PART 2

Chapter 11

The arrow flew straight towards bulls' eye and landed on its mark.

Straightening her elbow, she lowered the hand-fashioned weapon onto the moss-covered ground. Crudely drawn, the target on the tree was slightly crooked, carved from a sharp rock and dug into the bark, to illustrate 5 rough circles, one around the other. It was primitive, yes, but it was her own handiwork. And she'd never been one to snub that. She walked towards the tree, and bent down on one knee right in front of the target. Looking up, she stared at the center in an almost inspective manner. Her two fingers reached up, putting the stick between them, grabbing hold of it gently. It was exactly where it was supposed to be-right on the center mark, the smallest circle of the circles. It had finally hit its mark after a week of practice. She couldn't stop staring: the sight mesmerized her. But finally, as it always does, her head slowly returned to its usual practical, level place.

Sweeping her dark auburn hair to one shoulder in a single, swift move, Ruby stood back up on her black leather boots.

The bow and arrow was a classic hunter's tool. But her weapon of choice was always the glinting silver knife that was strung around her hips, even now as she pulled the stick-arrow out of the tree. Expanding her skills had been the only way to get back on her hunting game, since running into Jack and his posse was now definitely not an option-plus, it had kept her distracted from her sister's loud, pretentious moaning and whining for the past two weeks. Ruby had spent those two weeks sharpening and mastering her hunting techniques, by learning to use new weapons and make new traps, so she and her sister wouldn't starve to death in their little reclusive home, deep, deep inside the forest. Rosaline had spent that same time staring at her nails and crying miserably over her dead friends. As expected, the good-for-nothing blonde twit hadn't been of any help in surviving to Ruby. But she was still her sister, and the blood they shared was the only thing keeping her in their new home, with Ruby. She was a lone hunter-not a babysitter.

Keeping them both alive, though, had been a challenge. They couldn't fish or go to the berry bushes too close to the beach, from fear of being spotted by one of Annabelle's, or even worse, Jack's people. Annabelle would try and convince them to come back, and the hunters would be on her tail in an instant for killing all of their game. It was Ruby who'd kept them from anything worthy of a feast ever since they'd got on this island-she who had hunted down the biggest pigs in the forest. Now that the numbers were shrinking down, she had to start being more careful-if Jack or any of his malicious, self-absorbed hunters found out about her making more kills than they did, they'd never let her get away with standing on both feet, alive and well. What they might do to keep the meat all to themselves wouldn't surprise Ruby. Even if she'd never been one of them, she knew them all too well-selfish, vain, and bloodthirsty. She had to especially watch out for Hazell, the manipulative head bitch of them all. If she was a little bit stronger and a guy, she'd be one running the show with Jack's crew right now. But there was no doubt that innocent-eyed Hazell had the strongest will to kill.

Rosaline was, for once, silently munching on half a melon when Ruby returned to their camp. It was nothing short of a grand hotel: Branches of two tall trees held together with hand-fashioned grass rope, a covering of banana leaves and a dirt floor welcomed her back to her glorious home. Two blankets salvaged from the plane served as a bed and both girls leaned on one very thick tree stump root as their pillow. Her sister sat on a low branch as if it were a swing, only her legs swinging back and forth as sweet juice from the melon ran down her fingers. Limbs bare and adorned with cuts and an uneven tan, with her only remaining sundress dirtied like rags, Rosaline was a mess. Ruby, at least, was used to looking pretty rough every now and then. But seeing her normally perfectly manicured and blown-out haired twin like this now almost unnerved her.

"You're hungry for a change," she noted as she passed her, heading towards her own favourite seat- a spacious stump she enjoyed sitting and contemplating about her future hunting tactics on. Rosaline eyed her grudgingly as she sat down, her forehead and un-plucked brows crinkling. "When are we going to go back, Ruby? When our hair starts graying? I'm serious, we're not on some survival TV show here. We're living it. And I'd rather do it in the most civilized environment possible."
"Well, that's not going to happen, considering there is no civilized environment around here." Ruby grabbed a red fruit from the pile, and sank her teeth into it. "Not gonna get the E Network if we go back to Annabelle."

"But she was at least reasonable, Ruby. You're not!" Hopping down from the tree, Rosaline gave her sister the most despising glare she could with her tired, hollow eyes and nearly concaving face. "You think you're so much better than Jack, but you're just like one of them. Cruel. Ruthless. Obsessed with killing."
"Oh yeah?" Ruby went on consuming her fruit nonchalantly. "If I'm so ruthless, why did I bring you out here, huh?"

"To torture me, I'm guessing."

"To protect you, Rosaline." Finishing the last few bites of the juicy flesh, she tossed the remaining pit into the dirt, and ground it into the grass with the bottom of her boot. "I'm doing all of this so we can live together safely. Until help comes. Which could be any day now, or years away, as far as I know. But until that day, you're only safe with me."

"And why on earth would you want to keep me safe?"

"I told you before-you're my sister. Whether I like it or not, you're still flesh and blood."

"Which you never used to care about before. You hate me-and I hate you. So why are you suddenly running for sister of the year?" Rosaline moved in closer, staring coldly directly into Ruby's own eyes. "We may not be very close, but I know you enough to know that you don't do things without an ulterior motive."

"I'm not as bad as you may think of me, you know." This time it was Ruby who inched in even closer, now nearly nose-to-nose with her sister. "I know we haven't exactly been sisterly in the past. But it doesn't change the fact-you ARE my sister. My twin sister, in fact. And if it means showing our parents just how well I can take care of my family, then I'll protect you to the very last minute."

"Ah, I'm getting the picture now," said Rosaline, smirking. "Mom and Dad. Of course. Telling them you killed baby pigs for a hobby while you were stuck here wouldn't exactly fly too easily with our parents. We both know them well enough, but you should know that side of them better."

"Smarter than you look, Rose." Ruby backed away first, returning to her tree stump without turning her body. "I'll give you credit for that."

"I am related to you, don't forget." Smiling slyly, her sister climbed back up the tree and sat down on her branch once more. She'd been wrong of course-not entirely wrong, but Ruby did have good intentions for once in protecting her sister. However, she gave the girl silent recognition for what was the first thing closest to a compliment she had ever given her.

"Hey, Annabelle! We've got a massive load today, you should come see!" The enthusiastic boy pointed to the slowly sinking net of plentiful fish in his other hand.

"I'll be right there, Maurice," she replied, smiling back. The sun was out, thank goodness, making the weather perfect for the fishers to bring in another catch. Following the head of the crew, Roger and Mathalina came walking hand in hand, more bundles of sea life piled over their shoulders. Yep, Annabelle thought, putting the couple together in the fishing trio had made the work a heck of a lot easier. All three of them worked together perfectly.

"Maurice!" A hyped-up Joelle dashed down the beach like lightning, racing to throw her arms around her boyfriend and give him a big, make-others-around-them-want-to-throw-up kiss on the lips. Annabelle proceeded to fake-gag, laughing, while Joelle now hopped into Maurice's sufficiently strong arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Keep it PG, okay?" The couple detached from each other sheepishly as Annabelle pointed to Tessarose, the youngest in the camp. The 12-year old merely stood with a hand on one hip, snickering. The girl may be young, but she had proved herself to be very reliable-Tess didn't seem to have moved an inch from her station by the fire the whole time Annabelle and Joelle had been collecting in the forest.

"Ahhh," she said, stretching and laying flat on the sand. "Finally, I can enjoy a long, nice rest on the beach…looking up at the clouds…sun tanning, maybe?" She lifted an eyebrow at her friends, a grin slowly creeping up her lips.

Her friends. It was so nice to actually have real friends.

Being on the island had been difficult. Being in charge of everyone, all 24 of the island's inhabitants had been a challenge. And nearly half of the survivors dying horrible deaths all in one week…it had made her job nearly impossible. So when half of that remaining group left her to follow Jack, she could've completely fallen apart. She nearly had. So close to giving up, so close to throwing in everything she'd worked for from the beginning, Annabelle had instead found the strength to stand on her feet again. Not without, of course, the help of her friends. They were her real friends, all of them-Joelle, Maurice, Tessarose, Roger, and even Mathalina, whom she'd had doubts about at first. They were all proving to be such cooperative, genuine friends to her, and it meant that Annabelle wasn't just the one in charge of everything. In their new camp, equality was the most important factor, and this time, she was positively set on sharing her role of leadership, as well as all other roles within the group.

Jobs had been assigned equitably to everyone. Mathalina, Roger, and Maurice were the fishers. They went out to work from morning to mid-afternoon, while Joelle and Annabelle picked fruits and berries from the forest, as well as bottling water from the lake. Tessarose was in charge of watching their signal fire, which they all agreed to keep right in their sight on the beach. They'd created, together, a system for everything. Things were finally in place, and the whole group working together with order and peace-it was all Annabelle had wanted from the start. And no one could take it away anymore.

Of course, even reminiscing about the past, two weeks ago to be specific, always brought up one name: Jack. The power-hungry hunter obsessed with taking over the group, and being a leader of his own. Of course, that desire had come true for him-but he couldn't take away everyone from Annabelle. It was silly to think that he'd want to give her grief for no reason, or to even imagine why he hated her so much. But the truth was, he did; or maybe it wasn't hate, maybe he had just been jealous that he couldn't be in control over everybody. Well now that the two groups were completely split off-neither of them having contacted or even spotted each other for the past two weeks-Jack was free to domineer his little circle of hunters as he pleased.

"Annabelle, you want us to put some of these in the saving pile?" Roger asked. "Mathalina and I could have at least half of these dried-there's a huge lot today."

"You know what to do, Roger," she replied simply. Giving a quick nod, he paced back towards Mathalina, who whispered something to him. She held his face in her hands, and they began to kiss ardently. Now that their relationship had come out in the open, displays of affection had also become public.

See, Annabelle thought to herself. Everything's perfectly fine. Life is organized, systematic, and great.

But…for everything he'd done to her and the others, especially Lucy, Annabelle hoped Jack was at least paying his dues. He deserved it.

No, how could she even think that? Annabelle felt confused; Jack had hurt them, and betrayed all of them by leaving, and it had nearly ruined her. She knew if she'd been any weaker than the girl she was, she would've chased after him in no time, asked him to come back. It was agreeable, that things had turned for the worse after Jack left. But she had worked her way back up, without any of his help. So really, Jack hadn't torn her down-he'd only let her figure out how to take care of her friends with them. Taught her that true leadership meant working as a team.

She felt so good about herself, she almost had a inkling of sympathy for Jack. Almost. After all, the group of kids he'd chosen to play Hitler with wasn't exactly a host of angels. For all she knew, they'd become as cruel and bloodthirsty as their leader.

Eh, she shrugged off the thought, I'm sure he's better off, whatever he's doing now…

Two eyes swirling with green, brown, and burning fury glowered up at Jack.

"I. Want. Him. Punished."

Hazell loved to make a scene. And now, she was doing so masterfully, as a circle of curious hunters gathered around their chief, her, and Sébastien, in her tight clutch. In his head, Jack moaned in irritation. Now the rest of the camp was going to have to watch this mess. But Hazell was refusing to back down, and neither was he.

"I don't care what you want," he replied as calmly as possible. "I'm the chief. I make the rules, and I say you're wasting my time with your silly problems."
"YOU made the rule that all rule-breakers should be punished," she hissed. "And I think being whipped for stealing my meat is the proper punishment." Sébastien had apparently been caught taking some of Hazell's private stash of game, from their last big hunt. And now she was asking that he pay the price by being whipped. By her, of course, to make it personal. To be completely honest, Jack didn't care what happened to Hazell's meat. She was selfish and had hoarded the entire lot, claiming herself to be the rightful owner considering she had caught the pig by herself. Obviously, it would have been impossible for her to do it without Jack's feigned ambush. He should've known it would be a mistake to let her keep the meat. And now that mistake was returning to piss him off.

He would've sighed if it wasn't such a big sign of defeat. Instead, he growled animalisticly, baring his teeth at the infuriating girl.

Life as a chief of the hunters was a tiring one.

It was easier than it should have been, yet frustrating. Everyone in camp obeyed him at his first word. No one questioned his authority. No one except Hazell, who was driving Jack insane. The only girl in the camp, and yet she was the most spiteful, vindictive out of all of them. Those qualities fit her role as a hunter perfectly when they were out in the woods. But inside their camp, she was using her manipulative and malicious skills half on bulldozing the other hunters, and half on obsessing over Jack. Unfortunately, doing both at the same time was not exactly helping her win him over. The way she bossed everyone around, it was like she somehow had the mistaken impression that she was a co-leader-which she wasn't. And sometimes she acted out completely on her own. Like now, as her blazing eyes glared at him in an attempt to receive permission for whipping the boy held firmly in her grips.

Jack barely took a look at the shaking boy, before coolly saying, "Release him."

Her jaw dropped open, outraged. "You're letting him go? After he stole from me? That was my meat; that was the kill I made myself. You remember, don't you Jack? I did really well that time, remember?" Her eyes finally narrowed as she snarled, "You can't let him go for this."

"I can, and I am, because I'm the chief." Jack looked back at her with his own sharp gaze. "Remember?"

"If you're the chief, you should know that a crime deserves to be punished." Each word she spat out rang with deep hatred, like she was a python spitting out venom. Preparing for her big line, she put one hand on her hip and curled her lips into a mocking smile. "Or are you just getting weak?"

Alright. This had gone on far too long, and was taking up precious hunting time. And Jack couldn't let Hazell's words get to the other hunters. "Enough," he cut her off in his razor-edged, definitive tone. If the girl didn't know by it that his mind was made up, she was an idiot. And as twisted as she was, Hazell wasn't dumb. Seeing that there was nothing more she could do without going too far and completely enraging him (which would not benefit her case at all), she eyed him over one last time before swiftly turning back on her heels. She was furious, certainly, but she was smart enough to know how to play the game: maintain her forced authority over the others without pushing Jack over board.

As the commotion settled down, and the hunters began scattering back towards camp, one dark-haired boy walked to Jack. Fillip, carrying his spear over one bronzed shoulder.

"What do you want?" He hesitated for a long time before looking up at his leader, and saying cautiously,

"You're not…getting weak, are you, chief?"

"Of course not," he snapped back instantly. "I have my own reasons for not punishing Sébastien. Ones you don't need to be concerned with."

"Of course," said Fillip, quicker than before. "I'm sorry, chief, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," Jack replied flatly. Fillip was silent. Jack wished he would say something. Anything. A month ago, he and Sébastien had been like his buddies-lesser, obedient little buddies, yes, but they were still somewhat friends, all the same. They weren't treating him like his friends anymore. They didn't even have fun when they hunted together. It was all about killing the pig, and getting the meat. Although if Jack commanded them to have fun, they probably would. It was driving him crazy.

"So what should I do now?" Fillip asked again, waiting patiently for their chief to give out new orders, to tell him exactly what to do and how to do it.

"Let's just go." And Jack pivoted to return to camp.

"Okay, okay, at least tell me where we're going," giggled Joelle as she stepped over tangle of berry bushes.

"It's a surprise, Joelle, you're not supposed to know," her boyfriend answered teasingly. His hands were firmly clamped over her eyes, arms wrapped around her from behind and guiding her way. The blinded girl was

Ever since she'd finally told the boy she liked about her true past, she'd known he was someone she could trust. Maurice had accepted her for who she was now, without judging her for her one, terrible childhood crime. But even as he stroked her hair and hugged her tight and told her that his feelings for her wouldn't change, the fact that he knew such an awful part of her couldn't be erased from Joelle's mind. She was the one who kept worrying; picturing her boyfriend whom she'd grown to care about so much thinking deep inside, thinking about how his girlfriend was a murderer, had kept her up several nights.

"Just a little bit further...ready…and…open your eyes!" The warm palms of her boyfriend released her from the pitch dark, revealing the most beautiful sight before her.

They were standing on the beach, only it wasn't their beach; for the first time, echoes of the rustling sea could be heard over the dead silence. They were alone on the sand, untouched, footprint-free expanses of sand laid out around them. The gentle waves rolling in and out, in and out on the shore just nearly touched the two medium-sized rocks, the salvaged plane blanket spread between them, and the incredible, amazing, absolutely stunning array of food placed on it. The picnic was like art, truly a sight to behold; leaf plates and stone dishes of all kinds of fish and other strange sea life, all decorated with sprinkles of red and purple berries could be seen. On each side was a pile of fruits as well, and in the middle of it all, like a glorious centerpiece, was small, but very noticeable, very well cooked plate of what clearly looked like meat. Juicy, brown and crisped at the corners, grilled-perfectly-on-fire meat. It could've been heaven for all she knew.

"Oh-oh, Maurice!" Joelle could barely get the words out of her mouth. The joy was too much to contain-she leapt into his arms and gave him a long, passionate thank-you kiss. "How did you do this? And why? I mean, thank you, I love it, but-but where did you get the meat?"

Maurice laughed. "Just sit down, and I'll explain everything." Planting a kiss on her head, he led the way to the masterful picnic. "It's just what you deserve."

"I deserve…for what, exactly?" It was still difficult for her to speak as she sat down in front of the delicious-looking assortments of food. She had to keep looking up at Maurice's sheepishly grinning face to restrain from salivating.

"So…tell me, why do all this for me? I mean, I know we've been dating for a while now-"

"6 weeks, to be exact," Maurice interrupted, before breaking out into a toothy smile. "It's out 6-week anniversary."

Even her boyfriend's sappy, loving voice couldn't keep her from bursting out with laughter. "6-week anniversary? Seriously, Maurice? Wow, and I thought you were the sane one."

Her boyfriend chuckled. "Well, considering most people in our school don't make it this long, I figured it was reason enough to celebrate."

"Well, I'm glad you did." Leaning over the blanket, she hugged Maurice as tightly as she could. "Because…because, well, I've been worried. Worried about us. Not that there's anything really to be worried about, it's just me. I just thought you still thought about what I did-and I was worried it would make you have second thoughts about me."

He frowned. "Joelle, I told you. I don't care about that. It was in the past, and hearing from your story, you had a right to want to do what you did. You were protecting your mother."

"I know, I know. And I don't want to focus on the past, either." With a grateful smile, she continued, "If you've really accepted me, and you really do still want to be with me, then…then I guess there's nothing to worry about."

An awkward silence fell between the couple for a moment. Clearing his throat, Maurice suddenly looked straight into Joelle's eyes.

"I love you, Joelle."

Those words. She'd craved to hear them all her life. And now she finally had from someone she felt the same way about.

Fighting tears from springing into her eyes, she replied, "I love you too. So much." They kissed. Both giggled embarrassedly, as all teenage couples do after a long-awaited, nervous first confession.

"Well," Maurice spoke first, coughing to try and break up the awkwardness, "What are we waiting for? Let's get to the food! But before we do…" He picked up the coconut glass from the blanket and raised a toast. "To us."

Laughing and crying, Joelle raised her own shell and cheered, "To us!"

"Ouch!" Annabelle let out a painful groan as her toes tripped over an unseen root in the ground. Thanks to her crudely fashioned fire torch, however, she quickly regained balance and landed on the ground with both feet. Each step she took deeper into the forest, wandering alone and directionless in God knows what direction, reminded her of how stupid this was. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should've waited until tomorrow. It had been a risky decision, yes, to go back to the lake just before sunset when she realized her ring was missing-the ring given to her by her father two years ago. Her father was Jewish, and a college professor. The ring he'd presented her with was a symbol of his religion, silver and carved with the Star of David. With anything else, Annabelle wouldn't hesitate to make the smart, sensible decision of waiting until daylight to go look for something in the forest. But with this ring, she felt like she had to find it now. She was not normally one to find security in an inanimate object, but this ring…the thought of not having it on her finger, but lost somewhere in the grass made her nervous. She knew she had to look for it now, or she wouldn't be able to sleep through the night thinking about where it could be.

Annabelle could clearly remember the day, or evening rather, that she got this ring. They'd been in their cozy living room, decorated with maroon and red, she and her parents. It was yet another time after dinner, and the whole family each sat in their usual seats on the sofas, drinking tea: chamomile that night, something to help digest the food and give them all a good night's sleep. During these tea times, the three of them would usually talk, and Annabelle's mother and father would tell her all kinds of things from their lives. In their very own living room her mother had told her the whole story about how she, an Andorran woman, had lived as a refugee in Pakistan from when she was a young girl. She'd always tell her about how horrible her life had been, how she'd been lucky enough to immigrate to America and marry her father, and most frequently about how fortunate Annabelle was to be living where she was. Her mother had gone through countless struggles during her childhood. And both she and Annabelle's father knew what it was like to grow up on their own, to take responsibilities for themselves even from a young age. From their experiences, they'd taught Annabelle to be an individual, and to guide and take care of others.

"You're a strong girl, Annabelle. You have the skills to lead others, and you should always put them to good use," Mother, with kind, dark eyes would say to her, a coffee-skinned hand on the young girl's lap. "Take pride in yourself, and your ability to be an individual. It's a rare gift, especially in these times."

Father would of course have something to say, too, standing over the two women with his cup of tea in one hand, wearing a collegiate argyle or brown wool sweater. "Remember our words, Anna. Your mother's right-you should never stop doing the things God created you to do. Everyone's given a purpose.

So engrossed in her thoughts, Annabelle didn't hear the rustling in the dark-she didn't notice the faint shadow lurking from tree to tree until it was too close. When it finally came to her attention, she snapped her head up, raising her torch high in the air. She swung it around, yelling, "Who's there?"

"Well, look who it is," a definite and familiar voice, low but close enough to be audible, spoke from the black of the trees. Keeping her alarm disguised, Annabelle threw her torch hand outwards, flashing the red flames all around her. Only a tall, broad shadow could be spotted. He, assuming it was a boy from his shape and stature, was hiding.

"Who are you?" She called out. "Come out."

The distinctive figure stepped out into the light.

"Hello, Annabelle." The blonde boy flashed a white-toothed grin.

"Austen," she breathed in relief. She'd been dreading her first encounter with any of the hunters since they had left to form their own camp. Austen, however, had once been a loyal member of her group; he'd even shown a bit of interest in Annabelle during the first few weeks. So if there was any member of Jack's crew that she would've preferred a run-in with first, despite his rather big head, he would be her pick.

"It's been a while," she said, awkwardly making conversation. What was she supposed to say to an ex-friend/pompous hunter who had left her to follow the one guy who truly hated her?

"It has," he agreed nonchalantly. But Annabelle couldn't ignore the fact that his blue-green eyes were staring very blatantly into her face. Was that an almost...dangerous look in his eyes?

"So...um, how have you been?"

He chuckled. "Please. Annabelle. I think we should just get straight to business."

She could no longer hide her fear as her mouth dropped. "What?"

He didn't speak as he looked down at the long, wooden spear in his left hand, playing with it between his fingers. When his sight moved back up to Annabelle, a cold smirk was upon his lips.

"Austen..." She took a step back, silently begging her voice to stop shaking. "What's going on?"

"You've been a nuisance from the beginning to Jack," he spoke so casually, it was frightening. "I mean, without you, he could've been leader a long time ago. Not just over us, but over everyone. All 24 of us. But that couldn't happen-because they're all dead now, thanks to you, right?"

"Austen, please." She felt her voice quivering ever so slightly as the memory returned. "That wasn't my fault. You can't use that against me."

"Can't I?" The boy's voice suddenly grew into a full, enraged flame. "You're the reason Jack isn't happy. I'm the only one who can see it, because-well, frankly, I'm the only one who really knows him."

"Since when are you one of Jack's pathetic groupies?" asked Annabelle, disgusted.

"Since I know that he's right." Austen began to move in closer. "Let's cut the small talk, and stop stalling, shall we?" The hand-fashioned spear glinted menacingly as he inched towards her. "Jack would be better off without you...alive."

Annabelle's heart paced out of time as panic came over her. She would've screamed if her mouth didn't feel so dry. There was no one who could've heard her anyways-she was alone in the middle of the forest, God knew how far away from her friends.

She was utterly alone.

And trapped.

With no weapons in her hands, only a...

Glimpsing down at her right hand and the crude torch in its grip, Annabelle did the one thing she could think of before Austen could realize what was going on.

As the towering boy entered the 5-meter perimeter around her, she struck at his chest with the stick of red, burning fire.

He cried out as the flames licked his bare skin, before jumping backwards. "Shit!"

"Stay away from me-I'm warning you!" In case her words hadn't been threatening enough, Annabelle waved the fire madly towards his face.

But he didn't stay away; on the contrary, with now snarling lips, Austen raised his spear in the air, ready to charge right at her-and kill her.

The panic in her told her there was nothing else to do. Nothing except for what her instinct was telling her. And in times of danger, her instinct was not the greatest at giving advice.

She saw the nearest tree in their slowly narrowing circle-and saw her only chance. Without giving herself a moment to think twice, Annabelle ran to the lowest branch of the tree, and stuck out her torch.

The flames engulfed and drowned the weak, dry branch immediately. It didn't hesitate before leaping from one tree to the next, until suddenly the whole ring of greens surrounding them-or now, surrounding Austen-were lit on fire.

"Shit!" Austen shouted hoarsely as the smoke began seeping into his face. He was already coughing-and already trapped inside the flames. "Shit, Annabelle, you're crazy!"

But Annabelle was already running, running as fast as her feet would carry her, far away from the billowing clouds of smoke and burning wood as she possibly could. And Austen remained in the center of the red, screaming and choking and crying for help-but they both knew that no one could hear him.

Roger was the first to hear the unevenly paced footsteps, the panicked, sharp breaths being taken in and out. The minute he whipped his head towards the unnerving sounds, a girl burst out of the bushes, a terrified and stricken expression in her dark brown eyes.

"Annabelle." Without hesitation, he dashed immediately towards the panting, breathless girl. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"I-I…" As Roger stared at her in utter shock, tears began rolling uncontrollably down Annabelle's distressed face. "I killed him."

"What? Killed who?" By then everyone had surrounded the sobbing leader, watching her fall into Roger's arms crying.

"Austen. He was going to kill me. S-so I used my torch to set fire around him…oh my god, he's dead. He's dead and I-I murdered him."