The morning breeze swept across Thomas face. It was cold and sent shivers down the boys spine. Thomas shot upright and wiped the sleep from the corners of his blazing blue eyes. The boy stood slowly from his hammock, wondering what the time was. He checked his watch, 06:30, early for Thomas. The sun had just become visible of in the distance.
Thomas slowly crept out of the tent, desperate to not wake anyone up. His scooted past Minho and Breda, Jorge and Frypan, before finally coming to the entrance. He turned his head so he was staring at his friends. Thomas grinned a slight grin before his face returned to its resting position. He turned again and walked out of the opening.
The breeze that woke Thomas had settled. As he stared out across the deep sea. Ships were dotted by the shore in no orderly fashion.
Newt.
Newt came into Thomas's head. He had thought long and hard about having had to kill his best friend. Every time the name came in his head, he started to well up. This time was no different. Small tears filled the helpless boys eyes and they were soon rolling slowly down the side of his pale face. Thomas didn't wipe them away. He wasn't ashamed to cry over Newt. Newt was special to him in every way.
Thomas heard a snap, a twig snapping. The sound echoed around the boys head. He turned so he was facing the forest behind him. Thomas saw a figure duck behind a tree. The figure was surely a man, Thomas could tell from his form.
Thomas's curios brain, walked him over to the entrance of the thick forest. The oak wood trees rode roughly 90ft high and the tops were full of dark green leaves. The man snapped another twig, he came out from behind the trees. The man was holding a gun. He pointed it at Thomas's chest.
Thomas stepped back in shock. His eyes widened.
"Janson?"
