...and then we came to that dirt road, and God knows we should have just turned back. Just stayed at the edge of the wood. Just...anything except crossing it. Anything would have been better than that. If we had just waited, taken a break for five, maybe ten minutes...

But no. We had peeked out from the tall grass at the side of the road, and things had looked clear. It was summer, it was hot, and we needed water if we were to make it to our next stop. My father knew there was a pond across it and on our way, he had come through there once as a child with his father. More than that, though, was that we could see it in the distance...the tower that marked the end of our long pilgrimage, the safe haven we had heard of.

So we were desperate. We got caught up in the moment of finally just seeing a sign of our journey's end. We didn't think. And after another quick look both ways - revealing just an empty road that stretched near infinitely one way while the other disappeared in a curve behind the wood - we chose to cross, as quickly as we could. But quickly for us is not quick at all, especially when it comes to a family of six, with two of us not even teenagers yet. When your big sister walks with a limp. When your grandfather is getting on in years, and moving slower every day. So we crossed at the quickest pace we could manage.

To this day, it disturbs me how clearly I remember those next few moments. Though I trust that the readers will forgive me if I choose to be sparse in my words. I was bringing up the rear with my Granddad, and in front of us were my mom and older sister. Up front was Dad, holding my little sister's hand. We had gotten about a quarter of the way across, when suddenly my older sister tripped over herself a bit. Mom caught her, thankfully, but Dad still turned around to check up on her. And then...

And then there was a hole in his chest, easily the size of his head. Everything seemed to freeze in that second, as his body was propelled backwards by the impact. All we could do was just sit there and stare at him, at his corpse with that disgusting, gory hole. I know that I had stopped breathing...I think that all of us had, then, as we processed what had just happened. But eventually, my head started to turn in the direction that...whatever had done that to my father seemed to have come from.

A light drizzle of warm, red liquid hit me then, even as my eyes found the cause of my father's death. A bit down the road, where it curved behind the thicket, were three Alpha boys, probably just a couple of years older than I was the time, though I profess that I didn't truly have any time to study their details. No, what drew my attention was what one of them held in his hands. Straight black iron on polished wood. Pointed right at us. I learned sometime later that it was apparently called a "pellet gun" or some-such. That it's commonly used to exterminate small pests. I'm sure that the reader can imagine my disdain upon learning that.

Of course, I could only be unphased by that sudden spray of liquid for so long, especially after the soft thud that followed it. I tore my eyes away from the distant Alphas even as a chorus of raucous laughter emanated from them, and focused instead on my more immediate vicinity and the source of that thud.

My grandfather's body greeted me, splayed ignobly across the dirt. His head was just....gone. It didn't take me long to realize what had sprayed across me. I was young, not stupid, and at first I did the only thing I imagine a girl that age could be expected to do.

I screamed. Not for long, my mother saw to that, but I let out a good one. My mother had quickly grabbed me, pulled at me. Got me going. Got me running. I could still hear that distant laughter, but I didn't dare look again. The ground was steady, that meant they were keeping their distance, but the Alphas had twice proven that they had no need to close in. The person with the gun seemed to be more than adept at its use. So we ran, and we made progress. But we still had our limitations. My mother was carrying little Mary after catching up to her and scooping her up. I was in near shock and almost tripped over my own feet I don't know how many times. I was also eleven, and already bordering on dehydration.

And then there was Anne, with her limp. Anne who started to fall behind, who simply pushed me forward when I attempted to hang back, to help.

Anne who was promptly split in two at her waist just a few feet from the edge of the road, to the sound of thunderous cheers.

Anne who was still alive, and how I still have no idea. But as I started to scream once again, she screamed even louder for me to go, to keep going, So I did, and caught up to my mom and Mary. We found a place to hide at the edge of that road, and readers will have to excuse me if I don't give details on that. I'm not about to tell any Alpha what they might look for if one of us suddenly disappears. We sat there, listening to my sister scream and sob in anguish and pain as what little life remained drained from her body. I still remember Mom holding her hands over Mary's ears in an attempt to save her from that noise even as the two of us quietly sobbed to ourselves, desperately attempting to keep the sounds of our grieving low should our tormenters come near.

My sister's voice faded into nothingness soon enough, Along, I hope to this day, with her. I hope she was dead by the time those boys passed by. They were laughing and cutting up as they did so, about something that wasn't even us. We had apparently been some quick distraction, a passing amusement, and quickly fell to the back of their minds.

Still, though, we waited in our hiding spot for some time, fearful that they might be quietly lurking nearby. Eventually, we went on our way. We didn't dare look back at that road, much less go back for the bodies of those we left behind. Instead, we continued forward, and through some blessing or another, every step we took from that moment on was an uneventful one, the the point where I honestly feel no need to say another word about it.

I cannot adequately express how simultaneously that fact both relieved and distressed me, as we reached our goal just a day later without the barest hint of danger. That I am happy that we made it without even further casualties should go without saying.

But that a difference in minutes cost the lives of my father, my grandfather, my big sister...that just a few minutes later or earlier on our part would have meant the difference between a decimated family and a whole one?

That will never leave the forefront of my mind. Fifteen years after the fact, and it still hasn't.

But we made it there. To salvation. To providence. To the tower that marked the presence of the new gods, the ones we had heard of, the ones that would protect us. The ones that did and continue to do so. They don't like us calling them that, and it's gracious of them to feel that way, but I don't care. You can quote me on that, and this: Anyone that would do that for us, that would lift us out of that hellish existence where our only purpose in life was to die...to provide joy to others through our suffering...that's a fucking god to me. One worth every bit of praise I can give to it.

And don't you dare leave that out.

-Sophie Miles

"Whatcha readin?" a perky voice called from out in the distance, and Naomi nearly dropped her tablet from sheer surprise, so engrossed had she been in her reading. The device briefly bobbled between her hands before she managed to secure it, holding it tight against her chest. A girlish giggle could thundered around her.

She desperately needed to wipe her running nose, her eyes. She could swear that every successive account given in this book just got worse and worse, yet she didn't regret reading it. Not for a second.

And then it hit her. How familiar that voice was.

Lifting her eyes from her tablet with a sniff, Naomi couldn't help but do so as slowly as she could manage in an attempt to stall. Even then, though, it didn't take her eyes long to lift from the foot of her bed to the floor of her little room, nor to the glass that imprisoned her. Two fair towers could be seen on the other side, and Naomi's mouth went dry as she continued to trace them upward. Upward and over the rim of her cage.

Please, no, she thought to herself as her eyes locked with two far-away icy-blue orbs. As she took in those familiar eyes, that familiar strawberry hair.

"Well?" asked Jenna Reynolds, even as her lips parted into that wide, toothy, terrifying smile.