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It's been a few days since they captured those people, questioning them on everything they would think of. Sooner or later, they knew their target. It was no other than Primrose Colony, it was even confirmed after they passed some signs, the same signs that Tom saw with Juliet all those years back. That put some doubt in his mind about this, the better half of him was telling him not to do this, and maybe she was there, but the smarter, logical side was telling she was dead, and this was his ticket back home and it would all be over soon.
For a few days, the group had already been outside of primrose, hiding in the woods, scoping out their victims very carefully from the view of the tall trees. They felt it was best to wait a little longer, to wait for the right moment. They learned about their enemy a little while longer. So they stayed a few miles away, their camp set up, their weapons ready. Their training had gotten more intense, practically just training to kill. That's what they were there for, so they couldn't let their home down, or else the consequences would be huge and they definitely couldn't let Carter down.
So they stayed, in the same place, just resting up before they hunted their pray. Quite honestly, some didn't want to do this, they understood why their men died, they were just trying to protect their home, but others were too blinded. Others were thirsty with revenge and ready to rip others homes to the ground. You could already guess where Tom stood with all of this. He hated this, but he knew it was not good to get attached to a subject, so he felt indifferent to it all. He just hoped there won't be a lot of kids there.
But by the childlike laughter heard from inside the walls of Primrose colony, he knew he was wrong, his brain still decided to ignore it. So he waited, sitting down on a wooden log by himself. In silence, he sharpened his knife. Ever since it was confirmed they were attacking primrose colony, his heart sank in his chest. It was a lot to take in, desperately he tried to reason with himself, trying to make his brain stay stronger than his heart.
Without knowing it, his brain had ultimately lost that fight. Getting up swiftly, he stuck the knife into the log only to take it back out, and began walking to the tent that was front and center. People had been walking in and out of this tent for the past couple of hours which led him to believe that this is where they were keeping those poor souls they took hostages. Although no one had been in there the past thirty minutes or so. He knew this because he had been secretly keeping an eye on the tent for a long while. Contemplating wether he should go talk to the people inside or not.
Before walking in, he looked left, then right, then left again. The coast was clear. As soon as the fabric was pulled aside, the people tied up flinched in fear, their faces covered with black cloth and purple bruises. He didn't really like the sight that was in front of him, he felt bad. They were the key to answering some of his questions. Closing the opening of the tent, he grabbed a small stool that had been put aside. Once he had it, he placed it to were it was facing the frightened people.
