Marked

Chapter Eight

There was silence for a long time.

She remembered that more than she remembered the crying. Maybe because the crying was so awful to remember.

Jose's absence was a hollow sound, a missing pair of footsteps as they trekked the woods in search of the mark maker, a sharp pain behind her rib cage.

Though she'd hardly known him...she wondered, with a heavy heart, how much worse it was for the two surviving brothers.

Their mother and brother had just been violently killed...and right in front of them.

"Maybe the mark maker will help us." Hector had said, voice hoarse.

All things considered, they were out of options so no one had objected.

Half way through the journey, Simone, in a tiny, defeated voice, whispered, "What will happen to all those kids...?"

The others turned to look at her but it was Hector who replied.

"They'll be marked most likely and then integrated into their twisted society."

"My sister..." Simone breathed.

"Mine too," Hector replied and there was a distinct pain in his voice, the sound of anger and frustration and more than anything else, the sound of defeat.

The black sky overheard held the promise of rain stamped over it in thick, gray clouds with the sun nowhere near rising and even though she was cold, Rachel was glad.

Before, venturing into the woods at night had been a reckless and dangerous thing to do but tonight she was thankful for the darkness that cloaked them and hid them from the poachers.

And it was easy to tell that they were not being followed.

The poachers were not keen on keeping quiet and were always more than happy to cheer when on the hunt.

She supposed it was their way of instilling a special kind of fear on the unmarked.

But tonight, mercifully, only the sounds of nature trailed them.

"We need to rescue them, you know? We can't just sit around here and do nothing when they need to be saved." Juan said.

"But how?" Simone asked.

Juan ran his hands through his hair in frustration, probably realizing that their odds against the capital weren't great, maybe even nonexistent. "I don't know, but we have to do something. We can go to the Mark Maker, ask him to mark us and then go after them."

"That would be suicide," Rachel said gently. "You saw what they were capable of."

"We should set up camp for the night." Hector said as he let his backpack fall to the ground. He turned in a complete circle as he surveyed their surroundings.

Trees rose overhead, filtering in only slivers of moonlight. A heavy boulder, densely littered with moss lay directly before them. An owl hooted somewhere high in the trees and there was the pitter-patter of tiny bush animals skittering by in the darkness.

Hector pointed at the boulder.

"That will keep some of the wind away; we'll spend the night here and find the Mark Maker at first light."

They gathered behind the rock, using it to have something to lean their backs against. They couldn't even start a fire and it was so incredibly cold.

"Hector," Rachel began.

He lifted his gaze to her and she could see how sad his eyes looked even through his shaggy, brown hair. "We can't just sit here and do nothing while those kids are marked."