The sky and moon were clothed in a thick layer of darkness as I plummeted down below into the abyss. Following the silence of the stars, where the wind and the glowing strip of ice relentlessly pursued after me, foam and bubbles sloshing around my raw, blistered feet. When they touched the coarse grass along a small cliff made out of sharp gray rocks, a row of icicles spread out across the surface.

In the pitch dark of the trees, I could smell a great deal smoke; the glow of the orange light in the air. Extending two transparent water tendrils outwards to latch onto each distanced limb, I silently made my way through the branches; years of living alone in the shadows had heightened my sensitivity towards noise in general. I knew not what city I was near, but the outline of wilted buildings in the distance showed me that there were a few coastal ones that I had failed to remember their names on the map. The flapping noise of the all familiar red and white flag, of the Snake echoed in my ears, ripped at its edges. And soon the scent of the smoke suddenly turned into a deep stench, of rotting flesh that made my stomach turn and my eyes water at the corner. Through the dense leaves, I spotted figures clad in gray uniforms, furiously digging trenches, dumping corpses that were piled high on top of each other. Inside the fenced area, dogs loudly barked and leaped upon which man the soldiers deemed to work too slow. One soldier raised his pistol and fired at a prisoner who was struggling to drag a body across the dirt. His brains blasted out from his head as he collapsed and fell on top of the other bodies in the hole, where the other prisoners were furiously digging, not daring to look up.

I slipped down from the tree and landed silently on the dirt, my water tendrils swirling around me, crouching on my legs as another guard blew a whistle. Ignoring the searing pain in my pulsing head, I gritted my teeth and held a glowing blue hand out. A funnel of snow and ice shot out from my palm and caught a row of soldiers standing outside the fence, who were stuck in an eternal position, their open mouths and wide eyes caught in time. In the corner of my eyes, the prisoners dropped their shovels and began to flee, the men helping the women climb over the top of the fence. Several loud whistles rang out from the soldiers on the other side who rushed towards them. Directing the stream of pressure in my head, I focused, causing a large, gaping hole to pierce through the wired fence. In the midst of the screams and panic, the Khonie began to rush through the space, the crowded moving out and disappearing into the dark morning air.

I rapidly rose upwards into the camp, my tendrils swirling around me, blasting through the fence, the ground crumbling and peeling under the rapid currents ice and snow that suddenly coated every small wooden structure, each hill of dirt and stone. Bullets rang out in my direction, thousands of glowing shells littering the muddy, blood soaked earth. Creating a large pillar of ice, I directed it at the soldiers who ran out of ammo and started to flee towards their trucks, yelling on top of the their lungs. With one of my tendrils, I flung a general against a wooden shed, watching the man's organs splatter against its shattered window, lost in the multiple shards of glass. Adjusting to the sharp pain in my head, I lifted two military vehicles with two of my right tendrils high in the air, a great deal of blood pouring down my face as they collided together. An explosion of flames engulfed the air, and those who caught on fire ran until they fell and doubled over, the scent of burning flesh filling my nose.

To prevent the other soldiers from slipping out of my grasp, a large ice barrier formed around them from the currents of snow and frost shooting from my hands. I was struggling to keep conscious, although dizziness settled down upon me. With the last amount of energy I had within me, ignoring their terrified screams and their desperate attempts to climb over the barrier, I rushed forward and tore them apart with the ice daggers I had embedded in their skin, handfuls of flesh and bone and muscle and fat glued to my cold but sweaty hands. Their slimy innards splattered and coated the now red surface wall of the barrier, their lifeless eyes, which once held so much intent were now empty and meaningless.

As I slowly caught my breath and studied the dismembered corpses around me; I limped towards an overturned vehicle and took out its gas tank. The dull yellow liquid sloshed against the thick plastic container as I spilled it across each and every area I could around the Red Mambas in the now quiet camp. With my left hand, I ripped down the flag, and, dipping my finger into a puddle of blood, scrawled out the letter M broadly across its surface and placed it between the bodies of soldiers. After standing still in a brief moment of silence for the prisoners who lay in the trench, using a lighter I had found in the jacket pocket of a nearby general, I dropped a spark on the ground, watching the flames rapidly travel to consume those in front of me. I slipped the man’ pack of cigarettes in my right pocket and lit one for myself as the hungry flames raged on and on, eating the filth and decay that had poisoned my home for many years.

The warm glow of the orange and red fell on my face; my eyes, my hair floating in the air.

Quietly, I stared at the flag that I had tied down, in full view for Baldwin to see when he would come around here in the next couple of days, next to their charred bones. I released another puff of my cigarette, my blood soaked fingers staining the white surface, my hair over my face. When I finished it and stomped it out with my bare foot, I slowly followed the footsteps of the prisoners who had ran off in the woods.

It did not take me long to find them.

They were huddled against the cliff where the ocean waves raged and crashed, pointing at the ice and snow on the trees and holding their children and young ones tight, the ones that cried and hid their heads in their parents' arms, shivering and shaking. It made me ache, kill me inside. I did not step out of the shadows to have them terrified more that they were. Instead, in the dark morning light, I slipped under the water, allowing the surface to split in half and for the ocean floor to be exposed in the glowing blue that fell from my hands. Above the surface, I could make out their deep hesitation, before some men nervously decided to step onto the soft brown patch of earth and sand, confounded at the sight of the water being upheld by a force unseen to them and myself. The men coaxed the others to come in with a beckoning arm, and once everyone had settled into the space, I deeply respected their trust, even if we were never be able to meet each other face to face. The surface of the water closed above us with a deep, splashing sound, and the only sound was their bare feet moving silently across the ground in tune with the air bubble I was generating, with the exception of a few hiccups and sobs from the children, who were starting to fall asleep in their parents' arms. The quiet gurgling sound of the water echoed in our ears, with the faint glowing blue of my hands and their quiet, soft whispers.

When we reached the shoreline, the sky had transformed into a deep orange and pink, and the pain in my head was so severe the urge to pass out wreaked havoc on me. Although my face was coated in blood at this point, I continued to lead them through the forest, the swamps, and finally down the hill when the village sat in the distance. The blue light faded away in my hands, and I collapsed on the ground, submitting to the pain. When I had the strength to look up, several lights appeared on in the village, followed by loud shouts and a deep commotion as I could make out Jene, perhaps Victoria rush out to aid those who stumbled towards them, hollering for those around her to wake up and help. I watched them from behind the branches, my throat tightened up.

* * * * * *

They only had twenty six spies, which they sent out. Most were volunteers who were strong enough to move on their own. My hands shook badly as I studied them from the darkness, past the sleeping bodies, blending in with the shadows. Their angry voices were the only thing that permitted me to move closer and closer to Fritz’s hut, where their shadows lingered around.

Melted candle wax spilled on the table as they stood around a map, talking amongst each other in low voices. George rubbed his forehead with his hand as he went back and forth with his men, shouting at them, but none of them were coming into a place of agreement. Slowly, one by one stormed out.

In the darkness of the night, I scrawled down their ideas the best that I could on a worn piece of paper and a broken chunk of lead, trying to shape my letters in the dark, before going back in the woods for hours, pondering. Fortunately, I had gotten a good glimpse of their map, and I drew it clearly out from memorization due to the classes I had taken from the program back in Jova, including the designs of the camps. It took a while for all the lessons I had taken to come clearly in my mind. After labeleling them out clearly, where the Red Mambas usually stood guard, I added arrows, scribbling down my notes and suggestions. How much men George would need for a specific attack, and why it would be better to go from a different direction.

You have one hundred and thirty men. Start small. Don't attack south or north; you will bring in attention to yourselves.Their defense line is weaker, and that is where they keep their supplies, food, and weapon. Destroy those and then make your way inwards to Portia.

After pausing to look up to make sure no one had heard me come in, I began writing furiously again with my disorganized, shaky, handwriting, ignoring the sweat pouring down my face and neck, lead smearing from my fingertips. Method of exhaustion. On my map, I drew a circle around the Red Mambas' food locations. Cut off all food, communication. Blockade, seige. As the sun began to rise, I snuck into the hut and dropped my detailed notes on top of George’s table. When I heard the sound of footsteps, I took off as fast as I could.

* * * * * *

In a few weeks, Honda left once more after giving me a small supply of food, along a scrawled note that she had written in berry juice with a message that she would return as soon as she could. It was as if she had departed in a hurry. Where she had gone, I knew not where, although a deep anxiety settled over me for her safety. I noticed that she had taken her sketchbook, and one of out of her her only two dresses were missing from our clothesline. I only hoped to see her soon, whether it would be the next week or month; however long her journey would take.

And I did not want to imagine how she could begin to make sense of the monster that I was, that she did not know about. Her innocent nature, sweet smile, made me want to hide my face from her. She often gave me sketches of the landscapes, the birds I had shown her. Her soft hand would rest on my palms, unaware of the deeds I did with them. She did not see me stumbling to the cave around dawn covered in blood and human remains, shaking and vomiting until my legs were weak. She did not see the ashes and cinders in my hair and face, or how I spent hours cleaning my clothing, ignoring the hot water pouring down my face. She was not aware of the horrendous things I did in the dark; and how unfit I was for her. If she found out the truth that I was not prepared to tell her yet she would truly flee. She had a right to be afraid of me, although I wanted her to truly know deep down that I would absolutely never hurt her.

But what broke me the most is that there was always a possibility in which she believed that I was capable of doing so.

* * * * * * *

At night, I continued my sprees on every single ward I could find to release the indescribable, pent up rage built up inside of me. As the village began to expand due to so many people arriving, I dug out more rows to my garden so that they would have a proper meal, working shirtless while the heat of the sun came up each day. To keep up with the growing amount of produce coming in, I twisted large baskets made out of straw and twigs to, a few sticking out of my mouth. I learned to do so by watching the women of the village make them. While sweat poured down my back and neck as I trudged up and down the hill with each basket to where I knew the villagers would find the supplies, Here Boy curiously looked up at me, tilting his head as he sat down on his hind legs. As I made a long whistling noise with my lips to him, he loudly barked and rushed towards me, nose brushing against my legs as he tried to jump up.

And while evening fell, we both watched the sunset from afar while I smoked a cigarette from a dead man’s pocket, stroking Here Boy’s head in my lap. He licked my arm as I scratched behind his ears, with his tail rapidly thumping, before falling asleep. I stared straight ahead at Honda’s empty moss bed in the cave, realizing how lonelier it was here without her than it was before.

Yams. Corn. Zucchini. For each new group of survivors, I added a new vegetable to my garden. I stripped off my clothing in the steam each night and kept vigorously scrubbing to wash off the blood and frost and snow that clung on my arms and legs until my skin was raw and broken. Due to the many callouses that had formed on my bare feet, I could walk on gravel and not feel a thing. I fed Here Boy and Eli, stroking their fur and softly speaking to them, and planted pumpkin seeds and squash in my garden to prepare the next batch for the villagers. I believed I was going to include cucumber for them soon. I saw how many of the huts had expanded outwards towards the ruins.

And I knew where my next destination would be.

* * * * * *

Ice walls and borders sprouted from the tired earth like plants as I let the fire slowly rise over me and take over my mind. Their long spikes rose in the air and took over the remaining security ward buildings, and I swung across from each individual one at night, a dozen water tendrils attached to my arms that floated in the air. It began to snow quite hard, and the pain in my head began to subside as I gazed at my glowing blue palms. In the ruins of a demolished library building, I found a dusty old map and unfolded it to add my next target. My dirty fingernail landed on Navu, and a drop of blood fell from my nose and splashed on the surface.

I made sure to restrain myself while I led each group of shaking prisoners carefully through the cities back to the village.

Interestingly enough, I had yet to see another Red Mamba soldier cross my lair, let alone the city. It was strange. I wanted them to come. I placed their heads on top of sticks and watched the vultures and maggots consume their worthless, peeling flesh. I itched to do it again, and so, in a way to take the rage out on something, I repeatedly visited Flanders over a series of nights. Even when the soldiers began preparing for my arrival, I watched as they desperately tried to get into formation, clumsily scrambling together.

My abilities slowly grew stronger as my insides burned into a dark black crisp from the hungry flames. I would awake to find myself in my palace of ice, all the water floating and suspended in the air, including myself. When my concentration weakened I landed hard on the ground, breathing heavily as I waited for the dizziness in my head to subside. I was scared of the monster inside of me, of the man I knew I was becoming, as this beast inside me grew bigger and demanded more and more to eat until I finally caved in. It dragged me down into the depths of despair and shredded what little I had left within me.

The soldiers’ bodies squirmed helplessly underneath the shards of ice I held them down with. Water freely floated in their blood, so I twisted and tore their organs in front of me before they could shoot at me. Their arms and legs belonged to me, and I moved them like puppet strings, veins shooting through my skin. My nose bled profusely as my pupils began to dialate. The more I did this, the less painful it was in my head, and I would leave with the civilians becoming chaotic and frightened to see the soldiers dropping on their feet by the dozens like flies, evacuating each city I entered.

Come, I whispered to Baldwin in the darkness of empty territory. My territory now.

Come. I'm waiting for you.

* * * * * *

It poured hard, rain falling from the gray soupy sky above and leaving puddles in the muddy earth as I spotted the boys making their way into the ruined, abandoned parts of the city of Navu. My footsteps lingered in the mud as we went down one corner, then another until we all were surrounded by abandoned buildings, with only a few remaining flags of the Snake. A sloped, dilipidated building met my eyes as Covey hesitated for a moment, his large brown eyes searching in the heavy darkness that wrapped around us like a fabric. His scraggly hair and beard were disheveled. I slid behind a wall just as he turned his head and stood there, his eyes searching, before he entered inside.

I held my hand out as the rain started to float.

Water tendrils protruded from my back, expanding in the air like snakes. They curled around my arms as I hoisted myself against the wet brick surface, my bare toes curling on the tiles of the roof. I couldn't hear George or Fritz's hushed voices. As I slid down against the wall and jumped down on a pile of rubble, there was a boarded up window, but a few wooden planks were missing. After crawling up on the broken tiles; I crouched low for a moment, before finally having enough courage to slowly peek through one of the gaps. Thunder rumbled as I studied their shadows behind my tangled, filthy hair.

Inside this room, candles were lit in every single corner. A large group of men sat on long benches, but all conversations ceased as Fritz made his way to the front, where a cracked chalkboard sat. Their faces were scarred with a K. Sweat beaded on the man's face, causing his nose and cheeks to glisten. He pointed to a faded map of Plod on the board.

His voice was loud and clear as a bell.

"My fellow brothers, thank you for joining me tonight. We are here to discuss the content of these papers.” When he held up my notes, my mouth went dry. “Huey Baldwin's orders involve annihilation of the Khonie people in every city, and we cannot remain silent. No longer will they be sold for water, or worked as dogs, or forced to live in labor camps." His long finger smacked against the surface of the board, following up towards the northern cities. "They will be sent up north to be shot. Men, women, children. The water system is not coming back anytime soon. Baldwin's going to make sure to profit off it as much as possible. He may send more to attack. We have to be ready, as we are already dealing with the threat of a blue devil. Which, I am sure already, that you are greatly aware of. And now I have one question to ask, with only complete and utter honesty.”

I studied my glowing blue palms for a moment, before slowly looking down.

“Who wrote these?”

Panicked from his tone, I moved back a little in the dark. Chills ran down my spine as murmuring filled the room.

”I will not repeat myself,” Fritz demanded again, throwing my papers on the table. He banged his fist against the surface. “To be able to conjure up so much sensitive information means that one of you were eavesdropping in our meetings, which is strictly forbidden. Any of you who did must come up and once and confess, take accountability. You must be punished for doing such an indecent act. It is not possible for one of you to know these things without outright becoming a spy. You all are aware of what we do to those who are traitors.”

A deep silence fell upon them.

"We can't afford to look for survivors in the camps anymore," Covey finally said. His dark eyes narrowed. "We have to follow the soldiers. We need to blend in. We are small. They have thousands of troops. I'm well aware that we are easily outnumbered. But all it takes is to break through the system. To get behind the authorities. Someone who knows the system, who understands the ranks that each officer goes through. If Baldwin is assassinated, the war is over. But to get there, it takes planning. It takes strategy. Whoever wrote this knows absolutely what they are talking about. I’d say taking their advice is our only best shot. To do the opposite—it’s like suicide at this point.”

Fritz scowled. “You mean to tell me that you would put your faith so blindly into these papers? It could be a trick, for all we know.”

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"We can’t proceed on our own, Fritz," someone interrupted. "We've never been trained; some of us have never even seen or held a gun before.”

"We have been trained," George muttered under his breath. When Fritz shot him a sharp look, he instantly became quiet.

Covey snatched the piece of chalk from Fritz's hand and held up one of the pages with my handwriting. "This paper tells us, that in general warfare, there are eight classical maneuvers. The Red Mambas usually depend more so on three. Penetration of the center, envelopment of a single flank, and attack in oblique order." He paused for a moment to scrawl out the positions on the board. "In each brigade there are roughly around fifteen hundred men. Now, what you said makes sense. We are outnumbered. We do not have any weapons. But we do not have to combat them in person, at least, not yet. We have to slowly weaken the army and use what is called the method of exhaustion."

My fingers dug against the brick wall. Fritz rolled his eyes and swore under his breath.

"And how are we able to do such a grand task?" asked one of the men. "Civilians would never fight for Khonie. Nor would they be convinced to train and leave their families behind."

"If they are inclined to join us, they will never have to struggle to gain access to fresh drinking water again. Or food. That is what they are most desperate for." Covey remained still. "People are easily misled. First, they blame us for the water shortage, because they are lacking. They understand that what they need is out there, and what they need to get it. Free water? Compared to how much they have to scrape by for a bottle? Here we will train them. They are just as angry as we are, even more so. Baldwin is not as popular or well liked down here as he used to. The hunt for Khonie is getting more scarce than ever because there are so few of us left, but it is still going. That includes all of us.”

"But where will get this water from?" Fritz loudly interjected. "We have more groups of people coming here by impossible means of their own. New people showed up last night talking about a bright blue light, and I won't stand by anyone denying the fact that the beast is still alive. That is absurdity. The one who controls ice and snow. It's not dead. We need to scour every area in the woods until it is caught and burned to the stake. That is what we should be most concerned about. Not some silly, unreliable notes that you all can’t seem to get out of your heads.” He held the stack of papers close to a candle. “I say we burn them and create our own plan.”

“Stop, what are you doing?!” George yelled. He snatched them out of his hand. “Don’t do that, we need those.”

“Says who? These papers are a waste of time,” Fritz snapped. “I’m simply doing what is the best for all of us.”

Ki'luwani shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would something that intends to kill us bring us food? We would've starved those last couple of years hadn't been for whoever kept leaving those turtle shells behind. I don't think, whoever this person or thing may be, intends to harm us in any way." His voice grew soft. “I really don’t.”

"You're speaking nothing but foolishness," Fritz spat. "Curse it all, what is wrong with you people? Perhaps you are a traitor to us, and we should offer you and leave you in the woods as a sacrifice to the beast."

"Oh yeah?" the boy snapped back. He rose from his seat so abruptly the lopsided chair fell over with a loud clatter. "Then that will be eventually each man in this room as well, if we’d do things your way. Every new group of people that we have encountered mentioned that this beast you so claim to be has already destroyed through six security wards. Six. Burned to the ground. The generals can't figure it out where the beast come and goes. Neither can we. But we can conclude that if it had wanted do something to us it would've attacked already. The soldiers are starting to panic and lose focus, and that actually gives us more leverage for us to reach those who are still imprisoned. The beast had done more than what you could ever do even if you tried. You're too scared to do anything."

A dark red shade fell on Fritz's face.

"That's enough," George erupted, causing each man to look up. He spoke a bit softer. "Look. I know you've all been confused about what is going on, but we need to make our way through the coastal cities. Several of those security camps have been burned down to the ground, with dozens of soldiers killed and the prisoners untouched. We need not focus on what the beast may do. We need to work our way up and get to those in Jova. Jova is our goal. For three years we've been afraid of the wrong thing. Wasting precious moments over a figment of our imaginations. I say it's time we put our worries about this particular beast, who has yet to attack us, to the side."

"You can't--" Fritz began, his face crumbling with deep disappointment.

"I said what I said," George fiercely said. "I've had enough of you trying to dictate what we can and can't do." He turned to face the men in front of him. "We will began traveling tonight. We will follow what is written. Anyone who disagrees can stay behind at the village with the womenfolk and the children; they are free to leave now. Those who stay, you are doing a service to those who need us the most. Those who know how to shoot a rifle--us four--will instruct those along the way. There are some abandoned factories in these areas. We may be able to recover more ammunition there. Flanders is our next stop, and I do not want to hear any more bickering. Especially between you two." He pointed at Fritz and Ki'luwani.

As the men began to silently file out the door, I remained in the shadows, pondering, watching their forms slip into the dark. Their footsteps were in sync, crouching and huddled low against each other, like packs of wolves in the night. In the dense trees, as they made their way through the piles of rubble and dirt, the stench of decaying corpses filled the air; the dilapidated buildings sagged and crumbled. What was once a bustling place was now nothing but an empty skeleton, and the scorched earth told me that the Red Mambas had only just begun their next mission.

The rain began to let up, forming a light drizzle.

When the group paused to rest after several miles, I lingered in the branches above as they set up a small camp. I hugged my knees, perched up and alert in case any harm would come their way. The boys for the most part were deeply silent, and Fritz had a dark, sullen expression in his eyes. While some of the men were roasting the rabbit they had caught, George had wandered off, away. His face was downcast, and the map he held in his hands was faded, stained and curled up at the edges. As he stood in between a cluster of dense trees, he looked up in the darkness. I stared at him from behind the thick, large leaves. His eyes were red rimmed, looking into practically nothing in the pitch black in front of him.

”Milo.”

The word sent shivers down my spine. George's voice was raspy, quiet. It was horribly unlike him. He often always spoke with clarity and confidence. I immediately moved back; deeply startled that he had remembered my false name so very well.

He swallowed hard. "I know you’re here.”

He waited for some hint of a response, which did not come. I remained still; my hand wrapped around a tree branch. After a long silence, he retreated back to the group. The moon had fully revealed itself in the night sky, a distant white sphere in the dark.

* * * * * *

I added more notes, sometimes stealing a candle so I could see properly in the dark. I didn't know if Fritz noticed, because I was always out of sight by the time morning arrived, not even daring to come close during the day. In order to better my abilities, I memorized the pull and the waves of the ocean, holding my hands out as the water began to morph and shape underneath my efforts, before collapsing, grunting in pain as it sloshed to the surface. My breaths were heavy, and a ringing noise would settle in my ears, before I would try again.

Blood traveled from my nose to my lips as I managed to create another large wave and direct it at a tree, forming sharp ice blades. The wood was sliced in half, causing it slide down and collapse into thick pieces, eventually being covered in frost.

When I slowly exhaled, my breath became visible in the growing cold air.

I stared at my glowing blue palms for a moment, before concentrating, holding my hands out towards the tall grass blades, which cut them neatly in half and stripped the earth’s outer layer bare; replacing it with a full cover of transparent ice.

At night, I followed any soldiers I still spotted in the cities, careful not to make a sound. Knowing they had seen my tracks, I moved swiftly. The enemies' grenades shook the dilipidated city of Portia as I dove behind a dilipated building, the heat of the explosion scorching my skin. Vibrations rang through the earth, under my hands. The muffled shouts and screaming filled my ears as I formed ice blades around my hands, before leaping on a unsupecting soldiers and driving it deep in his head, stealing his firearm. Another explosion shook the earth, bricks, wood, and stone raining from the sky and falling on top of my head. I coughed and spat out more rubble out my mouth as I reloaded my rifle, and, gritting my teeth, began to fire. Three men went down, and one's brains splattered against the wall. Slowly, I took deep breaths, fighting the temptation to use ice to freeze everyone, knowing how low I was on energy.

Blobs of liquid rose in the air from the mud, and my hands shook as I formed them into tendrils, swinging from one top of a building to the next, feeling dizzy as the pain in my head worsened. I attempted to make my way through the dense smoke and ash. My hand wrapped around a rifle that a soldier had dropped.

I landed on top of a remaining building, crouching down on my heels.

My bare feet curled around the broken concrete as I stared at the Red Mambas down below, gathering behind obstacles, reloading and shooting. There was a popping sound, and I went down with a groan, clutching my side, feeling blood soak my clothing. Pain shot through my body, and more bullet holes appeared on the roof beside me. I rolled down my side, gritting my teeth. Puddles of water appeared from where my water tendrils used to be, damp pebbles clinging to my skin. My fingers were slick with blood as I reached for my weapon and laid down on my stomach and, with a shaky breath, aimed at the sniper who had gotten me. For a moment, time slowed. I took three breaths and pulled the trigger, as my vision began to get more blurry.

A bright red dot appeared on his forehead as he went backwards, collapsing in the dirt with a heavy thud.

"Mwen te fé," I softly whispered.

The water spilled on the ground, mixing in with the blood leaking out of me. I mustered every ounce of energy I had left, hearing ice crackle, in the midst of the fire and smoke. I doubt anyone could see it, because I sure couldn't. When I leaped down from one ice slope and landed on the ground, clutching my side, the light glowing blue in my hands, I gazed at the lifeless eyes of the soldiers in front of me.

It began to snow harder as the wall crumbled and shattered, into a nearby security ward, chunks of shattered brick littering the ground. The gun slipped out of my hands and onto the ground as I made my way through, towards the cabins, where the prisoners were huddled in a corner, staring at me, before fleeing in the open gap I made. There were around several hundred, give or take. Their rapid footsteps made their way past the rows of dead soldiers on the ground, slipping and falling halfway on the ice I had created. I heard the shouts of men, their voices becoming intertwined into each other. They screamed at the blue in my eyes, my skin, my white hair, the water tendrils around me like snakes in the air, before fleeing.

I stared after them for a while, water beading in my eyes, before disappearing in the night.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The bullet had only grazed me, and I used salt water from one of the tide pools near the beach to rinse the blood out and remove the bullet, biting down on a piece of cloth to muffle the noises I made. My hair was heavy and thick, up to my waist, with leaves and twigs stuck in it; a curtain that was always covering my face. As I raked my hands through my scalp, I realized with disappointment that the lice had returned again.

I heard their rumors. No one knew where the notes were coming from, or why there were more people suddenly appearing at their location. I heard them talk about it in the villages, amongst their families, or how their wells never seemed to run out of water, even on scorching, hot days. They added more people to stand guard around the village, so my efforts to confine sneaking in was in vain. So I began leaving my notes in the turtle shells at the place I left food for them in, hoping they would find them there.

* * * * * *

My eyes fell on the two dresses hanging from the clothesline once I returned back to the woods one early morning. I stopped in my tracks, staring at them for a moment, before rushing forward to my cave. I noticed a neatly folded pile of several shirts and pants that had my name carefully spelled on a note on top of them in handwriting I immediately recognized. Alongside the new clothing were a small basket filled with orange mangoes, still warm from the sun. Freshly picked.

When I found that the cave was empty, I ran down the hill, slipping and tumbling. As I stepped between two trees and gently cleared a branch out of my face, a hint of a smile fell on face when I saw Honda’s still form, asleep in between a small place she had fashioned for herself in between the bushes. Her fingers were stained with paint, and her satchel hung from a tree branch. Here Boy was knocked out next to her. Not wanting to wake the both of them, I quietly slipped away, a wave of relief washing over me, assuming that she must’ve come back very late in the night.

I heavily scrubbed at my bloody shirt as the sun began to rise, watching the water in the stream turn pink. As I tightly wrung the material the best I could I rinsed the blood off me, trying to avoid looking my reflection, I closed my eyes and smiled again, relieved that I was no longer alone.

After stepping out of the stream and limping out on the sandy bank, I gave Eli large handfuls of grass, which he lazily munched on as I yanked on a worn but clean shirt over my head, hiding the blood stained cigarette packet under a tree stump. He loudly bleated at me, causing me to smile a bit. I got ready to pull up some potatoes and vegetables to collect for the newest addition of people to the village. I had only placed three large ones into an empty turtle shell when I heard the sound of footsteps coming up against the dirt and several twigs breaking.

Panic rushed through me as I quickly scrambled to my feet, suddenly wanting to get to the place where I knew Honda and Here Boy were. I knew that if was were discovered out here, they would likely force her back to the village. But there was no time to do so, and I immediately climbed up a tree, only just ducking behind the leaves as a man's figure appeared in the distance, in the dense morning fog. He was downcast, and dark circles sat under his eyes as he trudged up the hill, examining my shirts and Honda's two dresses blowing on a makeshift clothesline. He stared at Eli, who loudly bleated at him, and then at awe at the garden that was starting to produce some okra, ripe tomatoes. When his eyes fell upon the turtle shell I had stupidly left out into the open, I got a better glimpse of his face, stunned to realize it was George.

The man looked to be a lot older compared to when I had last seen him. A few grays had snuck up their way into his beard and hair. He walked with a stooped back; a dozen worry lines were present on his face. I slowly hugged my knees, praying that he would leave, that he believed this place belonged to someone else. But he stood there for a very long time, picking up the turtle shell and staring at it. My heart pounded heavily as he glanced at the cave on the steep hill above, at the way the wind blew its moss covered entrance. Just as he was about to move forward, a voice echoed in the air, piercing the deafening silence.

"George!"

We both slightly jumped. Fritz was at the bottom of the hill, his hands cupped around his mouth. When he waved his arms impatiently in the air, it was as if George struggled to find his voice for a moment.

"I'm coming. Give me a minute."

"Well, would you please hurry up already? Jene is looking for you. She wants to introduce you to the new people. What are you doing up here by yourself, anyways?" He squinted in the dull light. "It's creepy at night."

"I said I'm coming."

With a scoff, although appearing to be slightly taken aback at his friend's sudden sharp tone, Fritz turned away and hurried back through the bushes, where the silence of the trees remained. George gently put down the turtle shell, staring at the ground, clearly lost in a moment of contemplation. I expected him to dash it to pieces against a rock and smash every acre of food that we had at the moment. But he didn’t, just continued to stand there.

His eyes were bloodshot and swollen, and as he turned his head to the trees I held my breath, not daring to even swallow. He was only moments away from alerting the entire village of my presence. And I began to wonder if someone had really seen me. But as he gazed upon the small vegetables that we had planted, it shook me to my core and made my throat go entirely dry.

Something burned in my eyes, got them a bit moist at the edges. He slowly retreated his steps, back down from the hill he had come from. When I was absolutely sure he was gone, I stepped out, stuck in a bewildered state that I barely had the strength to continue harvesting what little produce we had at the moment. As I plucked two more orange tomatoes from the vines, my head was spinning. Perhaps it would be best for Honda and I to leave; although such an idea would put us at risk if we were to be discovered.

I was so preoccupied in these plans that I nearly ended up dropping the turtle shell and spilling out its contents all over the ground due to a shadow that blocked the rising sun. When I spun around, I exhaled in relief at the sight of Honda, who had descended below without me even noticing, stumbling forward. Groggy with sleep, she wiped at the crust that had settled on her eyelids with her sleeve, her hair as wild and tangled around her shoulders as a bird's nest. I rarely saw it out of its braid, but now, it was freely flowing in the wind. Dried lines of saliva marked her cheeks, and several pimples had formed on her chin, on her large nose. She softly smiled at me, revealing the large gap between her two crooked teeth, while shivering and barefoot in the cool air, only in a long, white nightgown that was quite big on her. I fought to pry my eyes away from her.

She looked like an angel.

"Good morning," she cheerfully signed. “How did you sleep?"

"Good morning," I quietly said, avoiding the second question and trying to ignore the dark red hue settling on my face. I prayed she didn't see the blood stained shirt that I had left soaking in the water behind a rock, or the blood that outlined my dirty fingernails. I didn't want her to notice my hands, or the cigarette burns on my palms. "I hope I didn't disturb you." I paused, only managing to finally look her in the eyes.

Honda looked a bit confused, but I made my way forward though the fog, and slowly draped a large, thick quilt around her shoulders. As I gently moved her thick hair out the way to do so, my hands accidentally brushed the back of her freckled neck, electricity shooting through my own spine. I hung behind her for a moment, really wanting to hold her, my palms only inches from her.

She eagerly thanked me, wrapping herself tighter in the knitted fabric, lazily stretching her arm outwards. One loose sleeve blew in the wind, in the empty space, substituting her other missing one. When she closed her eyes and inhaled the sharp, cool wind, her hair blew back behind her, a bush of chaotic, matted curls. I wanted to thank her for the unexpected gifts that she had continued to leave for me. I found that I gazed at her for too long, with a smile forming on my lips, because when she opened her eyes and stared at me I immediately looked down again, face flushing. I turned my focus to a large okra plant in the garden, its leaves full of holes from the caterpillars that munched on its surface.

”What?”

“I’m just really glad you’re here,” I softly whispered.

A deep color settled on her cheeks. “I hope I wasn’t gone for too long.”

“Not at all.” Although I was very curious about where she had went, I did not want to be intrusive. She was alive. That was all that mattered to me.

"Here Boy snores too loud. Are you hungry? What would you like? I can cook something, make some breakfast. I’m sorry if you hadn’t anything really good for a while, but hopefully I can make it up for you." Her carefree expression changed as she studied me. "What is wrong?"

"Have you seen anyone out here?”

Honda shook her head. I slowly took a step closer to her and picked up the turtle shell lying on the ground.

"Best be careful.” The next sentence came out into a whisper, and I found myself gently pushing a strand of hair out her face, the knuckles of my hand against her smooth cheek. “Please.”

She gave me a single nod, a dark red haze creeping on the bridge of her nose. I dropped my palm to my side and looked down, incredibly flustered with myself for reaching out to her like that. Before I could apologize, her hand slowly wrapped around my own. Yet my arms had lightly settled around her waist; I had drawn her close to me and didn't realize it until her body brushed against mine. I found myself desperately holding onto her. My heart was pounding as she pulled me into an embrace, our noses inches apart, hair tangled in the blowing wind. The quilt around her smelled like grass and dirt, and the turtle shell in my hand fell to the ground. The sensation of my lips first brushing against her own was of a feather, light and smooth. Like a blooming flower, something unfolded within me; and the kiss was warm and tender, our tongues slipping down amongst each other.

I failed to make sense of what was coursing through me at the moment as I very slowly led her into a deeper, longer one, which was more heavenly than I could've ever imagined. Due to my inexperience and clumsiness the last ounce of restraint I had broke down; I found myself slipping further and further below. She lightly exhaled before her mouth found mine once more, trapping us both into a state of unexplainable bliss. Her skin was soft; hand wrapped around mine with each deep, lingering kiss. I was breathless; her chest against mine, my hands slowly running up and down her smooth back. When we finally parted, a thin line of saliva broke between us. She gently tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear with her paint stained fingers.

I gazed at her, unable to speak. My arms were still glued around her slender waist.

“I love you,” she signed, her breath warm against my neck. A smile spread on her lips. Her gray eyes were solemn, sincere, looking deep in my soul. “You can still whisper it in my ear every night if you’d like. And I will tell you every morning.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Honda quietly laughed at my stunned expression, her face a deep shade of pink, hugging the quilt tighter against her body. Her hair blew towards the trees, where the crickets stopped chirping long ago and the fireflies had disappeared. After she placed a shy, gentle kiss on the left side of my face, she turned and rushed through the woods, her bare feet pounding against the dirt, loudly splashing through some puddles from last night’s rain. She did not look back. The long white nightgown she wore blew around her legs, the hem muddy and torn. Eli loudly bleated at me from afar. I slowly sank on a nearby tree stump in a daze to watch her disappear, the sensation of her soft lips still against my own.