<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;">Vern Reider</span></span><br/><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Dining Hall</em><br/><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Open</em></strong></strong></div><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 9pt;">Vern’s eyes restlessly surveyed the land below him. The top of the hospital was a good vantage point, though certainly not the best. The Clock-Tower, not too far from here, was much better. But he wasn’t up there for the view, simply for the solitude. He loved his tribe, they were his family, but sometimes he had to be alone. He had to be strong for them, and at that moment he wasn’t feeling particularly strong.<br/><br/>Nightmares were still a common occurrence for him, dreams that started off happy, taking him back to the times before Harlan had died, before the split between the groups that existed now. But they always ended the same, Harlan dead, more dying because of the fighting between them; because of him, perhaps. But the other leader, Mack, could not be trusted. Vern discouraged his people from seeking out fights, much better to simply fade out of sight and avoid all the bloodshed, but it still happened far too commonly.<br/><br/>Vern sighed, continuing to run his fingers restlessly over the ring in his hands. He held it loosely, sometimes wishing it would drop from his grasp, be lost to him. Maybe he could let some of this go. But if it did, he imagined part of him, if not all would follow it down. He couldn’t do that to the others. <br/><br/>Movement in the corner of his eye had him moving quickly, the sight of his rifle steadily locked on the head of the person. His finger fell away from the trigger, however, as he recognized the form. It had been a while since they had seen Vkraci, almost long enough for Vern to wonder if he was even coming back, this time. A number of the others didn’t trust the man, wondered just what he was doing when he disappeared for such long lengths of time. But he had given Vern no cause to believe he was doing anything against them. And anything other than that, he didn’t really care to know. <br/><br/>The day was becoming bright, much brighter than it had in a while. There was even the slightest hint of an outline of the sun in the east. He imagined it might end up hurting his eyes later on, but it was no matter for now. He slipped down into the window beneath him in a quick, fluid movement. People would be up and about soon, if they weren’t already, and he would be somewhere they could find him if they needed him. He headed down into the kitchen, fetching himself something to eat and setting himself down in the corner of the room. The ring had made its way back onto a thin chain around his neck, hidden securely beneath his clothes. Few here knew he still had it.</span>