The Last People // When Snow Falls in Neverland :: complete

Snow H i d e s

 ANA'S HEART BEAT TOO FAST FOR COMFORT. The man's deep voice echoed in her ears.

They're only two people; they couldn't do a whole army any harm.

"Raise your weapons," she commanded quietly, and the sound of guns being prepared played like music in the air. "Stand, men," was what she said next.

"Aim and shoot," was what she said last. Ana thought it would be over, and she thought that with two bullets, the woman and the man would be laying on the ground, bleeding and dead.

She thought wrong.

Troops from the opposite force sprung up a few feet behind where the man and woman stood, fresh snow cloaking their red and yellow clothes. Weapons were clear in their gloved hands and they aimed, not hesitating when they shot. Bullets pins the trees and bushes, and two or three people, too.

Ana's breath hitched in her throat and in that moment, the world stood still except for the deadly slow sounds of her breaths. Her vision blurred for a few milliseconds, coming back into focus sluggishly, worrying her.

"Sargent!" Nolan called as he dodged another bullet. "Sarg, are you there?" Ana backed into a tree, fear snaking its way into her veins and in her lungs and in her blood. She shuddered.

I can't do this, I messed up, I can't do this, I messed up, I can't --

"Ana! Sargent! Answer me or we'll lose more men!" Nolan shouted at her, and Ana could hear the words but she wasn't understanding them. She swore the only sign that she was alive was the soft thump of her heart beat; bump, thump, thump, bump, thump, thump...

"Ana, please! We need you! You're killing us out here! Please." Nolan's voice faded away as he watched another man fall, dead. She glanced up.

"Men." Her voice was not commanding. It didn't demand anything. No one was listening. It was just the same as the day she decided to take the role as a leader. Nothing was working.

"Men, listen!" Her voice still wasn't quite loud enough, but they looked at her with trust in their eyes. How could they trust her after she just abandoned them? "Shoot! Don't think of the opposing team. This is war and it's a war we can win. Remember: hand to hand combat is key. They're good with weapons but not with actual fighting."

They nodded at each other. A few men shot, but it was mostly just a distraction. Nolan kind of smiled, kind of frowned, but it made Ana feel more confident, for a reason that was unknown to her at the moment.

The men plunged forward, struggling to knock the weapons out of the Blades' hands. Ana raced forward along with them. She chose at random, and right away she felt a stab of pain in her side. She gasped, staring at the blood leaking through her clothing. She could feel her strength dissipating within the depths of her soul and her body and mind, and her vision was just as blurry as it was last time.

She forced herself to stay awake, shaking away the constant nagging of unconsciousness. She watched the man smile and laugh for just a minute, taking in his appearance: shaggy, unruly brown hair and crisp hot chocolate eyes. A beard tumbled down his chin, ending at his adam's apple.

After studying him, she threw a punch, and the sensation of bone on bone tingled in her fingers. His head jolted to the side, and in that split second she snatched the knife from him and jabbed into his stomach. Her eyes widened, watching the circle of red paint on his clothing grow bigger and bigger. She retched up whatever was left in her stomach from what she'd eaten that morning, which wasn't much, but it tasted awful.

The pale white snow was immediately dyed crimson, and the dying body made her own body feel rigid. She watched the man's eyes roll back into his head, and soon there was just an irrevocable silence in him, and in Ana, too, in a sense that she couldn't quite define yet.

"You get used to it, Sarg!" Nolan called to her as he kicked another soldier in the gut and robbed his gun from him, shooting the troop in the cheek. Ana felt sick and terribly guilty, but she told herself she would get used to it.

She would try to get used to it, anyway.

She spotted one of her own troops struggling to fight a man in red and yellow. She recognized the troop as Lucas, the one who had spoke to her the other day. She sprinted over to where Lucas lashed out and kicked at the man, but he was too built and wasn't phased by the action.

Ana hurried and stepped on the man's left foot, then latching her leg around his own and tripping him. He fell to the ground with a clash, the snow flying up around him in a violent storm. He gripped Ana's ankle with the strength of a monster. She collapsed, and the pain of her side wound kicked in. He rolled over, landing on top of her.

She scowled as he yanked out his knife. It hovered above the tip of Ana's nose, and in the moment when the knife was about to fall, blood began to pour from the man's torso. Ana recoiled, a grimace playing on her lips. She only stared as the body fell, a dagger dug into his spine and then sticking into the ground. She coughed up dry air, nothing being left for her to throw up. She felt so disgusted in that instant that she swore she would've given up the job she'd taken upon herself.

He had dirty blonde hair and sea green eyes that were now glazed over. Just like before, they rolled back into his head to disappear forever, sea green eyes never to be seen again. The world was a roaring monster, devouring anyone who dared step out of order. War made it that way, too, and Ana was promoting the idea of it. She felt ashamed.

"Thanks," she murmured to Trenton, and -- feeling a little risky -- grasped the grip of the knife and yanking it up from his body, watching the blood slither away from the blade of the knife in a very, very sick gratefulness.

"No problem," he said in return, "you can keep the knife, by the way." Ana nodded, but the silence spoke for her and he left, probably to go kill someone else, because that's what you do in war: you kill. You murder. You rid the world of lives that may have been insignificant, but they did matter to someone in the world.

And once again, the only sign of life in Ana was the soft beat of her heart....

Bump, thump, thump, bump, thump, thump.