Ch. 3: The Boy Of Cry...

A small battle for a good cause.

The trucks roared and bashed around as they made their way through the forest.  The soldiers held tightly onto their guns and scanned the forest, scared of what they might find. A gun cocked and a young man was readying himself to pull the trigger when a Liouxctawes shifted position in their seat. A dozen or so Liouxctawes were chained, drugged and lumped together in the back of a truck surrounded by armed guards. Bushes rustled around them, trees bent back and forth and the faint sound of footsteps haunted the ears of the soldiers. A man who was stuck in the middle of a pile of other Liouxctawes was near death; his blood was draining fast out of a cut made near the top of his arms. Was it the drugs or the blood loss that made his vision blurry, which made him unable to think of anything, or remember how he was captured?

            His hair fell over his face obstructing his vision entirely. The truck was rammed over a fallen tree and knocked the boy to the edge of the truck; his body hung lifelessly over the edge, blood dripping down the edge of his chained hands. His hair moved lightly over his face until he caught a glimpse of the forest around him. His brain jolted away from the drugs that were preventing his movement. Shadows moved elegantly throughout the trees, keeping at a slow pace to keep in time with the trucks. A pair of familiar yellow eyes met his gaze; he knew what to do. He nudged his fellow prisoners with his elbow, “Kiakouteinwa” he whispered to each.

A few widened their eyes; others remained still, broken by the large amount of drugs in their system.  He watched the shadows dance around the trucks, kicking stones and snapping twigs, teasing the soldiers who walked cautiously with their guns held high. He was losing blood… he was losing his vision, his breaths became scarce and soon, the shadows emerging and a pair of long, elegant pale legs jumping from the trees was the last thing he saw.

           

            She couldn’t wait another moment, his eyes struggled to follow their movements; they had to move. She narrowed her eyes and readied her bow, and with a running start she and the other shadows emerged from the trees, and released their rage on the small soldiers. They screamed and fell backwards, frightened they shot their guns at any slight movement their eye caught. A few Liouxctawes realized what was happening, and despite not having the best reflexes, they jumped from the truck and ripped their chains apart, attacking the drivers. “Aerqurlyn!” a voice yelled. Aerqurlyn turned around and swung her bow, sending an electric blue lash across the chest of a soldier attempting to decapitate her. A tall blond girl rushed forward and hugged Aerqurlyn. “Thank you” the girl murmured as she held out her hands, encased in chains. Aerqurlyn’s pupils grew to fill the entire eye, she held up her hand and with a spark of blue she slashed apart the chains. Aerqurlyn handed the girl a knife and she ran to help kill the rest of the platoon.

They continued to fight as more and more bodies, both Liouxctawes and soldier lay strewn about the path-way. More of the prisoners began to help, soon they were running about in a daze, knocking things over and getting themselves killed. Aerqurlyn heard a crash and whipped around. The truck that once held the prisoners was tipped over and it crashed on its side by the edge of the forest road. Aequrlyn’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the boy’s lifeless body roll from the truck, and into a ditch. She began to run towards the truck. “Cry-” a gloved hand wrapped around her mouth before she could finish. The soldier dragged her to the ground and his blade grew and slit through her right arm. She screamed and with the pain a large blade emerged from her elbow and ripped straight through the man’s head. A disturbing crunch and squish as the plates of the head were broken and blood and brain began to flow. Aerqurlyn breathed heavily as she clutched her arm. The small battle had died down by now, dead bodies lay strewn about with a few soldiers here and there, still twitching in a silent plea to live.

 

 

 

 

            A bony hand reached out of the forest and towards the boy. The fingers curled around the boy’s collar, each finger wrapped in black ink to match the design of every District holding Liouxctawes. He pulled the boy’s body out from the ditch and dragged him into the forest without making a sound.