deep, and the trail is still accessible, but it's there. She's so hot she scoops up a handful and rubs it on her wrists and her neck, flinching at the cold but enjoying it all the same. Only when it melts and runs down her arms does she remember that snow is also water. It's by no means fresh but it doesn't look awful either. She's certainly still going to use her purifier but it's a big step up from mosquito water.

Greedily packing both bottles with snow she returns to the task at hand with renewed vigor. She'll still have to wait for it to actually melt to drink but she might as well keep moving.

Maka reaches the top of the ridge later in the afternoon than she had hoped, but she's there. Her snow water is still a slurry of water and bits of ice and a little dirt. That'll do. She lets the purifier do its work. Then drinks too much at once and gets a brain freeze. This day has really got it out for her. At least she's not going to die with the last person she spoke to being Soul McSarcasm.

She still has to get a ways down the mountain to find a snow-free place to set up camp for the night. By time she does find a good spot, the sun is getting low in the sky, which is not a good sign for being so close to the solstice. The light of another campfire blinks through the trees, undoubtedly Soul.

Maka sleeps lightly knowing someone else isn't too far away but she does sleep. He seems about as harmless as a stranger can be.

Two days later and Maka has kept her distance from Soul. Which is infuriating because making sure she doesn't cross him on the trail again means staying behind his pace which is slower than she'd like. She knows it's working because she can see his fire in the distance at night, but at what cost? Last night they had even ended up staying at the same campground which meant Maka had to wait until odd hours of the night to use the bathroom, because she wasn't about to let him know she had followed him. Joke's on her for trusting that he was following the trail when he was heading off for amenities. She won't admit how nice it is to pee in a toilet again.

She had planned on sneaking out of the campsite ahead of him to get back ahead on the trail but he must've gotten an early start too because she almost had a run in. Earlier that morning she had spotted Soul when they were still on the road and immediately took a dive into the bushes to make sure he didn't spot her. She's a disaster.

It's a beautiful day, and the forest is calm with the sound of birds, but a creeping sensation inches up Maka's neck all the same. She had forgotten the unease she had woken up with when she had her incident. Now that misgiving settles back into her gut like a shot of tequila.

Maka picks up the pace.

Catching up to Soul takes even less time than she expected. The layabout isn't even walking, he's sitting off the side of the trail adjusting the straps of his backpack like that's going to make it any lighter. He glances up at her as she approaches.

"What's up?" His voice is low, smooth, carefully casual.

Maka tightens her ponytail. "Oh, nothing." She hates how out of breath she sounds. "Just got a weird feeling on the trail."

"So you're coming to me for protection?" The corner of Soul's mouth twitches and she catches a flash of a dimple, so brief she could have imagined it.

"No," she huffs. "But if there's a bear behind me, I want you between me and it."

"Harsh," Soul says. "Leaving me to the bears."

Maka glares at him but he's not much one for eye contact so it takes her a good minute to get his attention. "Seriously though, do you ever get the feeling that you're being followed?"

"Sure," he answers. "The last couple days you've been on my ass."

She can't stand witty people. Intelligence and dedication have always been admirable traits in her book, but glib wittiness has the potential to send people to her blacklist before they can call foul. Still. He's been close enough to hurt her and far away enough from civilization for no one to find out. Maka doesn't deign to answer.

"I would suggest we walk together a bit," Soul says, his eyes finally meeting hers for any length of time. She had thought they were brown but up close they're closer to burgundy, almost like a red wine. "If," he continues, "you weren't so opposed to the idea of company."

Maybe I'm just opposed to your company. Maka almost says it aloud. But she trusts her gut and if there's someone or something behind them on the trail, her sense of self-preservation has to come above her dignity. "You walk so slow, I have to get ahead of you some time anyway."

"Why didn't you say so sooner." Soul stands up. Apparently his backpack straps are to his satisfaction.

She's just relieved that he takes this as an acceptable hint and doesn't feel the need to drag her off her high horse yet. The mosquito water incident has left her low and her ego has a long climb ahead.

The trail isn't wide enough to hike side by side, and Maka's not interested in walking and talking anyway. So she follows behind Soul, much as she has been for the last couple days, but now she's close enough to smell the scent of campfire and bug spray. It's surprisingly not a bad combination. She doesn't want to think about what she probably smells like but it's not like anyone can expect anything at midday several miles into a hike. The hairs stand up on the back of her neck but the source of her anxiety is definitely behind her on the trail, not in front.

"Switch spots with me." Soul smoothly spins around her and nudges her in front of him on the trail.

Maka goes along with it because all of her energy right now is focused on attuning herself to her surroundings, but she doesn't understand Soul's intentions until a couple minutes later. Faint voices drift up the trail.

Soul leans forward, putting a hand on her backpack for a second to get close to her ear. "I have something in mind but it might be easier if I knew your name."

His voice seems to drop an extra half-octave when he whispers and it doesn't help Maka's chill. "Make one up," she grits out, picking up her pace.

"Okay, Beatrice," Soul says.

"Not convincing considering I'm not an eighty year old woman."

"Maude."

"Close enough."

Whoever is behind them is getting closer; they've stopped talking but Maka can hear their footsteps in time with her own. Soul gives her a little more space and raises his voice a little, just loud enough to sound convincingly Not Fake. "Hey Maude, did Blaine say how far ahead they would wait for us to catch up?"

Improvising isn't exactly her strongest trait but Maka is smart and quick to pick things up. "He just mentioned camping by water."

"Feather River might be a good spot, I'll let him know we'll be there soon." He pulls a phone out of his pocket, even though he can't possibly have service out here, then abruptly stands off the side of the path while holding his fake conversation.

Three men trudge past them, the first pausing for a second to glance over them before rolling his shoulders and pressing forward. They aren't carrying much gear but Maka catches the outline of a handgun in the backpocket of the man in front.

"Yeah, we're just a couple miles out." Soul says into his phone. "Tell Killik I'm looking forward to that famous trout."

Now he's fabricating not one but two fake members of their party. The prowlers turn back one last time before deciding they're not worth it and moving along.

Once they're safely out of earshot Maka lets the breath she was holding. She's confident in her self-defense skills but those odds wouldn't have been in her favor, especially not knowing how Soul would fare under pressure. Though her impression of him is quickly rising with the fact that he just dodged any sort of situation to begin with.

"I saw those guys prowling around digging through tents at Little Grass," Soul mutters, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Who are Blaine and Killik?" Maka asks, immediately regretting it. Dumb adrenaline making her ask dumb questions.

He shrugs. "Just a couple guys I knew in college - I was just pulling names to take the target off our backs."

"That was smart." It hurts to admit that she didn't think of it herself. "By the time they get to Feather River it probably won't be worth it to them to hike all the way back here."

"I hope so," Soul says. Maka realizes that his knees are shaking too and maybe she's not the only one freaking out a little. He looks up, eyes a little desperate. "How do you feel about sticking together for a little longer?"

Thank god. She nods, relief flooding her veins, anxiety replaced with a growing curiosity around a Skype call with the only Blaine she knows complaining about how lame his punk vampire roommate is. Doesn't quite sound like Soul.

They end up setting up camp not too much further along, neither one of them keen on catching up with the marauders. There's safety in numbers but Maka also doesn't have the energy to socialize after hiking all day and looking death in the eye. She pitches her tent far away enough from Soul to send a message and he doesn't question it. Now she just has to settle in and figure out how to relax. Maybe warm food will help.

A twig snaps and her heart rate doubles until she hears the accompanying voice.

"Hey, um…" Soul calls out, leaving a blank where she could fill in her name.

She doesn't. "What do you want? You can't have any of my oatmeal," she says.

"I wasn't-"

"You were eyeing it." Maka waves her spoon as threateningly as one can.

Staredowns are right up her alley, but Soul has a practiced apathy that makes her not even want to try. She attends to her pot.

"I was just-" Soul starts.

Maka looks up, daring him to finish.

"I was going to ask if you wanted any zip-ties." He reaches out a hand as if to a skittish deer. It takes a second to sink in what the purpose would be but when it does, Maka takes them from him with wide eyes. "It won't keep someone out forever if they have a knife, but it'll buy you time."

"I have a knife," Maka says casually.

Soul nods and retreats back to his own tent. It wasn't intended as a threat; a knife is a normal tool to carry camping. It still doesn't hurt to have a little fear on her her side and intimidation doesn't come easy when you don't stand much higher than five feet.

She sleeps with her bear spray in one hand, and her knife in the other. It couldn't hurt to stick with Soul for one more day.

It's quiet in the morning when she wakes up. Her travelling companion must be a late riser. Maka's desire to get an early start is now at war with her herd instinct, which is already fighting her sense of pride. What's a girl to do? She'll stay in her tent for another twenty minutes and if he's not up when she comes out, she'll be on her way. There's a chance she'll just walk at a snail's pace to give him a chance to catch up. As long as he gets the picture that you snooze, you lose.

Rain-flies have an uncanny ability to create a small-scale greenhouse effect. The sun starts to warm the air in her tent to sticky, uncomfortable levels, and Maka shimmies out of her sleeping bag to face the day. She'll just check to see if Soul is still sleeping before she packs up camp and hits the trail. Birds warble and fill the cool mountain morning; Maka picks her way through the underbrush to Soul's campsite. She's careful with her feet; if he's not already up that's his problem and she won't wake him, be it on purpose or accident. The smell of coffee hits her nostrils though, and she realizes she may have miscalculated her newfound trail buddy.

"G'morning," he says, raising his tin cup to his lips.

Maka gapes. His tent is packed up, his pack open but consolidated. How did he-? Without waking her-? Even now he moves silently around his camp stove to collect the last of his things.

"Are you ready to go?" Soul asks, eyebrows crinkling to an expression Maka can't place as amusement or annoyance.

She starts backing towards her own tent. "Just give me a minute."

That asshat, he hadn't been that far off, she should've been able to hear him going about his morning. Maybe the birds were just extra loud that morning - her senses can't be that dulled. And now she's the one rushing to get ready when she could've used her morning to make some food or wash her hair. He had asked if she was ready to go like he expected them to hike together again; she should just start walking the other direction and be rid of him. But, she had been working on the same assumption of a little more tentative companionship.

Maka gets her things together in a rush and meets Soul back on the trail with a glare. They walk mostly in silence, pausing to drink water, check their mileage. They make camp within shouting distance of each other and continue the next day much the same. Soul doesn't push her for more personal information, doesn't even keep prying for her actual name. With just the two of them there isn't much need for names anyway, there's no one else they could even try to talk to.

The third day of this pattern they cross the river into Belden and Maka stops into the post office to check for the food she had asked her friend Tsubaki to send. There were some long stretches they would go through without passing through a town big enough to have its own grocery store. For those times, she had left money to have packages sent with more dry goods and a little hardy fresh fruit.

"You're not waiting on any packages, are you?" Maka asks, picking an apple and offering one to Soul while they sit on the side of the river.

"Not here, I restocked in Sierra City and I was planning on picking up more groceries in Chester."

She watches as he fishes in his back pocket for a knife and starts cutting into the fruit while holding it solidly in one hand. "You're going to cut a finger off like that," Maka comments, tearing off the stem of her own apple and biting into the top.

"I always eat apples like this," Soul says, pausing to point at her, knife still in hand. It would seem threatening if he wasn't so akin to a big mopey dog. "Now that's a weird way to eat apples, core and all."

Maka rolls her eyes; it's not the first time she's heard that one. "You don't waste any like this - and don't give me crap about the seeds being poisonous," she fills in before he can open his mouth any wider. "You would have to chew up the seeds of fifty apples to get anywhere close to cyanide poisoning."

"Thanks for the biology lesson, not like I went to college or anything." He cuts off another piece. "I was just going to say I only know one other person who eats fruit like you. And," Soul continues, waving his apple slice for good measure, "he's also the only person I know who's weirder than you."

"That's a good one - why don't you just eat off the core like a normal person?" Maka scoffs.

"I don't want to get my hands sticky."

"There's a river right there."

"Why don't you just throw the core away?" Soul shoots back.

"That's littering."

"It's freakin' compostable. The worms will be jazzed."

"I don't waste food, okay." Squinting, Maka puts on her best 'drop it' look, earning her dropped eyes and a shrug. It almost makes her feel bad, but not quite. The more she slowly gets to know Soul, through mannerisms more than conversation, she learns he's not one to stick up for needless confrontation. She just doesn't know why that makes her want to push his buttons even more.

A conversation with her childhood friend Blaine comes back to her as he ranted about his college roommate.

"It's like he doesn't say anything and then snaps off about how I haven't washed the dishes in a week. If it bothers you just do it yourself, dude."

The whole situation had been ridiculous; clearly Blaine was in the wrong for being the definition of a slob. Yet, Maka's takeaway had been to not push the quiet ones.

"Chester's quite a ways off trail, isn't it?" She hopes he'll let her change the subject without anymore bickering.

"It'll add an extra day in and out but I'll probably hitchhike."

It's your funeral. Inside she wonders if they'll still be hiking together a few days along when that time comes. Maybe that will be when they part ways. They've only known each other a few days, and she really knows nothing about him besides what she can glean from his behavior, and yet... Having exactly zero other people to talk to is probably skewing her judgment, and yet... He means nothing to her, and yet, she kinda likes having him around.

"What school did you go to, again?" Maka asks as if she's merely forgotten as opposed to knowing nothing about him.

The corner of Soul's mouth quirks up. "I'm supposed to tell you what school I went to when you haven't even told me your name? Maude?"

They still aren't past this, are they. There's not many people with her name - shoutout to her hippie father for making something up instead of just picking one. Maybe being Facebook friends wouldn't be the worst thing, though. She can always block him if he turns out to be weirder than the last few days have led her to believe. "You'll tell me where you went to school if I tell you my name?"

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know. It's give and take."

"Well, you were right about the starting letter, but my name is Maka," she says.

Five stages of confusion cross Soul's face before something akin to enlightenment dawns. That can't be right. Droopy eyes widen further than she's ever seen before, and the lifted corner of Soul's lips drops down, down into a grimace. "Oh damn."