The Night Marchers

Chapter 7

She didn't know how long it took for her cousin to fall asleep but she guessed it was hours. She could hear him from the tent over, laughing with another guy. Very carefully, her hand latched onto her brother's wrist. With some strength, she pried his arm off her. He didn't even move. As skillfully as she could, she quietly removed herself from the bed and tent. Slipping out of the flap, there were only a couple people still at tables with maps. With careful precision, she scuttled around the tents towards the wall and made her way out of the cave.

Outside the cave entrance there was a sheet of white. The wind sliced against the cave walls. Well, at least I do not have to make the wind, thought Layla as she took a step out. The wind immediately picked her up and carried her off. After an hour, Layla flew out of the snow storm and looked for a place to land. She needed sleep.

Basically falling out of the sky, she grabbed a branch from a tree she passed. Layla found herself in a forest full of fur and spruce trees. Her eyelids fell closed before she could even notice the scenery around her. As it was close to spring, the snow came in drifts and the animals hibernated. Her body shivered as she rested her head against the rough bark. Even as the darkness creeped into her mind, she kept a tight rein on her body temperature. Then, the night sky brightened ever so slightly as the hours passed.

Inside the cavern with the Night Marchers, Yovon stepped into a tent with only a man and not a teenage girl beside him. At first, it was normal until he remembered the small form from last night. His heart raced as he thought of her just using the restroom but she wouldn't know where it was.

"Garrett, Garrett!" His young leader cousin shot out of bed. "She's gone." He whispered.

"She's been brainwashed..." Her brother sighed. "We need to prove it to her. Get the men ready and start attacking the special ops compounds."

"On it," her cousin pushed through the tent to get his work started.

Just as he get through the flap, Layla awoke in her tree to start her journey once again. Tremors ran through her body from the cold and overuse of her element. Then, she flew into the sky, escaping from Russia's cold misery.

The wind blew into the girl's ears ceasing all noise. Her screams deafened to the world around her. She turned, flipped, and rocketed down through violent wind turbulence. A roar behind her hummed in panic.

During that moment, a lone ship sailed the deep blue skies on their daily patrol. Inside, a crew member stood, horrified. He noticed her only seconds before she past their window on the bridge. Then, a screeching woman alerted the rest of the crew.

"Jackson, Craney," bellowed the first commander, "get this ship below her! Someone get on the haul to grab her." He flailed his arms still processing the fact that a girl flew past his window.

Suddenly, two people raced for the door bumping into each other.

"Shove it," the woman shrieked, "she doesn't want your grubby hands touching her!"

"She wouldn't want you touching her either, you sleazy weasel," the male snarled.

"You're the sleazy weasel, Weaselton." She spat in his face, all matter of urgency escaped them as they bickered.

"It's Weselton!"

"I don't care who goes, but somebody, just go!" screamed the captain from across the deck.

The two shoved and screamed the whole way, creating a racket. Headaches pounded the skulls they past, leaving grumbling in their wake. Second commander, Josh Brimolli, followed behind them leisurely. He was notorious for his lackadaisical ways even during emergencies. His long legs strolled down the hall towards a door. This door, in particular, gave way to a ladder that led to the top of the ship. Opening the latch, the wind blew him back--if only for a second.