It had a sharp quality to it it smelled like snow.ДЄ dark blur dropped out of the tree behind me. The afternoon air was pale and still between us. The shooting from his or her end came to a sudden, unexpected stop. I fired one shot back, aiming for the spot I thought I had seen the person before, across the stream. The gun IвЂ™d fished out of the glove compartment was warm in my hand as I pulled it up from the waistband of my pants. вЂњKeep your head down!вЂќ I whispered to Chubs, all but shoving him behind a dense cover of growth. The bullets screeched as they cut through the air following our path as I rolled the two of us back into the shelter of the tree line. I felt something tug on my backpack, and I turned away from the small explosion of snow and dirty leaves when the bullet tore through the ground beside us. I threw myself over Chubs, tackling him face-first into the ground as the first shot was fired. Otherwise I would have missed the silver glint of gunmetal between its branches. It was only dumb luck that I turned back to the stream when I did, that the wind pulled back the evergreen foliage of the trees across the way. They donвЂ™t have a life outside of the League-they, we, I mean, were taught to only trust one another.вЂќ I fought back the first sting of panicked tears. вЂњThe tribe of Blues weвЂ™re looking for?вЂќ he asked. ChubsвЂ™s eyes widened as he caught my train of thought. вЂњTen of them? Why would they all be out here, in the middle of nowhere?вЂќ This time he was the one to shoot the thought down. We would have seen them.вЂќ Or at least, that was what I was telling myself. вЂњDo you think they were taken by soldiers? Ones the blockade sent after us?вЂќ вЂњCouldвЂ¦вЂќ Chubs swallowed, shifting the bag uncomfortably on his shoulders. Shit, I thought, threading my fingers through the messy bun I had twisted my hair into. I walked a ways along the bank of the stream, looking for stray tracks, human or otherwise.

Scar in the middle of my forehead