A Single Cabin, A Common Goal (Private for Now; Roo & Smoke)

Ooc: Time skip to where they've arrived?

Ooc: Sounds good. Do you want to do it or shall I? :3

Ooc: Can you? I need to e-mail Meg and do a bunch of other stuff irl :/

Ooc: Yeah sure, I'll get onto it soon :3

The first thing Elliot had noticed about the camp of this community was the amount of people that inhabited it; their were at least around 60-80 grim-faced appocalypse dwellers nesting in the shabby wooden an torn-fabric homes scattered around a man-made clearing, some on the ground, others suspended in trees by rope and log scaffolding. Horses and yowling dogs were tied to tree trunks or roots, but not to house structure. They're probably afraid that the animal would bolt and take the whole freakin' building with him, Elliot thought to himself, looking skeptically at the old wooden frames that had an entire house relying on it to not disintegrate. 
The barking of the dogs echoed unbarebly in Elliot's head. He and Brooke had been forced to walk longer and harder than they had expected, all the time desperately trying to keep up with the horses. 
He was tired, irritable and headache-riddled. 
And a prisoner.
Dismounting their horses, the pink-haired girl and the hairy-chinned man yanked the tied-up boy across the enormous clearing into the centre, kicking in the backs of his knees so that he crumpled painfully into and kneeling possition in front of a much larger and more stable-looking building.
"You wait here til the boss comes out," hissed the tattooed woman into Elliot's ear, "She'll do with you what she will. You and your bloody friend."

"At least he has friends," Brooke replied once she had been thrown with Elliot. While it was immature, it gave Brooke satisfaction to see the woman's face go as pink as her hair.
Once she had left, Brooke looked at her companion.
"Any suggestions?" She said, her mind blank. The only she knew how to do was commit suicide when the enemy took you, but frankly, she didn't feel like dying.

"I haven't had much experience with this kind of stuff, I'm afraid," Elliot whispered, discretely tugging at his unmoving binds, "We wait and see what this leader has to say. If it looks bad, I have my knife. I'll escape, free you, call Rowan and Fiver who without a doubt followed us and are waiting nearby, and we'll be off."
Elliot knew how rediculous this all must sound, but he wanted to saound as if he was one step ahead (which of course was not true). 
Suddenly, the deer hide covering the entrance to the large hut was pulled back and figure strode, confidently, almost angrily out and stopped in front of the two prisoners. Her dirty blond hair was strung up in a bun on top of her long head and she was clad in a loose red shirt and thin, baggy trousers. She towered over the Elliot and Brooke, arms crossed and eyes scouling at them. 
"Zeph, where did you find these two?" She said in a demanding voice that was threatening only the the two prisoners.
The dark-skinned man that had lead the group that captured Brooke and Elliot stepped forward, "We found them by the lake, Sal," he boomed in reply, surprisingly non-chalantly considering he was speaking to a superior, "Meri tried to tackle them by herself. When we got there, they had her tied to a freakin' tree."
A loud mummur of laughter rippled through the assembled crowd of people. Elliot glanced around to see Meredith slumped in a shadey corner, shooting him and Brooke daggers from her hiding place.

If they're laughing at that, then they're probably going to be a bit bitter about one of their own being humiliated, Brooke thought to herself. However, of the multiple routes that she had in front of her, she chose one to make her seem like a damsel in distress.
"Why did you take us here?" She asked through gritted teeth, tugging a bit on her binds for extra show.
"You two were trespassing. We wanted know who could get as far as you did and not run into one of us," The darker man, Zeph, replied. His form was still nonchalant and his voice was just a bit tenser talking to Brooke. That meant they weren't going to be killed, but they weren't free either.

Elliot thought better than to say anything at this moment. He clasped his hands together behind him in an attempt to conceal the fact that he was trembling from Zeph and the rest of this enormous comunity.
"The point being," spoke the woman at the front, raising her hand for silence, "You have come to a place where you're not welcomed. We have certain methods of dealing with people like you."
This was met by another murmmer of agreement, which Sal silenced again. It's as if they're nothing but he puppets, Elliot thought bitterly, they do what she says, when she says to do it. They're like dogs begging for biscuits.
Sal spoke again, "However. You two have shown some amount of skill, though not an ounce of charm. Tie them up in the supplies tent until I decide what is to be done."

Brooke was handled roughly by a man who came from the background. He pulled her up and grabbed her by her neck and arms. To say the least, walking like that was not comfortable. She saw another man start going for Elliot and tried to give him a look. Run when their grip is the weakest.

Elliot snarled at the man who had just hoisted him up into a standing position and was pushing him towards a slanted, broken shed. Living with nothing but animals for week-upon-week had clearly taken its toll.
The boy cought Brooke's lookas he looked up. She was clearly planning an escape. All around them were the unforgiving, on-edge faces of the crowd. They were totally surounded. Elliot shot her a terrified glance as sweat began to trickle down his brow, There's no way we'll make it, his eyes said.

It may look like she was rolling her eyes, but she pointed them upward towards a look-out tower kind of thing. If they could climb up it and manage to not get shot down doing so, they had a chance at bargaining for their freedom.

Elliot was shoved harshly under the door frame into a small, crowded room full of boxes and crates of food, medicine and tools stacked on shelves made from stripped branches. The man who had lead him in pushed him down and tied him to a boulder that sat deep in the loose earth. After binding his feet also, and to Elliots horror, the man proceeded to search the him, pulling and tugging at every poutch and pocket.
"What are you doing?" Elliot demanded.
"What does it look like," replied the man, not looking up, "Can't be having armed prisoners now, can we?"
He shot the captured boy a sly smirk as he pulled out Elliots hunting knife from his boots. Wincing with anguish at his of his back-up plan being so easily foiled, Elliot watched as the man rose and tossed the blade into one of the crates.

Ooc: We're doing a calendar for 2015 in computer app. class and guess what I fund out? This year, there's a full moon on Christmas. Also, my 16th birthday will be the second new moon of October X3 I thought that was really cool.

The same thing was being done to Brooke, who was gritting her teeth the entire time. She received an incredulous look from the man as he held her pocket knife, as if insulting her for being so unprepared for being captured.
The man finished searching her, apparently not expecting to find so little weapons on someone in her position.
"So what now?" Brooke questioned him, impatience shining through in her voice. She was tied up, weaponless, bruised and defeated. She was not a happy camper.

Ooc: That's so freaky O_O Maybe you'll turn into a warewolf on your birthday. HOWL-py Birthday, Smokey!! (sorry, couldn't help the pun x3)

"You will both stay here until the community decides what to do with you," one of the men recited hurridly, probably itching to get the meeting where all this decision making was taking place. After they both had left and he and Brooke were left alone, Elliot groaned and knocked his head against the frame of the shelves. How could he let them take his knife?!

Ooc: Nah, werewolves have to do with full moons. I'll turn into the opposite of a werewolf- a werecat (or something)! I'll say hello to Bumblestar for you :3

Brooke blew out a puff of air, just as irked as Elliot was. She didn't see many ways out of this; most of them ended in their recapture or their death. Neither were very good.
An idea came to mind then. "We need to find out who these people were before the zombies came," Brooke said.

"Why does that matter?" Elliot questioned, ignorant in his frustration. He was worried for Fiver and Rowan; they hadn't been left alone for this long since he had found them. What if they get caught? he thought, panicked. These people will have mush less mercy for animals than they will for humans.

"Then we can figure out their weak spots to convince them to let us go. Like if one of them had a little girl that died and we say we have to get back to our little sister, he might take pity on us," Brooke explained, a bit annoyed at the boy's ignorance.

Elliot blew out of his nose, calming himself down. Brooke was right; they had to be in order to get out of this. 
Almost an hour past before a familiar figure stepped through the door. The girl from before, the one who had first shot her arrow at them that morning, stood scowling in the doorway, a small, wooden bowl in each hand. Carelessly, she tossed them down by Elliot and Brooke, some of the homemade porridge spilling over the edge. 
"It's for you, so you don't starve to death before we can punish you for trespassing," Meredith spat.
Elliot shrugged, trying to seem not to care about the girl's sharp tongue. He grunted in frustration, "How the heck do you expect us to eat this if we're all tied up like this?"
"Not my problem," Meredith smirked, leaving the room with a victorious air about her.

Brooke's eyes narrowed on the back of the retreated girl. "High school drop out," She said, telling Elliot what was running through her mind.

Elliot scoffed, "Yeah, definately."
With a great deal of effort and a lot of the porridge going over the sides, he managed to hoist the wooden dish onto his knee. He then proceeded to clasp the rim between his teeth, tilt his head backward and slurp the mush greedily down his exposed throat. When the bowl was empty, Elliot spat it onto the earthy floor beside him and wiped his mouth on his shoulder.
"Well, that's the most skillful thing I think I've ever done in my life," he joked, tugging to no avail at his tight wrist-binds.

Brooke had, not very majestically, balanced the bowl on her two knees and managed to sip out half of it before giving up. It tasted horrible anyhow.
Brooke gave a small laugh when Elliot commented on his own attempts. "I feel like a little kid with a crayon," She said.

"Yeah, back when learning how to hold a pencil or buckle your overalls were the most challenging things you had to worry about," Elliot laughed, a hint of bitterness escaping into his voice as he thought how much had changed.

"And tying your shoes was the boss level," Brooke laughed bitterly back. After a minute or two, the woman heard shuffling coming from outside of the poorly made den that they were in. She stopped fidgeting in her bonds and sat still as she tried to listen in on any possible conversations.

Elliot had heard the voices too, and, like Brooke, sat deathly still. He could hear the muffled voices of two men and a woman talking tensely just outside. Honing his senses in on the group, the boy could just make out a conversation of sorts.
"Well, have we seen anything of them?"
"No, nothing. Maybe she was lying, I mean, you know what she's like."
"That's true. Does anything to get attention. Shame though, a new horse would be useful."
Elliot panicked for a moment. They've got to be talking about Rowan. He relaxed, however, as the voices continued. 
"Well, we'll make do. I'm not going back out there again, I'm exhausted."
"Me too. Maybe we should send Meredith out again."
All laughed.
"She's tottally hopeless. I reckon she'll be... well, ya know... next on the list."
"Shhh! You want to get your name on that list? I'd keep those thoughts to yourself unless you wanna end up as zombie fodder.
All went silent outside.
"What the heck are they talking about?" Elliot hissed at Brooke, not taking his eyes off the doorway.