“Captain Hummel!” a voice calls and Kurt turns. Ratcliffe is making his way over to him and Kurt suppresses a groan. “It appears I’ve selected the perfect location, eh? Not a savage in sight.”

Kurt tries not to roll his eyes at his pompous tone. There was always something about James Ratcliffe that Kurt didn’t just didn’t warm too. He couldn’t tell if it was the way he thought himself to be the greatest thing England has ever produced or if it was the hideous purple suit he squeezes his vulgar and bulging body into every morning. But why?! Why would anyone make this man a governor? 

“Just because we don’t see them doesn’t mean they’re not out there, sir,” Kurt responds, keeping his voice calm and level. Despite his distaste of the man, he is still in charge of the expedition, and therefore, in charge of Kurt.

“Well then, perhaps you should venture forth and determine their whereabouts, hmm?” Ratcliffe suggests and Kurt has to keep the relief off his face that he doesn’t have to spend more time with this man.

“If there are any Indians out there, I’ll find them,” Kurt promises, desperate to get away. He feels a little bad for leaving the rest of the men with the work of unloading the ship and setting up the settlement but he pushes the thought down selfishly as Ratcliffe starts raving on about gold.

It feels nice to walk on solid land; he spent too long on that ship. The air is fresh here, walking through the forest, weaving between the trees. It’s not bitter or salty, like the sea air, but sweet, earthy and just perfect. Kurt lets himself stretch, and finds himself humming and singing quietly to himself. It’s beautiful here, nothing like industrialised London or the English countryside. This place seemed more natural, untouched by the outside world.

Kurt breathes deep, taking it all in. It feels right here, but he doesn’t yet know why.

***

Blaine can’t help but watch him, this pale stranger. He creeps down to the riverside and hides behind the foliage and watches him. His strong arms and skilful hands mesmerise him as Blaine watches him work with the other men. They work together, in unison, like beavers building a damn. 

The man stops for a moment, surveying his fellow tribesmen, lifting one leg up to rest on a large rock, half buried in the ground. His muscles strain against the fabric around his legs. Blaine doesn’t realise how long he had been looking at that leg until he realises he had it memorised.

Someone joins the stranger, a large man, though not in the sense that Blaine is used to in the tribe. Instead of wide shoulders, this man as a wide stomach. He is covered in stretching material that is the same colour as the poisonous berries he had found in the woods once.

They talk, using sounds that Blaine doesn’t understand but he watches the pale one, the way his lips move, the way his jaw is clenched. He recognises the expression, it’s like he is experiencing something uncomfortable. Blaine has experienced it before, most recently when his father expressed his wish for Blaine to marry the tribal woman, Santana. She held no interest for Blaine but her father was an excellent warrior, the most skilful in the tribe, it would be only expected that she would marry the son of the Chieftain.  Blaine sighed, she was beautiful, yes, but she was nowhere near as beautiful as this pale man who speaks in a way Blaine wishes he understands.

He’s moving away from the other people, towards the trees, and Blaine shifts in the bush he’s hiding in. He moves, follows him, never making a sound. He spent his whole life hunting and can move his feet over the fallen leaves and branches without noise. It was a gift he received from the spirits of the forest, silence under the quiet din of nature and life.

He watches this person whose shoulders seem to slowly fall and become unwound the further into forest he travels. He explores everything, searching for nothing in particular. Blaine knows this place, it’s his home, so he knows where and ways to hide so close to him without being seen. He hears him, sometimes, his  voice singing or humming. Blaine doesn’t recognise the song, but this man is foreign. Maybe it’s the song of the spirits and the winds where he is from? Blaine doesn’t care, he just knows he wants to hear him more.

Blaine watches him jump the streams, twist through the trees and – his personal favourite – when he stood on the edge of one of the cliffs. He held out his hands, his arms as if he could absorb what he was seeing. He looked out on the view with what Blaine could only describe as awe with even a little bit of pride. But what is he proud of? Nature? That he’s the first of his tribe to see this view?

Blaine follows him down as he makes his way to the river, staying a little higher up, peering over the ledge at the man kneeling down on the stone bank. He’s throwing water from the river over his face and a few drops catch his hair. The sunlight that already dances in his hair makes rainbows in the trapped water. Mother Nature must like this man, Blaine thinks, he must be kind to her. Because why else would nature be so kind and make this person so beautiful?

Blaine sees him hesitate when he goes to splash his face again. He sees his shoulders tense and his head turn slightly but not nearly enough so that he can see Blaine. Still, as he stands, Blaine curls himself behind the tree behind him, out of sight, hiding with the skill of someone who has been hunting before he could talk. He peaks though, just a little, never wanting to let him out of his sight for too long and, in an urge to get closer, he dips down the side of the ledge he’s on to get closer to the river and the mysterious man.

He hugs the rock as he creeps close, not a sound in his footfalls, creeping low and peering through the grasses and reeds that grow from between the rocks on the bank. He’s gone, disappeared from where he was and Blaine scolds himself for letting him out of his sight. Blaine twists his head, trying to discover where the pale man went. He hears the familiar chirp of Pavarotti and Meeko pops up beside him, ready to pounce out before Blaine pushes him back down.

He has to find the pale man but he doesn’t want to scare him off. He also isn’t sure if he wants to be seen by him let, he just knows he doesn’t want to leave that beautiful face. So he crawls out of the grass, towards the river edge where the man had been, hoping the water spray in the air from the water fall would mask his presence.