The Duns

Did We Win?

Chapter The Next Number

Catherine

He walks ahead through the overturned trees, into the woods. We follow him blindly, not knowing where he plans on going and why he isn't dead yet.

As we walk, we realize that the rest of Aunt Eliza's visions came true: everywhere we look, dead bodies lay slayed, bleeding, one on top of the other; there is no difference between our people and their soldiers. The effects of an unnecessary war are overwhelming, and I can only hope the human race doesn't continue following this.

If you're wondering, most of us are dead as well. Max is still here, though, and me, saved by Ester's sacrifice. Sure, I was told that would happen, but imagining and happening are so very different, aren't they? They are.

As we walk further into the woods, now clearly heading for the stream, our night from three days back comes jumping into my head.

Peter on the rock, his eyes lost, hopeless; the silver pendant dangling soundlessly from his fingers; the cool breeze that hit us from further up the stream. Every moment of it was special, something I will always keep close to me, forever.

Peter means everything to me.

But Peter was supposed to die.

So, then who is this fair, bleeding boy limping towards the riverside?

I run ahead to catch up with him, linking our hands together. He holds on tightly. He is here; I can feel him in every touch, in every step, in every look that he gives me, thinking I don't feel his loving gaze. He is here.

But Peter is supposed to be dead.

Maybe the person responsible for his death was murdered during one of the battles? Maybe Peter got away somehow? Maybe, though this may be unlikely, the person decided not to kill him?

But how can you run away from destiny? How can you skip the future?

I have known Aunt Eliza for a long, long time- my entire life, actually- and her visions are never wrong. We reach the edge of the stream and Peter lets go of my hand. It feels cold without him- cold and empty

He walks towards Max who stands a little further away from us and hugs him, tight. Neither of them says a single word.

We won the battle but there's nothing to celebrate and no one left to do it with.

It's only when Peter pulls away from Max and I see that there's a streak of mud-filled tears dancing down his cheeks that it hits me. Death isn't always imposed by another, death comes in the form of a stronger substance, a stronger Man and the only one stronger than oneself, is that very person.

Peter is the only person strong enough to kill himself.

Oh shit.

"Whatever you're going to do, stop. Don't do it." I say to Peter sternly, putting my hands out to block him. He still walks ahead. My hands are now against his chest. He pushes further towards the stream. "Peter, you don't have to! You can stay, we can stay. The three of us, we'll go back. We'll be fine. It would be like this never happened!" A stone pulls down in my heart. I could never forget this.

Peter smiles and pulls my hands down; I have no energy left to hold them up anymore anyway.

"It's okay, Catherine."

"No. No, it's not!" Tears flow down my cheeks. "You can't go!" My voice wavers unpredictably.

Many people assume that war is most taxing on the physical state of the person, but that's not true, not for me, at least. The strongest part of your body is also your weakest; your mind can achieve incredible feats, like four powers, for instance, but what happens when something this strong gives up? What happens when the mind gives up?
This is what War does worst: killing people mentally to such an extent that-