Waiting for a ride in the dark

[beworthy]

[ He has not planned the journey. Cities, towns, miles and miles of long road with nothing in between, nothing to see but dusty fields and the bright arch of the blue sky curving from horizon to horizon: they come upon what they will, wherever the road leads, and Thor knows he does not want it to end even if eventually, somewhere, it must. They are driving west, he and Loki, and he has told no one where they are going nor where he expects to arrive, for Loki is powerless and has in all of Midgard only one who would call himself friend and kin and protector, as much as the younger brother might despise him for it.

Yet Loki stays with him. Loki must, for there is nothing now but one another; there is nowhere left to run to, no hiding place where Thor cannot find him. Or any other that sought him.

As the sun is beginning to sink from its zenith, they wind down from a long, twisting mountain road to a set of cliffs along the coast, dropping sheer to the frothing ocean below. As the sky streaks orange and twilight slips from the east, Thor finds a turnoff leading down, it seems, towards the sea.

They've slept in the truck before, in the cab or on spread blankets in the flatbed, when the night was warm enough.

So he drives until they reach the small beach deep-set between rocks and cliffs, the waves hurling and frothing towards the shore, and parks the truck there at the edge of the sand, reaching over to touch Loki's shoulder, gently: unsure if he is asleep or simply lost in reverie. ]

What do you think, brother? It will be warm enough to camp tonight.

[ In fact it was a hot day, the sun merciless in a cloudless sky, and the evening is dry but warm, especially in the close cab. ]