Young Writers Society

Cold snow blanketed the small and wintery town of Frostville, a shabby and dilapidated village pocketed within the southern pine forests of Alesiah. Between the heavy winds and seemingly never-ending frost fall lived a small boy and his older sister, June. Unbeknownst to either of the orphans, one of their lives were about to change forever. The other one was about to die.

“Come on, August,” June pulled her little brother out of the cramped makeshift hut, his freezing hand trembling at her gentle touch. “We haven’t eaten in days. Aren’t you in the mood for a piece of bread that isn't stale?”

August opened his eyes and his blurry vision came to, his older sister coming before his eyes. June's skin was pale, and she was both short and gaunt, extremely bony due to malnourishment. Yet her courageous blue eyes shined marvelously, and when she smiled, an aura of toughness emerged that grabbed the attention of both the men and women of Frostville.

But the kind of attention her aura drew was not the kind of attention anybody would possibly want.

The small and dirty boy staggered to his feet with the aid of his sister, the thick snow sliding off his clothes and unkempt hair. An uncomfortable pain settled into his chest and stomach.

“What will it be today. Begging or stealing?” June asked.

August pouted, the chest pain heavy and bitter. “Well. Begging is easier,” he said. “But stealing is more exciting.”

“Yeah, I know. And begging just takes longer,” June returned. “But you know what, at this point, we’ve already begged from half the town by now. But the other half knows we steal things. They're more careful around us. I mean, they know who we are. You know what I'm trying to say? August.”

August clutched his midsection in pain. The lack of food in his belly was causing his stomach to shoot acid straight up to his esophagus – he was so hungry that he was hurting. He didn’t want to take longer. He wanted to eat.

“There’s one part of town we haven’t hit yet,” August said.

June’s mouth widened. Her eyes glowed in shock. She had no idea her little brother was so bold. “You don’t mean. No way. No way, August. Not the warehouse.”

August grinned through the pain. “Yeah. The warehouse.”

All the way on the other side of Frostville, shrouded in mystery and darkness was what the villagers all called the warehouse. It was a strange yet imposing wooden shack sitting cumbersomely near the wintery forests, heavily protected by a sea of armed guards at all times.

“You know the stories around the town,” June reminded her brother. “All the guards that protect the place year round, with their big guns. And they aren’t the nice kind of guards. They’re supposed to blast anybody’s head off who gets too close to the building.”

“I know the stories. But think of all the riches that must be inside there,” August rebutted. “If they have all those people guarding it? Come on, June. We could eat for the rest of our lives. Real food. We could have a house for ourselves. And nobody would bother us. Nobody would do those things to you that they always do.”

June gulped and gravity closed her eyes. She hated when August brought those things up. But she was hungry. So hungry that her legs were starting to feel wobbly underneath her. The thought of sultry and scrumptious meat, real meat, real ham and baked potatoes and clean, ice cold water down her throat. As much as she wanted. No more being cold. A real house, warmed by a fire. She could stand by it as much as she wanted. Everything she could've wanted, her brother was dangling the prospect right in front of her eyes.

And so she pulled her eyes open. “Okay,” she said in a wavering voice. “We’ll steal from the warehouse.”

It was the six words she’d come to regret for the rest of her life.

“But how would we even do that?” June further pouted, shaking the snow out of her long brown hair. “The warehouse is supposed to be guarded by marauders. And from the stories, they don’t take prisoners.”

August nodded. “Exactly. The only people who are allowed there are the guards.”

“You’re not saying we should try and pretend to be guards to get close to the warehouse,” June said. “We’re kids, August. They’ll never believe that.”

“They wouldn’t believe us pretending to be guards,” August admitted. “But what if someone else does the pretending? Just follow me.”

The orphan siblings staggered across the town through the cold snow, enduring stares and jeers of villagers and guards.

You little brats aren’t getting a penny from me today. The wind hastened its wrath, ravaging their brittle bones.

Gutter thieves. That’s all you two are. Nothing but trouble. Leave this town and leave us be.

You sure are adorable, little June. Word around town is you also like sucking on meat hoses.

The orphans made their way to the small home of Rodney Bunkins, an old friend of their father. August knew he was a coward.

“You bratty little orphans?” the bald, gruff man scoffed as he opened his door to the sight of the two unkempt youngsters. “What are you two doing here?”

August pulled a small knife from his side and raised it to Rodney’s chest. “Let us in or I’ll slice you right up,” he boasted.

Rodney flinched. “Fine, fine,” the middle-aged man lamented. “Gods. Okay. Just put that thing down. No need to hurt me. See?”

The three headed inside the cozy house warmed by a paramount fire, smelling delightfully of fresh bread and cheese. “Get a sack out and fill it up with some food for us,” June demanded, a serious look in her confident eyes. “I mean it. Or we’ll cut your throat before you can even tell the guards.”

Rodney nodded in agreement. A sense of empowerment overcame June. When it came to eating, two options always crossed her mind – begging or stealing. In all her fifteen years she never realized that there was always a third option. Coercing.

“Yes, yes,” he said, shuffling to the countertop and opening a wool sack, beginning to deposit pieces of fruit and cheese from it. “Is that all you want?”

August shook his head. “We also need your help,” he said, accepting the heavy sack of foodstuff from Rodney. “The warehouse. North side of the town. We’re going to break in and steal from it.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Rodney gasped. “That building is swarming with marauders all over the place. They’ll blow your brains out as soon as you get close.”

“That’s where you’ll come in,” June explained. “You’re going to disguise yourself as an overnight guard. You’ll sneak us in your luggage.”

“Everyone protecting the place overnight has to bring luggage,” August elaborated. “Things to sleep with. Food to eat. Stuff like that.”

“And what in the name of the gods makes you think I’m going to help you?” Rodney said. “What made you even think—”

June cracked a smile. “We’ll kill you if you don’t,” she said.

The words made her heart thunder with excitement. How could she never have realized how much people feared death? If she threatened people with the idea of dying, they’d give her whatever she wanted. It was magical. It sent a wondrous feeling up her spine.

“We’ve killed people before,” August gulped. It was a lie, but he needed to drive home the fear to get Rodney to help them. “We steal things. People tell the guards on us every once and a while. Those people end up going on vacations. If you know what we mean.”

“Okay, okay.” Sweating and panting heavily, Rodney closed his eyes and exhaled. “Gods. Alright. I’ll help you steal from the warehouse. Just don’t kill me.”

“Great,” August said. “Just one more thing we need from you – a bow and arrow.”

That afternoon, back in their dark and cramped alley, August filled his belly with delicious cheese and bread. June nibbled, but felt awfully queasy to chow down as much.

“So, we’re really going to do it,” she pouted to her brother. “We’re going to break into the warehouse. With all those guards. Ready to blow our heads off.”

August yawned. “You worry too much.”

“I don’t think we should go through with it,” June quickly responded. “We’ve got Rodney scared of us. We can just get all the food we want from him.”

“Don’t be a baby,” August said, standing to his feet, refreshed with a full stomach. He clutched the wooden bow in his hands and smiled. “Everything is gonna be okay. And I’ve got some scouting work to do to make sure of that.”

“Come on, August. It’s dangerous. We can’t—”

“Don’t follow me,” August said. “Or else.”

Ignoring his big sister’s pleas like little brothers so often do, he stormed out of the alley and began a journey towards the north side of Frostville. He hiked into the forests, where with the arrow over his shoulder and a quiver full of sharp arrows latched onto his back, he scrappily climbed a tall tree.

August gazed into the distance, witnessing from a great height the sight he or his sister never thought they’d see. A mountainous hut carved completely of wood from the forests, the roof covered in white snow. Half a dozen men dressed in identical midnight-colored armor and wielding incredible guns, massive weapons, stood gazing at the distance. Guarding the mysterious warehouse with all their attention. Young men, all of them excluding one, who was gray-haired and wrinkled as they get.

Perhaps an adult would come to their senses, realizing that if they were somehow spotted in that tree, their life was over. But he was a twelve-year-old boy. Common sense didn’t come into play yet.

He grasped an arrow from the quiver. His hand was not shaking, it was steady, and he was confident as he wrapped his fingers around the thin string, pushing the nock against the firm, thick material.

His right eye locked onto the elderly guard. Like a hunter targets their prey.

June should have stopped him.

The arrow went flying towards the elderly guard at the speed of sound.

The elderly guard barely had time to grunt in pain as the arrow pierced his neck. Blood splattered to the skies, and the guard fell as the snow around him became coated a crimson red with his blood. Dead.

August jumped from the tree, landing in the snow. There he laid, watching as the other guards worriedly crowded around their fallen coworker. Breathed a sigh of relief. The hard part was now over. All he needed to do now was wait to see what they did with the body, so he could uncover it and steal the armor for Rodney to disguise himself with.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” June whispered into his ear. “Did you just murder somebody?”

August jumped, taken utterly off guard at his sister’s arrival into the forest. “How else are we supposed to get the uniforms,” he whispered. “Our plan will be ruined if we leave now!”

“That arrow came from the forest,” one of the guards shouted. “Go! Find whoever did this!”

“Did you hear that?” June said. “Run!”

The teenage orphan sprinted off through the forest, and reluctantly, August followed after her. They hitched it all the way back to their cold and cramped alley, and by that time, the sun vanished to engulf the entirety of Frostville in darkness.

“What the hell is your problem?” August said. “I told you not to follow me into the forest. And you did it anyway. You did it anyway, June.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” June responded. “You were going to get your arse killed had I not gone towards the warehouse. Speaking of kill, did you really murder an old man?”

“I hate you,” August sneered. “You ruined everything. We could’ve had it all. We could’ve lived in a warm house, and eaten food every day but you ruined it. You’re the worst.”

June shook her head. Her eyes were watery – not because of what her little brother said to him, they’d argued and made up before – but she'd never imagine he'd be a murderer. Not in a thousand days.

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she said. “I’m going to go sleep somewhere else tonight. You’re scaring me. You really are.”

She started out of the alley. “Wait,” August cried out. “June, come on. June!”

“Don’t follow me,” she said, disappearing into the darkness of the wintery night. “Or else.”

August felt guilty, but not overly so – he wrongly assumed it was just another argument. Like the ones they and every other sibling in the world had a dozen times before. Ending a life takes a mountain of energy, so as soon as he laid his body in the cramped, makeshift hut he’d called his home for the past seven years, and shut his eyes, he drifted straight off to sleep.

Only to wake up hours later to the stench of blood in the air.

He jumped to his feet. Light speckled in. Towards the edge of the alleyway were four men dressed in midnight-colored leather, wielding bright torches and monstrous guns. In front of the four men was a tall and suave fellow. He wore a nice coat and a fancy-shmancy hat, had long, luscious hair down to his shoulders, and a set of dangerous brown eyes. He was buff, and evidently muscular despite his skin being clothed by black gloves and long boots.

His left hand was wrapped around June’s neck. Her mouth was bound with gray tape.

“Looks like you made quite a mess for us,” the suave man said in a strange accent. “Rogan was a good man – and you killed him. Just like that.”

August gulped. “I didn’t do anything. I swear to the gods—”

“Be quiet,” the suave man said. “We know everything you did, lad. From your plan to disguise poor Rodney as a guard, to your arrow that killed Rogan. Luggage, huh?”

“…”

August couldn’t bear to look at his sister as she kicked and pulled, unable to break the suave man’s grasp. The fear in her eyes was overbearing. The thought that he was about to lose her, not just his sister, but his only friend in the entire world – he couldn’t focus on it. His mind wasn’t ready for the grief.

“My name is Wolf,” the suave man declared. “What I’m about to teach you is that every action has a consequence. Rodney is gone. His death was extremely painful, and its all your fault. And now this is going to hurt the both of you, won't it now?”

August’s mouth widened as he lunged towards his sister, only to be tackled by two of the armed brutes. They held him down, and all he could do was watch in tears as Wolf brandished a sharp dagger.

He shut his eyes. All he could hear was the blade ripping into his sister’s skin, the awful thud as her body hit the ground, and all he could do was cry. Cry and regret what he’d done, wish it was all a dream and he could just wake up, wake up from this awful nightmare, have his sister at his side again and tell her how much he appreciated having her around.

“That felt good. Now lad, come with me,” Wolf said. “I’m adopting you. Your life as a orphan is over. Son.”