Wild ― Piper McLean

―i. unanswered prayers

SHE WAS SO COLD. The wind cut through her jacket, through her sweatshirt and skin and soaked into her bones as if it belonged there. Every part of her ached—her leg, her chest, her throat. 

This was how her world ended. 

There was no salvation from the damnation they had walked into, chins raised and swords in hand—child soldiers who thought victory was inevitable, so long as they marched without hesitation, so long as they listened to their leader.

Why had he brought them here? Why had they followed? How had they been so arrogant, so foolish to believe in the wild dreams he painted for them, dreams of glory and legacy that were never his to offer? 

Her ears rang with screams—her own, her friends'. A voice like an avalanche cackled, taking delight in the terror and blood that coated the area like humidity over a summer lake.

A raven cawed overhead, and it sounded to her ears like a funeral song.

She stumbled. Someone near her, voice a desperate plea, prayed for salvation—for forgiveness. 

The gods didn't answer.

🌿

Verona woke with a strangled gasp.

"Whoa," someone said as she tried to catch her breath. "Welcome back to the real world, Sleeping Beauty."

Verona blinked once, twice—five times, trying to remember why she was gasping, where she was. Trying to remember... anything.

She looked up so fast the world spun for a moment. She squeezed her eyes shut again, confused.

"Hey." A hand entered Verona's line of sight, hovering over her denim-clad arm. "Everything okay?"

Verona followed the hand to the arm, then up to the face. She stared, trying to figure out if she'd ever seen this girl before.

She was... beautiful.

Verona felt her face grow warm, and she looked away before the staring could go on too long. "I don't—" she started to say, but her throat was so raw the words came out as a croak. Her face grew hotter, but the girl only frowned, looking concerned.

"Here." The girl reached down and rifled through a bag at her feet, producing a metal water bottle with a plethora of stickers decorating the pale blue surface. "Drink."

Verona did exactly that, taking a long enough sip to no longer feel like she was on the verge of a hacking up a lung.

She handed the bottle back, managing a much smoother, "Thanks."

"No problem," the girl said. "Bad dream?"

A second look confirmed Verona's first impression: the girl beside her was undeniably, unfairly beautiful. She wore faded jeans covered in rips and doodles from an ink pen; hiking boots with frayed laces and more than a few scuff marks; and a fleece snowboarding jacket that looked worlds warmer than the denim jacket Verona had on. Her brown hair, a few shades lighter than Verona's own, was cut choppy and uneven, like she'd cut it herself without a mirror, but it still framed her face perfectly.

The girl was gorgeous, but she was definitely a stranger.

Verona frowned, sitting up a little straighter. She looked around and tried to make sense of where she was, cataloging her surroundings. She was in a school bus, sitting on one of those uncomfortable leather seats with no seatbelts and probably way too much gum underneath. A few dozen other kids sprawled in the seats around her. They looked around her age, maybe... sixteen? Sixteen sounded right. Right?