Young Writers Society

Red earth stretched onward. Mile after dusty mile. By now, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of red and gold. Dead trees dotted the landscape at uneven intervals. But they were leafless trees, charred and scorched by the heat and the drought that plagued the land. On one of the rises of a sandy hill, two figures walked. The one that led the march was a broad shouldered figure, with a purposeful stride. Power emanated off him in waves, but it seemed forced. A mask. Behind him was the much smaller frame of a female. Several feet of space were between them, and it was lengthening as the girl grew weary of their long walk.

“Banit…” The girl spoke, her voice raspy with thirst and the undeniable undertones of humility. The boy slowed, realizing the distance between him and the girl, as he turned his head to look at her. He said not a word, so she continued. “Do you think…? I mean… with what happened to –” The boy stopped short, and faced her. An intensity in his eyes that had her falling silent.

“Don’t say that! We don’t talk about that anymore. You know that…” His voice was determined and left no room for argument. But it was gentle. A voice not used to being harsh or firm. The girl withdrew, her eyes looking at the dry earth beneath her worn out sneakers. With a nod, she was ready to start their walk again. But the boy didn’t move. “Eira…” She looked up at her name, into eyes that were like her own. He had the strong features of manhood, while she had the delicate contours of femininity. Still, there was a similarity in their faces that left no question of the fact that they were twins.

With a small smile on her face she dared to speak up again. “It’s alright, Banit. I understand. I won’t talk about it again.” And she meant it. Her brother wasn’t used to this. She wasn’t used to this. But he had to take care of them. He had to get used to it, because if it were left up to her they’d have died right along with everyone else, days ago. The last thing she wanted to do was make it harder on him with her words. Words that made him uncomfortable.

Though Banit still felt guilty for snapping at her, her easy smile lifted the feeling from his shoulders. With a gentle, slender hand, she touched his arm and nodded again, assuring him that she was okay and ready to continue. “Alright, come on, we have to find shelter before it gets colder.” Eira knew that it wasn’t just the cold that had her brother worried, but the Scavengers. People so deranged they lost all semblance of their humanity to the hunger, and thirst, and death that made up the world.

“You’re okay, right?”

Eira smiled and nodded again. She wasn’t okay. In fact, she felt her body protesting with each breath she took. But it wouldn’t have mattered if she admitted to her weakness or not. They had to get to shelter before the sun set. And if she were tired and weak, making them stop, they’d both be dead. So she lied. She hated to lie to her brother, but they both knew it had to be done. Banit though, read her well, slowing down his long stride so that he was walking only a foot in front of her. He knew her limit, knew that she had passed that limit a long time ago, miles ago. And he knew that it was his fault. Guilt ate at him, but he said nothing as he continued to walk.

A breeze stirred their ash blonde air. But it was a hot wind, which suffocated them, rather than relieved them from the stifling heat. When the sun was no more than a lightened inch of color in the sky, they finally stopped. They had come to a suburban development that loomed dark in the distance. No lights penetrated the silhouettes made by the fading strip of color behind the buildings. “What do you think, Eria? Do you think it’s safe?”

“Do we have a choice?” She replied, coming up to his side. He looked down at her, and studied her face for a moment or two. Her bright silver-blue eyes were shielded by the wisp of bangs across her forehead. But he could still see the deep emotions within them. He could read her like a book. Trust glowed from their depths like a lantern. She trusted his judgment. Would follow him anywhere. Even if she knew he was wrong. With a sigh and another nod, he took her smaller hand in his own, and they walked toward the pavement.

After the Storms, winds had blown dried dirt and sand across the land. The dessert landscape they’d been walking on for days, once was a highway. The road here was still covered by the packed red earth they’d been seeing. But once they entered the winding streets of outer suburbia, the dirt lessened, until it was a faint dusting that crunched beneath their feet.

On either side of the road, tall houses with windows, dark and boarded up, towered over them. Not a single soul dared stick their head out of doors. That or they were all dead. Eira clutched her brother’s hand tighter as her eyes scanned the houses, the windows, the dusty front lawns and the golden brown grass that stood like a monument from the Old World. She felt like they were being watched. She felt like the dark windows were peering down at them, promising that if they stayed within their walls the pair would meet a fate similar to the previous owners. Death.

“Banit…”

“I know… I feel it too.” He released her hand and she fell into step behind him. Her finger hooked through his belt loop. He was a protective shield before her. More than ready, and more than willing to face anything they came across to ensure her safety. He was her hero. Her protector. Without him, there’d be no chance of her survival. And if she died, all hope would be lost. She had to make it to the others. She had to make it to the East Coast.

Night had fallen quickly, basking the houses in deeper darkness, in thicker shadows. It was nearly impossible to see an enemy in the dark. They had to find a house. They had to decide on one, and stay there. Maybe it would even have food. If it had been spared from the looting. He doubted it, but it was still a pleasant thought.

The pair walked the winding roads, keeping track of which houses they passed, and stopped at a cul-de-sac. There were bodies lying in the road. New bodies. Dust had yet to blow in from the highways, and through the streets to cover them. You could always tell where a body lay beneath the ground. It was a mound, a hill on an otherwise flat surface. They’d past many of them on their walk.

“Banit…” Eira voice was hardly more than a whisper. She pressed a hand against his lower back. It shook against his skin. He could feel it even through his clothes. She was scared. “Come on Banit… let’s go. Please. We’ll move on.” Eira was insistent. She wasn’t usually this way, and it alarmed him. He wanted to turn around, hug her and promise her that it was going to be okay. Then whisk her away to somewhere safe where there would be enough food for both of them. Where there’d be a safe place to sleep and people to talk to and help them. But he couldn’t. If there were dead bodies, it meant that something had to kill them. And based on the way that their bodies were intact and looked to be killed by brute strength alone and a knife, that something was actually a someone.

People didn’t kill others unless they had something to protect. And that was usually food, or safety. If they were defending family, that meant they had something that had kept that family alive to this point. Which meant food and safety. In the end, that was all he could think about. That a house somewhere on this cul-de-sac, had food, safety, and a person willing and strong enough to kill. Banit could kill, he had done so before and wasn’t afraid to do so again. Not if that meant protecting his sister.

“Come on… there’s food in one of these houses, and I plan on feeding you tonight.” Eira had always been underweight, weak and fragile. Being on the road with not much, if anything to eat, had caused her to lose more weight than she could afford to lose. He was beginning to see her starvation in her face. In the sharp planes of her cheeks and the smooth edges of her collar bones. Every time he looked at her now, guilt would worm its way into his mind and heart, and he’d have to look away.

“I’ll be ok, Banit, really I will. Please, let’s just go…” But Banit had detached himself from her grasp, and was striding into the cul-de-sac. Panic welled in Eira’s chest as she was left alone. So without another option, she hurried after her brother, and hooked her finger back through his belt loop. He stopped and slowly looked at each house in turn. There were five of them. Eira though, wasn’t looking at the houses. Her eyes were caught on the dead bodies around them. Her eyes lingered on the body closest to her, the body of a woman with hard features. “Banit… please…”

“Hush!” Banit snapped, silencing Eira instantly. He decided on a house closer to the middle of the group. It looked cleaner than the others. Lived in. There was a path that led around to the side of the building, where the dust had been packed into solid ground. There were no footsteps, but that was all Banit needed to decide which house was the target.

The pair had no weapons or bags for supplies. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs and each other. At one point, they had been prepared for anything, with supplies and weapons. But after they’d been caught in a raid, they’d been without. Surviving on Banit’s instincts alone. And he didn’t have many in regards to survival. In the Old World, they hadn’t needed those kinds of instincts. So Eira knew the danger Banit faced trying to go up against someone who could kill, who had a knife and a home to protect. A home that possibly contained food and water. She was so thirsty…

Banit followed the path slowly. He wasn’t stupid. The path was obvious in the dirt, which meant that it could be secured and used as a trap. If there was only one way into the house, that one way would be rigged, guarded. He had to be careful. Eira followed him close behind, her finger still hooked through the belt loop on his jeans. Part of him wanted to leave in her front of the house and go around himself. To make sure it was safe. But another part of him didn’t want her to leave his side. She wasn’t safe without him. They both knew it.

The path led into the backyard, or rather what once was the backyard. Three of those blackened, dead trees stood out in the dried brown grass. One was closer to the house than the others. A garden of dead flowers crawled up the side of the blue house. It was such a light color, Eira could see every spec of dirt and grime that had met this house in opposition and lost. Many houses had succumbed to the weather, and the destruction of the Storms, they’d past many of those houses on their way, yet this one still stood tall. That didn’t mean, though, that she thought it any less dangerous.

There was a door in the backyard that was sure to be locked, and windows that were dark and still. But there was one window, she noticed, that was beside the black barked tree. One of the spindly branches reached out, clawing at the glass. She tugged on Banit’s belt loop with one hand, and pointed with the other. His attention went from her to the tree and then the window. Slowly, he headed for it. Eira right behind him.

Once again, he detached himself from his sister, so that he was unhindered. Silently, she watched him leap up and grab the lowest branch. His feet hung suspended in the air, swinging back and forth. She watched them swing for a moment as if in a trance. Panic swelled in her heart. Panic and remorse. Memories swarmed her head as her breath hitched in her throat. Images of slender, feminine feet dangling from a blackened branch, filled her mind. But the images faded before they could get any clearer as Banit pulled himself up and onto the branch. Eira chewed on her lower lip. She wouldn’t be able to do that. Not many females would. A male had to live in the house. A male that had to be as strong as Banit, at least. A strong male with a knife.

Banit looked down at the small figure of his sister, debating whether or not to help her up or inspect the house first. It was impossible to tell if they were being watched from a darkened window or one of the many shadows that surrounded the house. If he wasn’t careful, she’d be killed and there’d be no hope for a future. He couldn’t let that happen. They couldn’t let that happen. Which was why Eira was so careful, and he so determined to keep her safe. He watched her head turn slowly, inspecting the darkness with a perfection that only came with desperation and necessity.

In the end, he decided to investigate first. It was safer for her on the ground, than in a tree exposed as he was. If she saw something, she could always run away to the East Coast to find the others. He doubted she’d make it far, but at least she’d have a chance. And a chance was all they needed. All the world needed, at this point.

The window was unlocked, proving to be the only way in or out of the house. Banit peered into the shadows and looked around. It was dark, but he smelt something cooking. The house was occupied. When he looked around one last time to ensure that whoever lived there wasn’t upstairs at the moment, he leaned down to grab Eira’s hand. Without effort, he hauled her up onto the branch beside him, and then helped ease her in through the opened window before crawling in after her. The darkness of the house was cooler than the heat outside. Not by much, but it was enough. They both sighed as if thinking the same thing, as if one body. One mind.

Banit placed a figure to his lips, as he looked at her. With an encouraging smile, Eira nodded and followed behind him. The two had practice slipping through houses on silent footsteps. Had practice becoming the shadows that surrounded them. They clung close to the walls, where the floor was less likely to squeal and protest against their joined weight. When they neared the stairs, they stopped, unsure if they should continue. Stairs were hard to keep quite. They always seemed to be the traitors, loyal to those that lived in the house, and alerting them to trespassers. Hopefully whatever was cooking, popped and sizzled loud enough to mask the sounds of their decent.

Each step screamed in protest at their presence. Each step seemed to take longer and longer to descend, as they waited for the owner to come around from the kitchen and spot them. They never did, and the twins made it to the bottom without being heard. Banit’s arm stretched out, pressing against Eira’s midriff as he held her back behind him. She didn’t protest. She didn’t want to go first anyway. The smell of something cooking was stronger now, and her stomach growled in response. When was the last time she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember.

Banit went first, stepping onto the floor and peering around the corner. First to the right, then to the left. He turned his head back toward her, and frowned. No one. So where were they? Quietly, Banit inched around the right hand corner. Eira inched out after him. Following the scent of food, was agonizing. Especially when they had to go so slow to ensure that they weren’t heard and no one was in the rooms around them. A wave of nostalgia washed over Eira. It reminded her of their home, far, far away. She missed it. Eira’s hand slipped into her brother’s and squeezed. He didn’t seem to notice, but she knew he did. She could tell by the tense line of his shoulders that he was feeling what she was, and choosing to ignore it. Tears stung her eyes. But she made not a sound. As she slipped her hand from his, she hooked her finger back through his belt loop. She didn’t want to make this harder for him. He had to think with a clear head, to take care of them, and being sentimental wasn’t going to help.

Photographs and paintings lined the walls. Dust coated everything that hadn’t been touched or used. Along the mantelpiece, pictures were left undisturbed in the dust. A mirror by the front door was covered in a thick layer disuse. Eira couldn’t even see her own reflection through it. Just like everything else, it too had been neglected. Probably for a long time, probably since the Storms. Eira frowned, the person who lived here now, hadn’t lived here in the Old World. Otherwise, pictures would be touched, moved, looked at with loving eyes. But she saw none of that. No lonely fingers trailing across the surface of wood dressers and tables. No fingerprints in the dust to hold old mementos of better days. Like the turtle statue that had clearly been made by a young child, now coated with dust. Eira wondered if whoever lived here now, had killed the family, or if something else had. But suppose that person had killed them, what chance did Banit have in a fight against them?

The kitchen was painted yellow, with little decorative mugs hanging from pegs above the sink. Floral curtains framed the black window in bright color. A bay window facing the darkness of the backyard had a table pushed up against it. Two chairs sat across from the bench the window made, and two more chairs headed the table on either end. Something sizzled in a pan on the stove. It smelt heavy and greasy and good. Banit’s stomach rumbled along with Eira’s. The room was only lit by the flame beneath the pan. But it was enough for them to see by. Their bodies had adjusted to seeing in the dark.

“Banit… where’d he go?” Eira whispered.

Banit looked down at her, and shrugged. “I don’t know… but it doesn’t matter. We came here to eat. So we’ll eat. Then we’ll spend the night upstairs in a room that’s not been used too much. We’ll stay there for the night.” Eira didn’t like that idea, but she stayed silent. Banit had kept them alive this long. She trusted his judgment. Still, the house was clearly lived in. Not much would suggest it was, but there was meat on the stove, cooking. A searing carcass of a small animal was in the pan. And it wasn’t burned enough to have been neglected. Someone would be coming back. It was just a matter of time.

Eira sat down nervously at the table, looking through all the shadows. Now that the sun had set, the blue flame beneath the pan was the only light they had. It cast an eerie glow throughout the room. Harsh shadows swept across Banit’s face, making him look like a completely different person. His eyes glowed with the blue light, like some sort of demon. He brought the pan to the table, not bothering with plates or silverware. Eira didn’t care, she was hungry.

Banit looked around the room once more before he turned his attention back to the small corpse at the bottom of the pan. He didn’t know how much time they had before that guy got back, but at the moment all he cared about was filling Eira’s belly, and then getting her back upstairs to rest. Perhaps tonight, she’d sleep soundly. He hoped so. He didn’t know how many more nights he could take of her screaming, or crying, or hurting herself in her sleep. He didn’t know how many more nights she could take.

The meat was hot and burned their fingers and mouths as they tore into the carcass. It was a small creature, whatever it was, and didn’t have much meat on the bones. But they weren’t picky. Greedily, desperately, the two cleaned each bone of any meat, fat, and charred skin it possessed. Banit stopped early, leaving more of the meat for his sister, though he needed more to keep his body going than she did. “Stay here…” He said, leaving her to finish off the food as he searched the house for anything else to eat. The few mouthfuls he’d been able to eat, weren’t enough. It could never be enough to fuel his body. It was barely enough to keep his much smaller sister going.

There was a pantry right off the kitchen, and it was stocked with cans of food and bottles of water. No wonder fresh bodies had been outside in the streets. Banit grabbed a few cans from the shelves and some bottles from the floor, then went back to his sister. The flame on the stove had gone out. It shouldn’t have gone out. Slowly, he searched the darkness for the darker outline of his sister sitting at the kitchen table. She wasn’t there.

He placed the cans on the table, and then stepped deeper into the darkness of the kitchen, desperately trying to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to startle her if she’d just wandered off. “Eira…”What if that man had come back? What if instead of finding his dinner, he’d found Eira instead? She was an attractive girl, and she was alone. Even if she hadn’t been attractive, there weren’t many people left, let alone females. What were the odds of another woman being seen by this man since the one he’d killed out in the street? Banit’s mind reeled with the possibilities of death that were likely outcomes for his fragile sister. All of them made him frantic. “Eira… I need you to answer me.” Banit listened, but heard nothing.

His search stopped when he saw a darker shape against the darkness of the kitchen. It was a shadow too heavy to be made from the dim moonlight outside, which barely filtered in through the windows. He took a step closer. And so did the shadow. His eyes fell on his sister’s bright eyes first, glowing in the dark. Eyes full of fear. Eira’s back was clutched tightly against the big chest of a young man. A knife at her throat. “Think you’re gonna steal from me, ay?” A gruff voice spoke from the darkness. Banit still couldn’t see who it was. “Think you’re gonna eat my food, and get away with it? You see them bodies outside? You’ll be one of them soon enough.” The voice was clearly male.

Banit didn’t know what to do. He raised his hands up in appeasement, stepping closer. “Hey now, why don’t you let the girl go… okay?” Eira gasped as the blade was pressed against her throat. A trail of bright red broke the whiteness of her skin. Banit watched the crimson stream slide down her neck. Watched as it slowly dried against her flesh. It was a warning not to get any closer. Banit had no intention of going against that warning.

“Why should I? She’s the one that was eatin’ our food.” The figure stepped closer, out of the shadows. The man that held Eira wasn’t as tall as Banit, but looked older. Perhaps in his mid-twenties. His hair was greasy and matted to his skull. He looked too thin. Every bone and outline in his face, was visible beneath the tightness of his skin. Jagged, rotting teeth lined his blackening gums. Banit was sure he couldn’t be older than twenty-five, yet his conditioned made him look like he was some sort of old man. The man was a Scavenger. Armed and ready to kill.

“She was just hungry… that’s all. I was the one that broke in. I was the one that gave it to her. Just let her go.” Banit was desperate. He wasn’t afraid of the knife killing him. He was afraid of the knife killing her. He was expendable. She was not.

All he had to do was get her away from the stranger, and then Banit could attack. If only he’d let her go. “Yea and I’m not hungry? I was the one who caught the dammed thing. You know how rare meat is these days?” Banit did know.

“Look, there’s plenty of food in the pantry, it’s not like we cleaned you out or anything. Just let her go. She’s not going to hurt you.” But I will… Banit though.

“Now now, I caught that little beastie because we wanted meat. We still want meat. And this here girlie’s got alotta meat on ‘er bones. I think I’ll just keep ‘er and kill you. How’s that sound?” Eira whimpered in response, clinging to the man’s arm as she struggled to stay upright. A growing sense of shame was washing over Banit. Eira had said that this place wasn’t right. She’d warned him, and he’d ignored her. Now she had a knife to her throat.

Banit stepped a fraction of a fraction closer. The man tsked. “You don’t wanna be doin’ that. I’ll kill ‘er if you come any closer.” The stranger spoke with an accent Banit couldn’t identify, but it was thick and it was slurred. He could smell the stench of alcohol even over the salty scent of blood and sweat. He felt bad for Eira who was trapped against the man, his thin arms rippling with the muscle that only developed with the need for survival.

“Banit…” Eira whispered. Her voice a faint plea in the dark. She looked on the verge of tears and it broke his heart. He had to do something. Anything to get the man to let her gone. He took another step forward, and Eira shook her head. “… He said our food…” Eira’s warning sunk in too late.

Something heavy and hard, hit Banit in the back of the head. The sound of a chair breaking filled the room. Eira screamed. Another man came out of the darkness and into the faint moonlight. Banit was kneeling on the ground, struggling to pull air into his lungs. Before he could regain his bearings completely, the new much bigger male, was on him.

“Banit!” Eira cried. He could hear her struggling in the distance, but he couldn’t be certain. Not with fists slamming into his head. His ears rang. Through the blood that was dripping into his eyes, he could make out the shape of a burly man. The scavenger’s father.

The pain of being hit, slowly eased into Banit’s full awareness, and he was able to collect his thoughts and form them into a plan. While this man was heavier than Banit, and bigger, Banit was younger by far. Without a single second of hesitation, Banit looped his leg around the man’s waist, and twisted their bodies until he had the bigger man pinned. With the strength adolescence gifted young men, Banit was able to repay the man, blow for blow.

Eira watched as her brother had taken two fists to his face and a knee to his stomach. Her heart had dropped to her feet. But her brother didn’t stay down for long. She was shamed of the giddy cheer that filled her heart when Banit pinned the old Scavenger down, and began beating his head into the tiled floor. Blood was everywhere, filling the air with a metallic scent that didn’t mix well with the smell of grease that came from the meat she’d eaten.

She tried to pull away from the skeleton that stood behind her, holding her tight against his rancid clothing. But it was no use. Though he was thinner than her, with his bones sticking out of his skin, he still had strength in his limbs that she couldn’t contend with. At least not physically. Defeated, her eyes went back to Banit. He’d taken to smashing the man’s head into the ground. Blood glittered darkly against the white tiled floor. Banit’s muscles rippled with the strain and release of each punch. Eira shivered as water welled in her eyes. How could she let this happen?

“Papa?” The man called from behind her. “Hey papa…” the Skeleton cursed. Eira flinched at the way his voice broke with emotion. Even the scavengers felt sorrow. Felt the pain of lose. “Hey you, ya’ stop that right now or I’ll kill ‘er!” He screamed and pressed the knife deeper into her throat. She gasped. Banit didn’t respond. He just kept slamming the old scavenger’s head into the floor.

A string of slurred curses escaped the Skeleton’s dry lips and he forced her closer, the knife tightening against her throat. “Papa!” His father didn’t answer. Eira doubted he’d ever be able to again.

Rage, shook the body behind her. Vengeance spurred strength into the body that held her. Hate gave the body the lust for blood. Eira was tossed aside, her head hitting the hard cabinet, and then the floor. Drops of blood stained the white tile beneath her. In the crimson mirror, she saw her face, but didn’t recognize it. There was a hardness to her eyes that hadn’t been there before. It’s alright to hurt him. He hurt those people outside. He’s going to hurt Banit if you don’t hurt him first… Eira thought, convincing herself that it was okay. That it had to be done. And it did have to be done. For Banit’s sake. For her sake. For the sake of the world.

The Skeleton threw itself at Banit, slashing open his flesh. But Banit was fast, experienced, and avoided a fatal blow. Still, blood was pouring from his wound. She couldn’t look away. But she had to, because she had to help Banit. She tuned out the fighting and the blood. Closing her eyes, hot tears cut warm trails against her cold skin. She felt so cold. White puffs of vapor escaped her lips as the temperature in the room plummeted. It usually got colder at night, but not like this. This was something else.

Eira listened, not to the sound of the grunts coming from across the room, but to the soft crackling sound of frost against a window pane. She listened to the soft howling of ice growing and spreading. No one else seemed to hear it. But she did. She always did. The sounds shifted in her ears. Bone clattered against bone as someone shivered. Was it her? She was cold. She was so cold. Frost bit at her exposed fingers and neck. Blood froze against her flesh. It froze against the floor. Intricate white designs stretched out from that spot of blood on the floor, until it could barely be seen, hidden in the frosty blue and white of ice.

Screams filled the room. Strangled sounds of pain and agony. Was it her brother screaming? No. This was a different sound. This was the sound of the Scavenger. Dying. She whimpered. His screams echoed in her mind. But she listened harder. She had to. She listened for the sound of his heart. It was beating rapidly as the howl of the ice spread. She focused on that steady, throbbing pulse. She pictured the ice swelling and surging until it froze the blood that would pump to the organ. “Papa! It’s cold… Papa…” The Scavenger begged. He pleaded. She could hear his teeth chattering. She could hear him sobbing. There was another surge of cold, stronger now. It was no longer a soft howl. She was sure everyone could hear the whirlwind now.

The man’s screams grew louder.

And then stopped.

Something hit the ground with a thud, and rolled. Eira flinched. The cold wrapped around her like a safety shield. Her tears, no longer hot, froze against her cheeks. Shudders consumed her body as a new wave of remorse overwhelmed her. He was dead.

Eira couldn’t open her eyes. She couldn’t look. She didn’t want to see what had happened. What was left behind. Suddenly, arms surrounded her and she screamed. Had he not died? Was he alive? She lashed out, her hands stretching out and coming into contact with warm flesh. She heard the sharp intake of breath. It was the sound of barely concealed pain. Then she heard a voice. “Eira…” A familiar voice.

She opened her eyes and found her own looking back at her. Banit. He was okay. He was alive. He pulled her close, surrounding her with his warm arms. But he was shivering too. She looked at where her hands lay pressed against his arm. Bruise like marks of purple and blue, were visible. Bruise like marks in the shape of her fingers. They were ugly and ringed in red. Frost bite. Guilt swelled in her chest. She’d caused him pain. She’d made him hurt. She’d killed the Skeleton.

Unable to look at the damage she’d done to her brother, she decided to look around the kitchen instead. The moonlight that had barely lit the room was reflected and reflected again, along the icy surface of the floor. It looked like a mirror. Ice crystals stretched from the drop of blood beside her, out across the yellow walls of the kitchen. The tiny decorative mugs that hug from the pegs, were broken from the sudden change of hot to cold. In their place were icicles. Clouds of white escaped her lips as she breathed. Her eyes fell to the body on the ground.

The Skeleton lay still on the ground. His eyes were open and misted with frost. Awe and pain permanently etched on his face. Eira couldn’t breathe. His skin was blue and purple, bitten through with cold. White flakes of ice were woven into his matted hair. Frost dusted his eye lashes. His lips were blue and still opened in a silent scream as he froze to death. Another body lay on the ground farther away. A still body with a glass pool of blood beneath it. The blood was so bright against the icy blue of the frost that covered the body. At least now she couldn’t see what Banit had done to the man. To his face and his body.

Eira cried when she saw the Skeleton’s lifeless hand, frozen as it reached out for his father. The father he had known was dead. The father that he wanted to hold anyway, as he himself died. “It’s okay… Eira, hush it’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay. Not really.

She wanted to believe him, she did. But it was impossible. Not after what she’d done. Not after what she’d seen. “We have to find them, Banit. We have to find them…”

“We will… we will. Don’t worry Eira, we’ll find them. I swear it.”

“We have to find them, before they find us. They’ll be coming, Banit, they’ll be coming and they’ll find us.”

Banit went still at her words. Images swarmed his mind like angry bees. Images of the destruction that had torn them from their home. Images of the destruction that was to come. Images that wouldn’t change if they didn’t make it to the East Coast.