Dialogue is property of Libba Bray.

The Rakshana still do not know. I have paced the camp day and night, distracted myself with useless tasks, but still, they have not come. I now face the humiliating prospect of going to them myself. Of telling them that I have failed. What will become of me? Will the Rakshana still accept me into their group? I know the answer to none of these questions; I can only wait for answers.

This night is particularly frigid, but it was not just the weather that was turning my bones to ice. In the pit of my stomach was a dark, dreaded feeling that followed me like a silent ghost. When my back was turned, the presence was still gripping at my shoulders begging me to look it in the eye. In the middle of the night, near to sleep, my ghost releases me and becomes reality. I lie on the forest floor, sharp twigs digging into my back and pine needles sticking to the wool of my black cape. I keep my mind blank, content with the lack of humming and swirling. The night sky peeking through the near bare branches was clear and calm, hundreds of sparkling stars lighting up the country.

One moment the forest is still, the owls hoots a remote sound in the darkness, and then racing through the forest I can see three white figures. I sit up quickly just as a frantic deer whips past me on its way towards the ravine. I back behind a tree as the others approach and I see that in lead is Miss Worthington. She is naked in the moonlight, dark shadows casting over the dips and curves of her slim body. She runs past me, her bare feet cracking the sticks I had just lay on. Miss Cross is close behind, her hair loose and shining blue in the darkness. Her figure is fragile and her skin is as creamy as a porcelain doll. Next is Miss Bradshaw, huffing and puffing as she attempts to keep up with the others. Her plump form is hidden by the darting shadows.

I freeze, unsure of what to do, and then I see another coming towards me. Flyaway red curls catch my eye and I see it is Gemma Doyle sprinting after them – fully clothed and weighed down by the excess fabric. She hurtles past me and I follow at a slower pace. I lose sight of where she has gone but go to the direction of the ravine, noticing the trampled bushes and path steering through the damp leaves. When the trees thin and open to the small clearing and ditch I see the four girls standing at the edge of the gorge. I step back when I take them in, savage and bloody. Miss Doyle, far less beast-like than the others, notices me. But Felicity’s pale, wild eyes turn on me with as much menacing force as a hyena looking for prey.

“What are you doing here?” She screams and her voice is like nails on a slate.

I do not answer, but notice the slick rock in Gemma’s hand that she drops on the soft earth with a muffled thud. I look back to Felicity but she has quickly picked up a sharp stick and is now charging at me. Her force rips through my shirt and skin resulting in a shallow but painful gash. I lean over with a groan and hold fast to my chest, stopping the bleeding.

“I told you we’d carve your eyes out the next time,” she growls through clenched teeth.

I stay quiet, in shock over Felicity’s display.

“Stop!” Gemma yells. “Let him go and I’ll take you into the realms.”

Felicity poises over me, frozen and ready to attack.

Pippa chimes in, her voice shaky, “Fee. She’s going to take us.”

Felicity backs away from me and joins the others.

“She’ll give us the power once we’re there. I’m sure of it.” Felicity is tight lipped.

My hand clutched to my chest, crouched on the ground I give Gemma a worried look. Her eyes match mine, glazed over with anxiety and fear but she gives me an assuring nod and leads the girls back to their clothing, to the caves, and into the mystery of the realms.

I return to my tent and wait for their return. I am confused with the puzzle of the realms and my meager knowledge of it. I find myself wondering what it looks like, if it was as beautiful as Gemma said. What was the power Felicity and the others craved so much?

Only moment after I settle down, Gemma is standing outside in a frenetic flurry. Silently I follow her to the cave and listen as she tells me a jumbled story involving a deceiving huntress, a wraith, and Pippa drowning. She leads me to the cave where Pippa Cross is twitching in a deep slumber. I hoist her onto my back and carry her past the ravine, noticing the slaughtered deer in the hole, and up to Spence. I leave Miss Cross in her room and Gemma handles the rest. I slip through the cold marble and stone interior that makes up the school and back out into the night. Weary-eyed I grab one of the gypsy camp’s shovels and a lantern. I go to the ravine and begin to dig.

I plunge into the muddy soil again and again. For some reason, I found it necessary to dig this grave. It was one less forgotten being. It was one more life taken. I found it necessary to remember that. Remember everything that is wrong in the world, the ability for humans to do good but continuously doing wrong. I remembered the sight of the bodies in India, dead on the sides of roads and cold in the heat. The body I remembered the most, was Amar – the way I found him after the rain lifted. Thrown away from the crowd that had surrounded Virginia Doyle, his face twisted in horror and eyes blank with lifelessness. And then I forgot. I place the mangled deer in the grave, wiping the blood off my hands and burying the memories, burying the dead. Burying the deer just as I buried my brother.

Review! And please check out my one shot Pippa story and review it! It’s called Warrior Queen and you can access it from my profile (for some reason I can’t place the link up). And maybe even look at my Ann story The Savior and review that too? It’s only two chapters!