Chapter 1.3

The noise in the room was shocking- I'd spent my entire life in almost silence in an orphanage in the countryside- the sheer magnitude of sound was nauseating. We appeared to be in a war room.

"Oi! Move it!" the doctor snapped, pushing me aside so he could enter the room. "this way…" I follow behind him, clinging to him, as we navigate through the mass of chaos and sound. When he stops abruptly, I collide into his back; as a response he seizes me with the scruff of my neck and im shoved in the face of bald, rough-looking middle-aged man. "Here Rickon, I've got a new kid for ya."

Without an incline of interest his rough fingers grasped my chin and forced my face up to look him in the eye, "Hope this one lasts a bit longer, the last one weren't worth the food we fed him." He finished gruffly with a cold smile that sent shivers down my spine; he grasped my chin so tight that when he lets go, I stumble back and knock into someone behind me.

"Little shit!!" I hear before I'm flung back into Rickons table as another man kicks me. My head hits the edge of the table; my vision turns black and I inhale sharply. I could hear the other men around Rickons table laughing as he lifts me from the floor by my nightshirt, "Little brat don't you pass out, we're gonna need you tonight."

"Try not to get this one killed as quick as the last." The doctor complained.

"I hear you old man, but it's not my fault that they're so god damn fragile."

Doctor muttered something incoherent, then stumbled off in the opposite direction.

"Dark Moon Squad, we're moving out!" Rickon yells at the top of his lungs. Theres mass movement amongst the other men around the table, grabbing their equipment and folding up the documents, including a map containing a convoluted route written in code. "You too brat, I told you we're gonna need you for this one." He calls over his shoulder, and a trail after him, frantically dodging and weaving through the chaos of the room.

Out back there was a car park of sorts, it was actually an over sized drive, but there were a dozen identical trucks parked there. I climbed in the first one after the other men, but there wasn't enough room on the seats, so I sat cross legged at their feet, where their shoes crushed my hands when I lost my balance.

After a three-hour drive, the truck dribbled to a stop; the terrain had become too uneven to go by truck, so we filled out and went the rest of the journey by foot. I hadn't changed clothes since I left the orphanage, so I was still wearing my night clothes and without shoes, and due to hiking through the woods, I was shivering in no time and my feet were scratched and bloody. But I kept up with the men, even if one of their steps were two of mine, I refused to fall behind. If being owned by these men was the hand I'd been dealt, then so be it, I won't let it beat me. For the sake of survival, I absorbed everything I could- who took orders from who, the small tensions between which men, and who shot sadistic glances in my direction. As for where we were headed, I had so little knowledge of geography that I only knew that we were headed roughly North West.

Rickon was up front, and when he suddenly signalled we all came to an abrupt stop. He gave a series of hand gestures I didn't understand, but the men all moved at his command. I hovered where I was, listerning to the grunts and curses as fights broke out in places I couldn't see. The forest was dark, the canopy barely let any light through to the floor, almost as if it was night, I searched desperately with my eyes but I couldn't see a thing beyond a few feet in every direction. Out of the corner of my eye I caught flashes of movement, and sounds surrounded me, yet I never caught a glimpse of the fight. It was over as soon as it started, in less than a minute, the Dark Moon Squad had supressed the enemy, and were returning to the path we were taking. Some had red patches on their trousers as a carelessly tried to wipe their hands clean and used their cuffs to wipe blood splatters off their faces.

I also noticed that they each carried guns, but they used their knives to fight with. In the entire fight, I didn't hear a single gunshot, from the enemy or Dark Moon Squad.

"We're close to the border now, so stay vigilant." Rickon instructed.

There were nine men in Dark Moon Squad including Rickon, each of them were middle aged men with a lot of fighting experience. To be honest, when I first met them, it was hard to tell them apart. Rickon was bald, but the others all looked too similar to me: dark shortly cropped hair, aging faces, muscled, and mostly wearing scowls. For most of the journey all I saw was the back of their heads so I couldn't distinguish them anyway. Names weren't really used, so that didn't help.

We crept along the forest floor, slower this time, occasionally stopping to listen to the sounds of the forest. After another half a mile, Rickon suddenly froze. His body went tense as if he was about to pounce, and the men stop in mid track, following suit. He opens his mouth to speak, but he's interrupted by something hitting the ground at his feet. Smoke starts hissing out of the little cylinder, and everyone scatters into the trees in different directions.

I stand there, dumbly as smoke circles my legs, someone shouts "Run boy!" but I could neither see nor hear the direction of its origins. The forest was dark enough before, but with the added smoke it was impossible to see anything. Shadows dance through the smoke and I hear sounds; heavy breathing, grunts, fist hitting flesh, moans, blades clashing… where am I meant to run? I couldn't see! I tripped and stumbled on a root protruding from the ground, falling flat on my face. I hear a chocking sound too close for comfort, followed by a gurgling and a rough thud on the floor. I scrambled to standing position and spun on the spot- everything looked the same. Where were they? Are we winning? I was too disoriented to tell which direction we came from, and which of these fleeting shadows were allies, and which, our attackers.

A twig snapped behind me, and a spun to find myself face to face with an enemy. The man held a bloody knife in one hand, held diagonally upwards, ready to strike, and an unused gun in the another. There were stains on his cuffs where blood had ran down knife and onto his hands. As our eye met, he lowered the knife, "a kid?"

My legs shook and my entire body went numb, he's going to kill me he's going to kill me he's going to kill me, I think over and over in a never ending loop.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, but all I could do was stare, my mouth wouldn't move. His accent was the same as mine, he was like me.

Everything stopped. A hand appeared behind the enemy, reaching out of the fog like a ghost and cutting his throat with the knife it held. My face was sprayed with warm wet, the man shuddered and stumbled forward, tripping me as he fell face first onto the forest floor. The man didn't even see it coming. Then he died.

"Cheers kid!" Rickon stepped out of the thinning fog, thanking me for my participation in this mans death.

I might have screamed if my throat hadn't closed up then. I was chocking on my own saliva, I reached as I pushed the body off my entrapped legs, and rolled over, sicking up bile and whatever I had left in my stomach. I tried to wipe the blood off my face, but my hands were bloody as well and I smeared it across my cheeks like some poor taste war paint.

By the time the smoke fully cleared, the fighting was well over. Dark Moon Squad wiped out the enemy force with two fatalities and one casualty.

I thought I'd seen enough, but I discovered then, that these people were monsters. Two of their own men were dead at their feet, and all they could do was roll them over with the soles of their shoes, "This one's dead." He reported flatly, while he began rummaging through his pockets while another undid his laces and forced off his shoes; measuring them up to his own, then went about replacing his shoes with the dead mans'.

Their bodies were still warm, and they were grave robbing their own squad. All around me, the rest of the squad were doing the same to their enemies- ransacking their bodies for valuables and replacing their worn-out equipment. Each of the men did this like nothing, but to me there was something fundamentally wrong with it. That man had been alive five minuets ago, fighting alongside them.

"Jay, over here!" one of the men called.

"What is it?" the man called in reply.

He held up a ring enclosed on a sliver chain that hung around his dead comrades neck, holding it up to the light to inspect the red gem it encompassed. The ring is yanked from its resting place around the dead mans neck, "do you think it's a ruby?" he asked, passing it to Jay.

Jay shrugged, "Maybe, if not, it'll still sell for a pretty penny."

"Get ready to move out!" Rickon called, and Jay passes it back to the previous man who pockets the gem.

"What about Jace?" Jay gestures to a man moaning on the floor, his chest was bloody and there was a sickly pool of blood around him, socking into the soil. Despite this, it was the first time anyone had taken notice of the wounded man. They filtered out his groans and stepped over his body when he was their path.

Rickon gave him a brief glance, "if he cant walk, get rid of him." He answers coldly, then turns away ready to leave.

While the other men do some last minute salvaging, Jay unsheathes in knife, bends over the injured man, adjusts his head and cuts his throat, all in one swift motion. The pool of blood flowers out from his throat, saturating the ground in muddy crimson. His muscles do tiny dances, and his finger nails claw the bloody dirt, ripping at the soil as if trying to hold onto life. Tortured gurgling sounds escape his throat, as blood pulsated out of the hole in his neck, where his jugular had been completely severed, and the flesh torn open so that if it were for the sheer amount of blood, the artery could be seen. He died quite suddenly, the struggling just stopped, his irises grew wide and dark, and something quite fundamental simply ceased in his body.

Blood continued to pour from the slice In his neck like a never ending stream of red, but I watch the death for a moment too long, "we're going to leave you behind brat! Get up! We're going to need you for this next bit!" he hissed, and I struggled from under the body trapping my legs and numbly stumbled after them.

Again we trailed through this boundless forest, and I began to wish I too had ransacked a body for some shoes. The thought echoed through my body with a shock. How could I think like that? I wondered, but my feet were bloody and sore; each step was painful, and dried leaves and grit stuck to the blood on my feet creating a dirty film on my soles. My night shirt too snagged on branches, and my stomach churned on its own lining with hunger. I'd been with these men for a day, yet my thoughts had already started turning sour. I didn't want to be one of these monsters I trailed after, but I knew that if I intended on living, (and I did, no matter what happens, I intended on surviving), I would probably have to leave behind the luxury of thinking like a human.

We walked on, for what felt like an eternity on injured feet, we didn't meet anymore enemy patrols, and we only came to a stop when we reached a clearing. The squad lingered at the edge of the trees, restlessly looking on at the vast clearing that spread out as wide as the eye could see in both directions. Rickon checked his compass and nodded to himself.

"Here," he turned, and caught me with both hands gripping heavily on my shoulders. His eyes intently staring at me through slits in his eye lids. "This is your first job," he mummed, "all you have to do is walk through that field and to the other side." He explained coldly.

The task was simple, but I was puzzled by the fear that weaselled its way throughout my body. He pushed me to the clearings edge, just ahead of the line of men behind me. I'm handed a tin, containing what looked like chalk powder, "as you walk along, pour this behind you." He added, before shoving me onto the grass.

I griped the tin with shaking fingers, looking across this mundane field, wondering why I was so afraid. My breath shook, and my feet felt numb. I must have lingered too long, as I feel a knife whip past my head, grazing the top of my hair as it blew in the gentle breeze. KABOOM! Heat erupts from somewhere ahead of me where the knife must have landed, dirt and rock flies everywhere, causing two more KABOOM's to explode where heavy rubble had landed.

"Get movin'" Rickon orders, I don't turn back, but I hear the grin in his voice.

I was standing in a landmine field. I was frozen in place, it took my everything to continue standing on shaking legs.

"Kid! Move it! Or the next knife is in your back!" he called, and no doubt he had a knife in his hand ready to go, but im too busy staring across the deadly expanse to turn to look.

My right leg steps forward, and then my left, then I'm walking straight into the middle of a mine field. I get maybe fifteen feet in, when a pang of fear so painful that it causes me to double over stops me in my tracks. I knew that if I'd taken another step, I would be dead. Instead I veer off to my left for another few steps until a little voice inside me tells me I should level straight again. I listen to this danger sense, navigating through an invisible maze of mines, and leaving behind a convoluted trail of chalk powder in my wake.

By the time I reach the other side, Dark Moon Sqaud were already following the trail I left behind, but with the tension suddenly released, my legs give way beneath me, and I collapse in a heap, choking on bile rising in my throat for the second time that day. Too soon, the squad joined me on the other side of the field. Rickon turned to each of his men in turn, "This stays between us." Then to me, with his harsh unbelieving eyes, "get up, we're not done yet."

I wipe vomit from my mouth, and struggle to a stand, using a nearby tree to lean on. For a second, a large dark shadow flits across my vision, one too big to be a man, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone again. I screwed my eyes shut and when I opened them the other men were leaving without me, like nothing had happened. I put it down to a trick of the light, and once again, I stared at the back of monster's heads, as I limped after them with empty thoughts.

Under the canopy, the forest grew even darker, too dark even for the other men to see, and finally we came to a stop and set up camp. I say set up camp, but we have no fire and the men worldlessly nibble on the food they'd brought with them before settling into the sleeping bags they carried in their rucksacks.

I wondered if I should steal some food from one of the men while they slept, but the first man on watch stood dangerously close to where I lied, if I moved even a little, he was be alerted and I wouldn't even get a chance to steal. So instead, I brought my knees up to my chest, tucked under my nightgown, and tried to ignore the gnawing pain in my stomach and the cold of the forest as I slip into a restless sleep.