I HATE IT, but I realize why I haven’t been able to bring myself to kill the Guardians. They’re my family. I want to backtrack. I can’t think like that, but I know it’s true. The two armies have gone back to fighting, but they’re still eyeing me strangely. I can’t blame them. I can see the sun setting on the horizon. I can see Black slowly get back up. He stares at me as if I’m about to finish him. I should, but I can’t bear it.

“Go home, Black. Get better, and then we’ll see about that kill,” I grumble, even though I know there isn’t a chance he can get through the next ten minutes. He nods at me between pained, muffled screams.

The thought that Black is going to die drives me insane. I don’t want him to die. I want to return to the Western Forests and wish that I had never come. I know it’s my fault. I distracted him. I can’t take it anymore. I storm off, letting the Guardians take him away on a stretcher.

I push people out of my way as I head back to camp, ducking from flying weapons and avoiding one-on-one combat. I don’t know what to do. I run to the only place I know I can be alone.

I run until I feel like I’m going to collapse. I know my face is red, but I refuse to slow until I approach the stream. I stop, unable to move. How isn’t everything dead, like I feel inside? How isn’t the river dried up and the willow and grass dead?

Each time I come here, I’m reminded that no matter how awful and traumatizing some places can be, there still are people who might live the best moment of their lives; holding their newborn, a first kiss, or simply reading their favourite book, while I’m living my nightmare.

Dropping on the grass, I wait for my breath to catch up. I gasp for air. Gradually, my lungs replenish oxygen and I sit up. I peel off my boots. I put my elbows on my knees, calves in the water. Chin in my hand, I swallow my tears. I can’t let myself cry. I already hate myself for crying last night, and even more for letting Zak see it.

Darsal never cries. Darsal never cries. I tell myself. You’re not a baby. You don’t care about the Guardians. They broke you once. Don’t let them take you in again.

The aged willow tree droops over me. A dragonfly settles on my knee. I move my elbow and transfer the dragonfly to my finger. Its bright colours shimmer rainbow in the sunlight. It drifts off.

I gaze at the smooth rocks at the bottom of the river. It isn’t much deeper than a few feet; the water emitting mini rainbows on the riverbed. My focus shifts to its surface. I snatch a glimpse of my reflection. Two green eyes stare back at me. I don’t seem traumatized. What am I doing in a bloodthirsty and murderous army?

I feel a crisp blade pressed at the back of my throat. Pain shoots through my limbs.

“Listen Darry. Don’t deny it; I know it's the same school girl I nearly killed,” comes the voice behind me.

Oh no. I recognize that voice. I turn and come face to face with someone very familiar.

“Sam, why are you here?” I mutter, “And for the last time, it’s Darsal.”

Seeing the second familiar face today just doesn’t seem to sit well with me. Why now? I have avoided it until now. I stare at the blond nineteen-year-old boy in front of me. He doesn’t move the knife.

“Go ahead. Kill me. I’m nothing but a traitor.” I’m not thinking clearly, and the worst part is that I know it.

“I just want to reason with you. We’re the good guys, you know. Your mom almost married Dad. Imagine what a nightmare that would be. Having you as a step-sister. I mean, we’re just so great even she couldn’t help it.”

I mutter curses under my breath. I’ve had enough with the Guardians’ reasoning because I am seeing their point. I don’t like it.

“Then why do you have a six-inch knife at my throat?” I ask, turning back.

I feel the cold metal leave my throat. Sam sits on the stream's edge.

“So how’s it going, sis?” he says, leaning back.

“You’re mocking me.” I pull my knife, permitting it to gleam in the sunlight. “You know very well I’d…” my voice trails off to silence.

“Since it doesn't seem like you’re going to ask, my Pa is doing well.”

“If he’s so great, why doesn't he end this war?” I grumble.

“How’s Carrie?” I add after a long pause.

Carrie is the one thing that has gotten me through what I’ve been through. I want Sam to leave me alone, but I can’t help it.

I know if I’m seen speaking to a Guardian without a knife at their throat, I’m dead, literally, but I need to know. General Sanderson will have me hanged for…

“Fraternizing with the enemy, are you, Darsal?” comes a familiar voice.

This is a nightmare. I shut my eyes, refusing to believe this.

“Zak, you’re an idiot for following me,” I mutter between my teeth. No, no, no!

“I think you’re an idiot for making such a scene on the battlefield today. Along with finally telling me the name of your sister,” pause, “I’m sorry Darsal, but once General Sanderson has his hands on her — well, you know how it goes. He’s going to destroy you from the inside out.”

I’m appalled at how genuinely apologetic he seems, but I quit caring once I process what he said.

I whirl around towards Zak. No, not Carrie. Please, not Carrie. Please! It takes all my willpower not to drop to my knees, pleading for mercy. Please, Zak!

“No, Zak. I know you better than that. You cannot take Carrie. Don’t!”

I can’t help it. Tears sting my eyes. One spills over and traces my cheek. I don’t wipe it away. I take my throw knife from its thigh sheath.

“You do and you’ll be very sorry.”

I know how to throw a knife faster than someone can dodge. Zak knows that too. But he also knows my weak spot.

“Hey buddy, don’t worry. Just old friends. She hates my guts now. You can’t take it out on little Carrie. You take her, and you're going to have to go through every single Guardian. They are going to hunt you down like a dog,” Sam says.

I can hear Zak step forward. I can feel his blade at my throat. My face contorts itself into a grimace under that pain. I can sense a drop of blood leisurely running down my neck.

“It’s a real shame, Darsal. I don’t want to kill you, but what choice do I have?”

“You know, you could just not turn me in. It’s always a good option.”

I attempt not to pay attention to the blood making its way through my collar. I have pain breathing.

I push my anxiety away. He won’t tell General Sanderson. I know him better than to believe he will do such. Right?

Jeez, people sure love sticking their knives against my neck. The back of my mind mutters. I’m living my nightmares.

“Not so easy, Darsal. The thing is, my Oh-So-Mighty-Dad has entrusted me with documenting your every movement. You can fight just as well as any Scriptio, but you don’t resemble one. You’ve got light hair and eyes and your skin is just as dark as any Guardian.”

I don’t know how to respond to that. I suppose I believed I could pass after spending my days hidden from the sun for six months. I should have thought about cutting my hair, but right now it’s long and straight, like many Guardian women. Looking away from the gurgling water, I see both Sam and Zak have a hand on a weapon.

I become edgy and try to move away from Zak’s knife, but he doesn't let me. Only one question remains in my mind: why? Zak was nice enough...right?

“Okay, listen. We can resolve this. You — you can turn me in,” I hate what I’m saying, but I have to, “But you don’t tell General about Carrie.”

Zak only presses his knife harder against my neck. I clench my jaw, as not to scream. Pain fires within my limbs like electricity.

“Beat it, Blond Boy. I don’t want to see your face ever again,” Zak hisses.

“Darsal, I’m sorry about what happened to your mother. I really am, and since I’m probably never going to see you again, I…” his voice trails off, “Carrie still hasn’t gotten over your run away.”

With that, Sam disappears into the woods. I’m left sitting like I was before, only now with a knife at my throat, someone I have thought of as a friend threatening not only my life but my sister’s too. But I know one thing:

I will do anything for Carrie to keep her life, even if that means losing my own.