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This is the funniest fucking face I've seen anyone make.

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NAT PLEASE TAKE IT

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Nat sighed at Lottie, who just fell face first into the dirt. She crouched over the other girl and started to poke her head in boredom. "Did the Wilderness not tell you about that branch?"

Lottie huffed with a pout and lifted herself. Face red, she dusted herself off. "It doesn't work like that."

Nat stood up and began to walk. Lottie matched her pace so they could bump shoulders. "Really," Nat said.

"Yes." Lottie wrung her hands. "I only know what it tells me."

"And what does it tell you?" It was a half question. She didn't expect a straight answer, just vagueness that could be twisted enough to be the truth. But since the crowning, she found herself anxious on why the Wilderness chose her. "Has it given me a five star review on my leadership skills?"

Lottie stayed silent for the next minute. As if to translate an ancient language into English. What the hell could a tree tell her?

"I can't say for certain," Lottie said. A bitter laugh broke from Nat. Pointedly, Lottie looked at her. "But I do know that you are It's favorite. You always will be. Nothing will change that."

Nat bit the inside of her cheek. "Whatever. The clearing is up here." She saw a familiar log and kneeled behind it. Lottie sat next to her. Her eyes stayed on Nat and the gun in her hands.

Nat said, "You don't have to do this, y'know." She added, picking at the log's dead skin, "I know you hate loud noises."

"I know. But I want to help." Lottie looked away. "At least until Travis is feeling better."

A numbness took ahold of Nat's fingers. "Yeah. Until he feels better." She laid the gun down and took out the magazine. Lottie seemed to unnecessarily stare, too intense that it made Nat talk to the open clearing instead of her, "First thing to know is safety."

She recited what Ben taught her, "A gun can easily kill. Which means even if it's not loaded." She held up the magazine. "You treat it like it is."

Lottie nodded. "So don't do what Travis did."

Right. She buried that memory in the back of her head. Travis pointed a loaded gun right at her. At the time, it was so normal to expect something like that to happen. Piss your dad off, and he'll say he's going to blow your brains out in your sleep. Bastard even made her sleep with the shotgun.

Her voice warbled, "Yeah." Lottie's fingers twitched, but she clasped her hands together. "Anyway, when you hold a gun and you're not aiming, you point it at the ground, away from whoever is closest." Nat stood up and held the gun, so that pointed left, its barrel sloped down at the ground. "Like this."

Again, Lottie's studious eyes centered on the movement. Later in the day, Nat would think back on it. How the attention warmed her core, the pride that came with it that made her words relaxed.

She gestured for Lottie to stand up. It could be seen as cute how she stumbled up, poised like a soldier. "Relax." A smile crossed Nat's face. "You're not serving in 'Nam or anything."

"Probably for the best." Frowning, Lottie said, "I think I'd shoot my foot off."

Nat shrugged, grinning. "Yeah." She shrugged off the light punch to her shoulder. "Alright, so you're going to practice holding the gun."

At first, Lottie held it as far as she could away from her body. Which was hilarious but far from pratical. Her eyebrows were furrowed when she hunched up her shoulders and leaned forward.

Nat came up to her and stroked over Lottie's left hand. She cupped over it, letting the tension ease out. Then she repositioned the trigger hand. Pointer finger over the side of the gun, rest of the hand under the guard. By this point, she was behind Lottie in a hug and looking over her shoulder. Her lips brushed an ear. "There."

Maybe she imagined the shiver or how the gun pointed lower in that moment. She squeezed Lottie's shoulders and told her to walk with it. Yes, the other girl looked like an idiot with her wide strides and an overserious face. Did Nat correct her? No. It was a sign of innocence, and ultimately, Lottie at her core; unused to holding a gun.

Lottie marched back with a half-smile. "How'd I do?"

"Honestly, not as shitty as I thought. But you'll need practice." Nat added, "If you want to, I mean-"

She cut her off, "Yeah." Caught in her excitement, she handed the gun back and quietly asked what else she needed to do.

They sat behind the log with Nat holding the loaded gun, aimed at a treeline. "Before you shoot, I want you to get used to the noise." She looked down the bare sight. "You can cup your ears for the first four shots. After that, try to place your hands on something. Feel secure."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lottie nodded and covered her ears. She flinched hard at the first shot, and hid her face. Nat clicked the safety on before she grabbed Lottie's hand. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Lottie swallowed. "It's louder than I remember."

"Do you want to keep going?"

Lottie nodded.

By the fourth shot, she kept herself from flinching. Although she had a nervous look in her eye when Nat said, "Try to hold onto something. Might make it less scary."

Nat stiffened when Lottie held onto her and huddled closer. She tried to joke, "What? Am I your teddy bear or something?"

"Yeah," Lottie said. The grin was apparent in her voice.

"Whatever, loser."

The marks that Lottie's nails left on her were red when she checked at night. Lottie had even whimpered during the first shot, which made Nat feel like shit. But the other girl stuck through it. When Nat asked Lottie if she wanted to shoot the gun, all she got was a hesitant no.

Either Lottie was genuinely not ready or never intended to shoot in the first place. On the walk back, she forced Lottie to hold the gun to see the cartoonish army walk.

Christ. Mathews really is a loser.

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Nat expected it to hurt more. The pain of being beat by raining fists until your body drops and curls. Shauna did not hold back. She knew when to jam her foot on a hand to make your head lift then punch your eye.

Maybe she's bruised. Possibly her body will be yellow in the coming days under the sun while she sits and contemplates death.

It's a luxury to die out here. Jackie, Laura Lee, and Javi had a way out, as fucked as it is. Because now she's a punching bag for her own teammate who is dragging it out far longer than necessary.

Lottie, red faced, coughing blood had suffered a total of one hour. Like an animal Shauna wailed on her. The crack of her knuckles echoed inside the cabin. Shadows from the fire made the blood splatter worse since it sputtered out.

At first, Nat thought that Lottie would be on the ground then pop right back up. The Wilderness had to save her right? What'd it do without its prophet?

That ended once Lottie's fingers carved into the floorboards. Her whole body was stiff, and it would increase the pain rather than ease it. Still, Lottie resisted the urge to survive. Her right hand twitched twelve times while her left hand did four, right foot shuffled two inches. The left never moved.

Blood dribbled down the slope of Nat's nose. Shauna stood in front of her, words garbled as she proclaimed something to the rest of the group.

Relax. That's what her dad would say when he beat the shit out of her mom. Just relax. It'll be over soon, baby. I need to teach you a lesson. At that point, her mom would be silent except for the tiny whimpers that leaked out. She perfected the art of pain with a loose body that twisted when hit right. It looked comical how a punch to the jaw can swing your skull to the side then to the other.

On her almighty pedestal, Shauna began to circle her. Nat's knuckles whitened as she clenched her hands. Same whiny pitch as her old man. Talk after the show to show God how tiny you really are. Her lip curled.

Gun. Shotgun to the brain. Pink spills, eyes blank, bone peeking. Trigger. Pull. Shoot. Kill.

Shauna kneeled in front of her. "Any more secrets you want to share with the group?"

Nat did not raise her head when she spit on Shauna's shoe. She did not make noise as said shoe stomped on her face. She did not feel the numbness that crawled over her body in the next half hour.

All she knew was that she was hungry. The emptiness in her gut ached more than the bruises.

A hand lifted to the top of her spine. Another smoothed over her neck. Somebody was talking to her but she couldn't care.

"Nat." Circles stroked over her back. "Can you hear me?" The voice tightened, "I'm going to move you to the bath. Okay? I'm sorry if this hurts."

Nat bit into her lip as she was carried. She whimpered on every other step and hid her face in her arm. The person holding her tried to let her go, but she held on too tightly. Finally, she was put in a chair. The next fifteen minutes involved her getting undressed, and her slumped form fought the whole way.

She bit her own shirt, trying to keep it on. That failed along with everything else. A haze of a memory kickstarted when she was left in her panties. Flashing lights, a crowd, a dirty bathroom.

When the bathwater hit her, she screamed.

"You're safe. Nat. It's Lottie. You're safe, please trust me. I know it hurts."

Lottie. The name rolled around her head until she remembered. Wilderness Lottie, Messiah of acorns and dead birds.

With one eye, she saw Lottie leaned over the tub, rag in one hand as the other held her knee. It was weird to know that Lottie was the one patching her up. Was she doing it out of guilt? Pity? Did she see a fellow teamate or a beaten slut?

"I'm so sorry." Lottie's lip wobbled. "You should’ve been safe." The rag rubbed down her arm and over the divots of her hand. "I didn't know if Shauna would." She focused on the fold of miscolored skin under Nat's jaw. "You're not dead. At least you're not dead."

Dead, Nat thought. God. I wish I was.