-Just a {Moment} in the Woods-=-{Earthling!}

I'm more than just a number, I doubt you'll find another
so every single summer, I'll be the one that you remember

It wasn't technically Marsh's turn to go foraging, but it wasn't like he ever got a day off, either. The whole concept of having time to relax, to be still and listen, was foreign to the boy - and not just because of his District. Marsh was a man with coals under his feet, a desperate and unyielding need to be constantly moving. So, although he should have been among the last of the season's fruit trees, boosting his little brother to their highest boughs, he found himself in debt to his buddies.

It was stupid, really. But then, what bets were smart? They'd goaded him into swapping chores for a few minutes of entertainment as he tried to woo a girl way out of his league. He saw that now, which was something - something new. He wasn't as young or blind as he had been last summer. Still, the attempt was well worth it; she was a beauty, and he would never regret paying a compliment, a few sweet truths, to a young lady. Even if it meant he was forced out of the cocoon of his peers into the solitary woods.

He'd never been very good at foraging. He was built as a tank, muscle and no brains, good for lifting and pulling and dragging. To scan the branches, trunks, trees and lined horizon for food was information overload. Still, he tried. He kicked over rocks, leapt over fallen trees, peered into their hearts. His feet landed loudly, no doubt scaring off any prey that might be lurking. He wasn't exactly prepared to hunt, lacking any weapons. But if a squirrel happened across his bootlaces, Marsh knew how to end its life quick enough.

Instead he ought to be searching for mushrooms, but the truth of the matter was, Marsh hated fungi. The texture, the taste, the look of them buried in dirt. They belonged in the ground, maybe under it. Nasty little things. But, if he didn't come back with any, no doubt he'd just be forced back into the woods, by himself, which was pretty much hell for Marshelder Cane.

He'd found a particularly angled white tree, which had snapped some fifteen feet up and lay three times on the ground. It was a challenge, and instead of looking into the hinge's shadow for the fungi, he stepped onto the fallen top, balancing on his worn-thin leather boots, arms outstretched so that his muscles tensed. And then he teetered all the way to the breaking point, turned, and looked down.

It was considerably steeper in the other direction. Nothing he couldn't handle though. Really it wasn't the angle of descent that stopped him, but the sight of another boy who had emerged from among the trees. Marsh must have heard of him, or felt him, because his eyes locked onto Severus. A human being! Just what he had been looking for. And yet, as he watched, he realized that this wasn't one of his posse, not even close. Apologizing to the ground?

Well, that was weird, but maybe the boy could hang anyhow. Marsh was willing to chance it; he'd seen the boy around school, although he couldn't remember seeing him with any friends. "Finally! Thought I was going to be stuck out here all damn day by myself." Marsh waved, in case it wasn't immediately obvious where he was, perched on top of a broken trunk. "You climb?

I'm more than just a number, I doubt you'll find another
so every single summer, I'll be the one that you remember

Marshmallow Marshelder felt a little like the famed King of the World, standing atop the broken trunk. He was a good twelve feet in the air, which certainly wouldn't kill him if he feel, but it wouldn't be a good thing, either. It was great, just great, being so high off the ground, and so sure that he could get down whenever he felt like it. But he could taste freedom in the air, feel it behind his fingers as he brought his hands down to his slender hips. This was definitely the life. If Marsh had it his way, he'd build himself a house among the trees, with enough space for himself, a wife (definitely a very good looking woman), and his brother, too.

It would be perfect. They could camouflage it from the Peacekeepers, and build a network of ropes and suspended paths to walk among the trees. They'd build it all the way to the fields so they could collect fruit to eat. It was a solid plan if he'd ever had one, and Marsh immediately wanted to get to work on it - or at least share it with his brother, and friends, because he'd probably need to recruit their help to build something like that.

But first, he needed to come down from the trunk, and there was already someone who could listen to his plan. He wasn't a climber, so maybe he wouldn't understand the scope and brilliance of his idea, but Marsh was willing to give it a try. "Hey, no big, man." He flashed a quick, wide grin, and then flapped his arms out, so that they came to be even with his shoulders. He used them as a balancing beam on the quick slip-and-slide down the trunk. His feet began to move so quickly over each other that he stopped paying attention, and was just grateful they hit the mossy forest floor.

Marsh whooped and stretched out his right arm for a fist bump, except about halfway through the motion he realized that Severus probably wasn't that sort of bro. He changed the momentum, made it more of an air punch, which probably wasn't any better, but at least he didn't make contact. Now that he was able to look the other boy in the eye, he realized that definitely knew who he was, and the name finally sorted itself out of his tangled thoughts. "Severus, yeah, random." He looked around the forest, as though that made everything obvious.

"So, no climbing. I feel that. What would you rather do?" Marsh shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, which made him look a good few years younger. It was his standby posture, something that felt comfortable.

I'm more than just a number, I doubt you'll find another
so every single summer, I'll be the one that you remember

Marsh was pointedly oblivious to Severus' discomfiture. He continued to sway slightly, hands disguised on his pockets, glancing from the other boy and back towards the woods. Where was everyone? He thought that maybe, just maybe, he should've stuck around longer for the harvest. The bosses didn't usually notice his absence, since he was one of the climbers and their assistants, and they were hard to keep track of in the foliage. But sometimes they were amazingly psychic and knew right away when he was ditching out. And then things got bad, real bad, because his family needed the money and he hated disappointing them.

But it could also just be that his friends were lame and wanted to nap or something in their free time. Ugh, sleeping. It was such a waste of time. It wasn't like Marsh didn't feel the lull of it, the teenage drowsiness. He just had fire under his feet, and couldn't for the life of him understand why escaping the world was better than exploring it. Besides which, he never remembered his dreams, so it wasn't exactly entertaining. He'd give them flak for it later, for ditching him, and leaving him to wander alone.

Well, not quite alone, as it turned out, although he clearly wasn't functioning on the same level as Severus. There was just something between them, a wall or a bridge, that made talking a little disjointed. Marsh followed his gaze through the woods and gave a little shrug. Shade didn't seem seem difficult to find in a forest, but he wasn't exactly a connoisseur of the stuff either. And then he didn't really know what to say, which was dumbfounding for Marsh. Luckily the other boy picked up the conversation slack and charged ahead.

"Yeah, they're being lame somewhere, I'm sure. I dunno, I'm not really in charge of them, except for my brother, and I got the feeling he didn't want to hang today, y'know? But if you're looking for shade I think we can find some. Locally," he said, opening up one arm to indicate the surroundings. "Or whatever, I'm down with anything. We could like, go deeper into the woods, or there's the drinking pond. I swim in it sometimes and no one seems to really care." And it did not occur to Marsh at all that given the color of Severus' skin, he probably didn't swing a whole lot.