Dark Trees and Light Leaves - The Story of Mother Earth's Revenge

Clever Escape pt.1

This is when chaos ensues.

From all directions, multiple people sprint towards the two exits that open for the soldiers to leave. An alarm starts blaring inside the room. I suck in a breath and curl in on myself, watching the discord as two more soldiers rushed in and began holding back those who made a run for it. Every runner is grabbed and disabled. When all the soldiers are occupied, a few more get up and sprint towards the exits. I remain where I am. This has happened before and I remembered nothing but agony after getting caught.

Guess they really don't want to fight in the war then.

A select few remain still, not daring to deviant. I should be glad for the chaos, knowing that there are still those who have the will to fight captivity. I have that will too but I'm not blind to seeing whether it's a good opportunity or bad opportunity. This is a bad opportunity.

One runner gets through the door but as I watch, they get shot in the skull. Their now dead husk falls to the ground, accompanied by ringing from the sound of the gunshot. I wince.

~

My mind seems to wander in a chaotic valley of flashbacks before being brought back to the present by a soldier lifting me off the ground. I remain quiet and comply, getting up and trying not to react to my arm nearly being torn off.

This fucker. Do they not know what gentle means?

I survey what happened, one other runner had been shot, while others lay on the ground disabled. Multiple soldiers are harshly pulling the ones who did not try to escape towards the entrance I had previously come in. I grit my teeth.

I am shoved out of the building. In front of me, the one who had been sitting to my left stumbles, receiving a harsh insult as punishment. I had never really paid attention whenever these soldiers would start complaining and insulting me. I figured it was them ranting about their insecurities but under my name... or at least the name I had been given upon being imprisoned.

I catch myself as I'm thrown into a wagon, multiple people are crammed into the small transport. I had been in wagons before but never one so small. I decide to take position as closest to the middle as possible. I hate corners as they wouldn't allow me any room at all if I ever feel the need to shake my wings a little in order to relieve some of the aching. I step over legs and arms, inching my way across the small truck bed. I settle in a small spot, gently pushing a leg - and momentarily recoiling when it moves - before settling in place in the middle. I tuck my legs close to myself and stare at my hands. My nails are the shortest they had ever been, having permanently stopped growing after having been bitten down so many times. Dirt and grit somehow fit into all the small crevasses of my hands. I hate having my hands so dirty.

I remain sitting there as the faint sound of an engine roaring to life causes whispers of panic and uncertainty to erupt around the cramped space. I care not to listen, instead using it as background noise to lull myself into a numb state of absent pondering and depression.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but eventually a kid no older than ten pokes me on the thigh. I jump and they recoil.

"Sorr-"

"What do you want?" I whisper harshly, feeling a very sudden surge of exhilaration that I push down instantly.

"I just haven't seen you before. I wanna know who you are in case you need someone to remember you..."

"Uhhhh, ok. Why?"

"Well... I don't exactly have someone to remember me." The young hushed voice sounds sorrowful, ready to accept the fact that they may not make it even a week out on the frontlines. I understand the fear, being forced to go against an unknown enemy with very little hope of surviving. It's still sad to think I was once that young and threatened with death. Now I could care less if I died as long as it means the oppression will end.

I nod in response, thinking about what I should give away to this youngster.

"My name is supposed to be Helena-33... but you can call me Kadija. You?" I keep my voice at a whisper.

"Wow, uh, my name's Alt-4... I don't remember my real name." The young one sheepishly smiles.

I nod.

"...I'll be sure to remember you, Alt-4."

The young one brightens up ever so slightly, the prominent depression lying underneath those brown eyes disappearing, even if only for a moment.

~ This pause between dreams is brought to you by Phil Swift with Flex-tape™️ ~

The doors to the wagon opens and people start getting up. The less compliant are dragged off. I am one of them. I hold back yelps and winces as my elbows and knees scrap the ground, the skin rubbed raw. They would be bleeding if I hadn't been wearing a hoodie. My wings shift slightly, the aching more prominent now.

As I'm dragged along, I look around the camp.
It's situated in a Soul Forest from what I can tell, the non-dangerous ones chopped down and collected to create smaller buildings surrounding three metal arenas aligned in the shape of a triangle. There are walls all around, blocking escape, with guards posted everywhere. The ground is rough, baked dry by sunlight and lack of rain. The clouds above glow pink in the red sky. There are other wagons too, many more people filing out and walking towards what appears to be the main arena of the three.

The guards herd us all into the middle of the camp. I grunt as I am let go. The soldier before us looks to be no older than fifteen and their voice confirms that.

"On your knees! Our king will be addressing you!"

I'm already on my knees.

Others who do not comply are harshly shoved in the back, forced onto the ground. Nothing out of the norm for us. Behind the soldier, a heavily armoured man, with a golden crown and the richest of custom malleable plating (of course) walks out from behind a thin curtain of vines. I instantly hate him. This is supposed to be King Soul, the heir of the Great Majesty Alyssabeth. I never knew how the kingdom managed to adapt to the sudden change in rule when Soul was crowned. Then again, there is no way for me to know as I was not born a citizen and wasn't alive to see the Great Majesty's rein. I assume she was kind and just. Soul, however, is literally the opposite of just. The soldier who originally spoke steps aside and bows before walking out of view.