I was outside again. The pretext was hunting — and a good pretext it was too, because I was dangerously close to starving again — but the real reason I was out was just to be by myself and get some exercise and clear my head a bit.

I swore, if Karu came swooping down today, I would just shoot her out of the sky and leave her for dead. I had bigger issues on my mind.

But so far the day was peaceful and calm, birds singing in the trees, a bit chilly from the clouds spotting the sky, but I picked up a small jog to keep myself warm and enjoyed the brisk chill.

It just felt good to move. I’d been walking a lot but had a very shut-in lifestyle since my exile, when I used to go on morning runs, practice after school every day, games every week, and whatever social roughhousing the other guys on the team would get into. My legs hated me for running, and I knew it was a waste of calories I badly needed, and the choice between tree roots and broken asphalt wasn’t exactly ideal, but I didn’t care.

I was moving, I was outside, I was free.

I felt a bit morbid but my feet took me to the crater in the middle of the ruins. The obliteration there had been so complete that the ground was just blackened gravel, much better for running on than the fist-sized rocks which were omnipresent throughout the rest of the ruins. I put on a burst of speed and felt the wind tear at my face.

I only managed two laps around the crater before I was completely winded. Compared to my performance a few weeks ago, that was pathetic. But it still felt great. I began my recovery walk, heading south towards the river, stretching as I went.

My canteen, another gift from the mining ops center, gurgled happily as I immersed it in the running water. The river ran clear and fast, the many smooth round rocks still clearly visible in the middle, where the river ran waist-high.

I had crossed the river once, when I was wandering aimlessly after being first exiled. I remembered hearing the water in the dark, and feeling so excited, wandering lost and aimless for two days at that point, and drinking in the water with huge gulps and almost choking myself.

I had to laugh at myself back then. I was lucky I hadn’t gotten sick from the water. Now, I charged my hands with the canteen in them and after a few moments, the water began to boil vigorously. Sometimes, lightning was a handy talent.

“Well, hello there!” I heard a voice from behind me. I spun around, startled, nearly dropping my canteen.

Walking along the river up the same bank as me was an old man with a full white beard and a flop hat adorned with brilliantly-colored fishing lures. His clothes were worn and patched, but carefully cleaned and came in multiple layers, a fishing vest over a light coat over a plain tee shirt. He had a huge bag on his back which looked like it contained all his worldly possessions, and I could see a frying pan and a lantern hanging off the sides, and a bedroll on top.

“Fancy meeting another person out here,” he said cheerily. He whistled a little bit while he spoke, and I wondered if had a gap in his teeth or something. “Haven’t seen anyone else out here in years.” He laughed, easily, and I found myself laughing with him, despite not seeing what was so funny.

“Well, someone else other than Tate here. Tate, come on out boy,” he said, speaking behind him. From behind the man’s enormous pack came a small boy, similarly attired in outdoorsman attire, with his own hat and proportionally smaller bag. The boy gave me a shy smile but said nothing.

“Um, hello,” I said. I was at a loss. I didn’t know for certain, but had been operating under the assumption this was an exclusion zone, irradiated illegal wasteland from the Sino war. “Um, is this not an exclusion zone? Why are you two out here?”

He laughed. “It surely is, but I could ask the same question to you. And without a hat or pack besides. Did you walk all the way here with only a canteen?” He laughed again, and I couldn’t help but smile. I caught the child…Tate?…smiling at me as well.

“I’m uh, actually in exile. Exhuman, you see. Technically not supposed to talk to anyone.”

“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

“Heh, thanks. You don’t…have a problem with me being an Exhuman?”

“Well, the way I see it, whether you’re an Exhuman with crazy fanciful powers, or a hunter with a gun, or an ordinary bloke with a rock, if you wanted to make trouble for me and Tate, you’d do it. Doesn’t seem like you’re interested in making trouble, so why fret?”

“But Exhumans are horrible monsters. They kill people. I’ve killed people.”

He shrugged. “You looked perfectly normal when I said hello, and you don’t seem any different now than you were then. Seems as if you’re a decent sort of Exhuman, with you warning me about it and all, all on the right foot. I’ve no fear of you.”

“Well…thanks. I guess.” He laughed again.

“But where are my manners. My name is Wynn, this here’s my boy Tate. No mother, God rest her soul, before you ask. As for what we’re doing,” he turned sideways and hefted his bag towards me, showing off a pair of fishing rods hanging off the side. “Fine day for fishing. Care to come by, swap a tale for some of our bounty?”

I couldn’t refuse, couldn’t help but to like the man, and couldn’t help but to be jealous.

The life that I’d been sentenced to was better, and certainly less lonely than I’d feared. But it was still a hard life, I had to work every day or else risk starvation. If injury or illness caught me, I might just be done for. Yet this was a life he’d seemingly chosen.

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We talked about ourselves as we watched the lines in the water, at a small lake a ways downstream, and I learned that he’d retreated from the modern world, finding it a hate-filled place which pushed its occupants to work harder, go faster, always be climbing.

“Artificial competition,” he spat out, with as much disgust as I’d heard from him yet. “We have enough goods and good to feed and clothe the world, but we don’t. Because if everyone just stopped and enjoyed their lives, they’d find their lives are completely hollow. Because people don’t have anything real in their lives.”

“What’s that even mean? What in life counts as real?”

“This is real,” he said, gesturing to the fishing lines. “My boy is real. Cooking and eating a bellyfull of hard-earned fish-flesh is real. All things you can see and touch.” He stroked his beard as he reached into some memories from a lifetime ago. “A career. That’s what most people have. That isn’t real. Only exists because people think it does. Money. Fame. Power.”

“Not to get super off-topic and super real here, but…what about hate? Is hate real?”

“I dunno boy, can you hold it?”

“No. Metaphorically yes?”

“Had it right on the first one. Hate is something else people spend a lot of time chasing. Revenge. Justice. Vindication. Hate is a powerful thing. It may be more accurate to say hate is something which holds you instead.”

“But if you try,” he said with a wink of his pale blue eyes “you can get out from under hate. I imagine as an Exhuman, you’ve suffered your share of hate in your life, and from what I’ve seen of you so far, I imagine it to be mostly misplaced.”

It seemed egotistical to agree with him, even if I did, so I just listened and watched the ripples in the lake.

“And I can’t tell you to just ignore them. The hate will still be there, and there’s nothing you can do about it. With any luck, those people will have the same self-awareness you’re currently showing and wisen up and let some of their hate go. But I can suggest one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Do what I did. Leave it all behind. Life is too short and too blessed to waste on petty biases and prejudices and tit-for-tat. Find something real you love and hold onto it.” He pulled his boy into a one-armed hug. Tate gave a squeal and began to pull his fishing line, as whatever was beneath the surface began to thrash. Wynn responded with an enthusiastic holler and cheered his son on as the boy landed a large, shiny fish.

“Might be harder for you to leave it behind, since you didn’t get a choice in coming out here,” Wynn continued as he began to descale the fish, Tate now manning both poles.

“No…I think you’re right,” I said. “I should have left my hate behind when I came out here.”

“Well, don’t take my word for the gospel, I might be a bit biased,” he laughed again. “You ever cleaned a fish, boy?”

He had me do the rest of the fish under his supervision. It was a mess, and halfway through, Tate caught another fish, and finished cleaning his before I finished mine, despite the head-start. I wondered just how much survivalist knowledge was crammed into that small child’s head.

It wasn’t long before we had a generous feast of fish filets and several smaller fish, which Wynn informed me could be cooked and eaten scales and all off the bone. He sent Tate to fetch some firewood while he and I continued talking, refusing my offer to accompany the boy, saying that Tate was more than capable.

Of that, I had no doubt, but I felt a bit useless with them both having all the knowledge and doing all the work. The least I could do is haul some logs.

Yet it seemed like no time at all before Tate returned with a pile of logs towering over his head, still walking quickly with even steps. I hadn’t let Wynn forage for kindling, telling him I could get the fire started without. They carefully stacked the wood and placed flat rocks very nearly in the fire to cook the fish filets on, and then it was my turn.

I charged my hands, keeping the lightning blades as small as possible to reduce possible panic, and pressed my hands to the wood. Within moments, they flared to life.

“Now that’s a handy trick,” whistled Wynn. Tate was beaming enormously. “Heck of a time-saver, and I guess if you can start ’em so easy, you can make small fires whenever you want. Must save a bundle on wood — pun intended!”

I laughed, happy to be able to contribute something to the meal.

“I must say, I’m a bit jealous of you, young man.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, meaning it. “You’ve got all this expertise and wisdom, you chose this life and live it to the fullest.”

“Yes, but experience and lifestyles can be earned. I’ll never be able to start a fire with my hands alone. You’ve got a real gift there, boy.”

“Or a curse.”

“All depends on how you see it. Doesn’t seem like it’s too harmful unless you want it to be.”

“Or if someone tries to attack me. Found that one out the hard way.”

“Well, then they have it coming,” he laughed. I found myself not laughing with him on that one, a fact he didn’t miss, and promptly changed the subject. “We’ll have these fish cooked up soon enough. I dare say by your appearance you haven’t had a decent meal in a while. Let us fix that for you.”

“You really are too kind.”

“Nonsense. We’re both men of the land, we’ve got to stick together. Here, even got a treat I’ve been saving for a special occasion.” He dug through his pack and pulled out a familiar glass jar of red fruit. I blinked and had to take a moment to place where I’d seen it before.

“The mine.”

“Excuse me?”

“The operations building of the mine. Northeast of here. You got this from there?”

“So I did. You’ve been there?”

“Yeah.” I thought for a few minutes. “You must be the two that Saga mentioned. Did you uh, happen to hear any voices while you were up there?”

“Yes, strange lady’s voice, going on about quests and such. Just ignored her, seemed to tick her off.”

“Yeah, that’s Saga. She’s another Exhuman, lives over there. She has some serious issues with normal humans, so you may want to steer clear in the future.”

“Wasn’t planning to go back. But you folks starting your own club or something?”

“No, she says she’s been here for almost a hundred years. I don’t think the XPCA knew she was here when they sent me here.”

“Well, what a fun little twist of fate for all four of us to come together like this.”

The fish was delicious, easily the best thing I’d eaten in the wilds, and Wynn showed me where a couple kinds of herbs grew which you could add while cooking to enhance the taste. I found myself wanting to go share a taste with Saga, knowing how excited she’d be about it before remembering I took issue with her right now.

We finished eating at dusk and sat around the fire talking and laughing hours into the dark. At long last, conversation died down and I saw Tate had fallen asleep on the grass by the river. Wynn tutted his disapproval that the boy would freeze in those clothes, and hadn’t even set up his tent.

“There’s not much room, but you two are welcome to stay at my place. Indoors, away from the cold. You can meet my roommate.”

“Another Exhuman?”

“No, just some girl stuck in a prison somewhere who can only communicate to me via holo.”

Wynn fixed me with a sideways glance and tugged at his beard. “You have an interesting life, young man. But I think we may take you up on your offer, the day’s excitement has been a bit much for little Tate.”

I offered to carry Tate because Wynn was already plenty burdened with his supplies. The boy was light but I could feel how hard his muscles were and how tough his skin was, even on his small frame. We walked together in silence, walking side-by-side, the way lit only by the stars and the moon.