Chapter 3
The latch was undone, her quiet retreat unnoticed in the gloomy morning hours.
Struggling for the nearest handhold, she braced against a neighbor's house to steady a body wracked with tremors and felt a trickle run down her thigh. She had wet herself. And she couldn't care less. Cold sweat and misty morning air did nothing to cool the fire crackling through flesh and bones.
Every bone in her body demanded that she just lay still and submit to her fate. How many more years could she crawl without screaming before a neighbor found her sobbing in a ditch? Already she'd chewed her tongue bloody, dug her fingernails into her palms until they bled. Anything it took to stay quiet. The Alphas were close, the shooting stars in the sky a sign they descended through the atmosphere and would touch down in mere minutes. They'd be storming through the village before the sun rose, and should she be unable to move, they would find her while ransacking the settlement, convulsing beside a mud-filled animal pen.
Pulling desperation around her like a comforting blanket, Dianne forced her body forward another step. It took her over an hour to stagger the short distance to the settlement's boundary, another hour to reach down the road to the nearest tree line.
No matter the wildlife, the forests were safe enough if one knew where to hide—safer by far than the massive warriors, with their vermilion armor, their weapons, and their cruelty. While the Alphas went shelter to shelter taking what they desired, Dianne would collapse beyond their notice. While they loot, she'd suffer alone. She'd suffer a thousand days of pain for her mother. She'd suffer the guilt of watching other families grieve their stolen children upon her return. And once the sun set, their ships bursting with stolen people and goods, the Alphas would have no reason to stay. They would leave. They always did. And her pain would end as it always did. Dianne only had to stay unseen for one day. But freedom wouldn't count if she were found struggling on the road.
A sharp turn to the right, and the grass' morning damp began to weigh down her dragging skirts. Fabric caught on her ankles and sent her sprawling against a dogwood tree. Ten paces from the stone path, she lay unable to move a single step further. Under her body, the ground was mud, soggy with fresh water from the stream just out of reach. One sip, a mouthful of sweetness, she craved it more than life. But she could not move no matter how she tried. Curled upon herself, the crackling pain traveled through bone and organs. Crying against the dirt, time lost all meaning—an eternity of fire in the center of the ugliest hell. For hours she lay, cold and ill, with her body's temprature rising and with rough roots digging into her spine. Hours lost in pain. And then the Alpha ships began to rise into the setting sun. One by one, dozens of vessels filled the sky and began to disappear beyond the atmosphere. With them went the source of her torment. Expanding her ribs in her first full breath since before the sun had risen, she twitched her fingers, then her toe arms, legs, all movement slowly began to return. Damp with sour sweat, caked in drying mud, she crawled wild, unkempt, and exhausted toward the nearest source of comfort. Trickling water was taken by the mouthful. Hands and face rinsed clean of mud and crusted tears. There was nothing that could be done for her dress. Grass had stained it, sodden mud having smeared her mother's fine design. Throat burning as if it was dragged through sand, she told herself to get up. Stomach sloshing, nauseated, Dianne found her feet and let the tree at her back bear her weight until she might find the strength to walk home.With a weak smile, she said a prayer for forgiveness.
But did the spirits listen?