Four years later:

What would normally be a difficult task of getting out of bed was instead an easy one. Forest was nothing short of happy. A smile over his face, he enthusiastically tossed the covers away and hopped out of bed. This was how he had been for the past week. Before hurrying out, he took a moment to look at his pills and glare at them. They sat patiently on the end table in the corner of the room.

"One day," he said, inhaling deeply, "I will throw you out. All of you."

He had always had epilepsy. Every since the day he was born into this apocalyptic world, Forest was to live with this condition. But what traced back to his great grandma-mother might finally be coming to an end. He always had at least one seizure every few weeks; it never failed, but for the first time he had gone almost three months without them.

As he left the room, his smile came back, and by the time he had entered the place they called 'the living room', still it stayed. The room held four wooden chairs, each painted black, a large shelf to store their food, in addition to other less significant structures. Most of them had been crafted by his father, Hale, and himself.

When he stepped into the room, he saw exactly what he saw every morning. No matter how much he'd try to beat his sisters, they were always there before him. Autumn and Winter were morning people and he never understood how they did it.

"Still hopeful, huh?" Winter asked from the hard concrete floor on the opposite side of the room. The girl was throwing a ball into the air, as she often did. Standing beside her was her twin sister, who immediately flashed her a hard look.

She has always been the sweet one. "Thanks, Autumn, but I don't care what she says. Her blunt comments won't bring my seizures back, so I won't let them get to me." He snatched an apple from the shelf and only four others were left. Looking at the rest of their stored food, he sighed knowing that they'd have to go on another trip for resources soon.

"Hey, Forest?"

Turning around, his eyes met his sisters', each holding the same shade of blue, and he frowned. "Autumn? What is it?"

Taking a breath, she shook her head. She was hesitant about something; it was obvious. After a long pause, the silence deafening, she said, "It's that time again. Dad wanted me to tell you to pack for tomorrow."

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Oh, no. Forest was at a loss for words, his long-held smile now gone without a trace. Gulping down his uneasiness, he struggled to keep the anger from his voice. "Why? We don't need to get my medicine. I'm fine, can't you see?!"

"Forest-"

"After all the pain over my fourteen years, you can't let me finally be happy? I can't believe you. I really can't. For the first time in years I have something to look forward to. My condition - it might be going for good!"

"Hey, hey, listen," she interrupted, that same frown on her face, "then talk to Dad. He's the one who decides the supply runs."

"Oh, and you two might want to brush your hair, because it's everywhere," Winter stated, and went back to tossing her ball in the air absentmindedly.

"Hey, your blonde hair isn't brushed either," Autumn said back. "Just because mine is long and yours is shoulder-length doesn't mean you can avoid combing yours." In response to this comment was a mere shrug, and her twin sighed with exasperation.

Forest ran a hand through his hair. It felt clean from the day before when he had bathed in the river. Unlike with their wooden home, they didn't have a water source close by. It took them half an hour to reach the nearest river on foot, so none of them traveled to it more than twice a week. But this didn't mean his sister was wrong. Strains of his long, brown curly hair stuck out in all directions and could seriously use a brush.

But that was if they were really going. Setting his apple down on the shelf, he hurried off for his father's room. The boy was going to do all he could to persuade him that it wasn't a necessary trip. That he really didn't need any more medication.

Knocking hard on his door, he listened for any movement from within when he received no response. "Dad? You don't understand, okay?" he said, desperate. "Autumn told me, but we don't need to leave. I'm sick of my seizures, and they might finally be going for good. Dad, so can you-" And the door opened to reveal his father. He had clearly just gotten out of bed, hair in all directions. He never was a morning person.

His tired eyes met Forest's, and the man sighed heavily. "How much more medicine do you have?"

"Enough for ten days, but since I have been taking less, I could last a little bit longer."

"Exactly. So we're leaving tomorrow. Pack your things." When his son opened his mouth to protest, he continued in a gentler tone. "It will take us two days to get to that pharmacy we went to last time, son. But there's a possibility we will have to find another source for your pills. Not just that, but other distractions might come our way. So pack your things."

"I'm sorry. I'll pack my stuff," Forest said sadly, eyes leaving his fathers', and nearly walked away when he paused. "I guess I was just really hopeful. But you're right. They'll probably come back."

"Hey-" his father tried, but it was too late. He had already left his sight.

Forest retrieved his apple, the boy taking a moment to think before having another bite. It only takes half an hour to pack, so I can wait a little while. About to take another bite, his apple almost done with, a certain noise sent a chill down his spine. And he froze, the apple falling to the ground with a thud.