Exodus to Freedom

Chapter One: Just a Girl in a Camp

"My name is Lyla Byron.  I am 17 years old.  I live in a rebel camp.  I kill to survive."  I say my thought out loud to sooth myself.  I look up at the doe, peacefully grazing in the clearing in front of me.  But I know  that it does need to die.

   It's always been hard for me to kill something.  It was hard for me to watch my Dad put down my puppy when I was little.  I cried myself to sleep that night.

   I let out my breath and notch my arrow.  I let the string go and the arrow whizzes by my head and hits the deer in the chest.  Its muscles give way and it crumples to the ground.  I let out a sigh of relief.  It's over now.

   I pick up the reins to my horse and lead it to the animal.  The horse whinnies.

   I look up and survey my surroundings. I see dark green trees, and a cloudless blue sky.  Light reflect off the trees and brush and makes the ground yellow.

   I brush my black French-braid to fall down my back, about halfway down.  My pale skin glows an awkward yellow in the morning sunlight.  I think that I look like a vampire.  Jet black hair, pale skin, only a little freckles across the bridge of my nose and along my cheekbones.  My freckles are the only things that make me look human.

   "Lyla!"  I hear a voice call from the direction of the camp.

   "Coming!"  I yell back.

   I walk back through the forest, dragging a tarp with my deer on it behind me.

   I think about how lucky I am.  How luck to live in such a good place with such good people.  Lucky to live in this camp where I get to be free of everything.

   In the city, they choose everything for you.  Your husband, your job, how much money you get paod.  And you all have to live in the house they tell you to live in.  And the worst thing about the City is that it is covered with a fence.  So nobody can get out without a goverment card, and you can't get in without a government card.  The only way unofficial is if you dig a hole under the fence and climb under.

   In the camp, we don't even use money ,we trade things.  Like a pair of wool socks for a warn sweater.  Useful things, not some stupid little green paper that has some old guys picture on it.  In my opinion, if I give you a little green paper, it would be stupid for them to give you something more valuable.  Money is rather stupid, if you ask me.

   Right now, we're out on a hunting trip.  So we're not in our Camp.  We sleep in tents instead of log cabins.  The tent me and my Mom share, since Dad's out spying in the city, is not too big, but it's spacious.  But right now, I'm the only one who can hunt.

  I step out of the trees and into a meadow where we have camp set up.  Our tent are tan.  We have bear skin and fur on the inside of the tent to keep us warmer.

   Back on the other side of the mountain, out cabins are built, log cabins, that is. Each of the families had to build their own.  Ours is not too big, but it has some space  to live in.  We have two bedrooms, an outhouse, a kitchen, and a living quarters.

   In the center of camp is a big log cabin.  It's the church, and where the Pastor lives when we are on hunting trips.  It's the only log cabin we have at camp.  Since we come here every year, the camp people did not see a reason why the Pastor shouldn't get a log cabin here.  In the Camp, the Pastor and the church are a sacred place.  It's the only thing besides our ancestors weapons that can tie us to our ancestors.  There is no fighting, weapons, or any alcoholic beverages.

   "Lyla Byron!" The voice calls again.  "You come inside!"

   "Coming!"  I yell in return as I dash into our tent.

   My mother sits on the floor in our tent, breakfast on the floor in front of her.

   "Did you catch anything this morning?"  She questions curiously.

   "Yeah,"  I answer.  "I shot a doe."

   "Oh honey that's just wonderful!  That will put meat in our fridge for quite a while."  Mom beams at me.

   "Any news from Camp yet?" I ponder.

   "No," She quietly and looks down at the ground.

   "Mom-" I start.  "You're a terrible liar.  There is something that you're not telling me and I know it."  I say carfully, afraid of the truth that could come shooting out of her mouth like a friework at any moment.

   "Okay.  It was reported that soildures were lost in a battle this morning while you were out hunting."  She bites her lip.

   "Okay,  I reply evenly.  I's not.  It can't be.  It's not Dad.  If my Dad was dead, then I would feel it.  I would KNOW.  I would feel it."  I sigh.

   "One of the bodies described matched your fathers description."  She said slowly.

   "No No No.  This can't be happening.   He's still alive.  He's not dead.  He's NOT!"  I scream.

   "Honey, yes he is.  They found his body.  Dead in a ditch.  They know that it was him."  She argues.  "I'm sad too, but we need to move on, we need to keep going  When your father signed up to be a spy, he know that this was a possiblity.  But he chose to stay strong and to fight for what he believed in.  He was brave.  And that's what you need to do right now.  You need to be strong and brave.  You need to do it for HIM.  That's what he would've wanted."

   "Stop it!  Stop talking about him like he's dead!  Stop it! Stop it because he's still alive, hes's still out there and I know it!"  I scream at her.

  "Come on Lalya, you can be better than this.  I know that you're more than just some girl in a camp."  Her mouth forms into a deep frown and her dark brown hair falls to her shoulders in curls.

   "No Mom, you're wrong.  I really am just some girl in a rebel camp."  I say as I grab my hunting bag and my bow as I storm out of the tent, away from my mother and everybody else in this messed up world.