Brother

Tundra

All eight pairs on feet pound on the ground. It's the only thing I can focus on.

I'm not for sure where we are going. My mother and I drag our feet. We are exhausted even though we haven't done much of anything. But I try to stay strong. For her, for me.
The bitter wind is relentless. My dress blows forcefully in the wind. Not to mention, it's pretty cold. I can hear my mother shiver. I wish I was back home.

My sandals are about to give up, I think. I wish I had boots like the others. Something to help me. I'm pretty sure my feet are blistered, and they are most likely to have frostbite too. Yet I keep walking. I push through the pain.

Theodore stands by my mother, waiting for her to fall. She's fell a couple of times, and each time he picks her up. He's nice. And sweet.
My mother isn't so nice. She tells him to leave her there while I beg for her to try. I think she's gone already. Along with my father. It's odd to see how easily your life can change. Right now, all I know is we are walking. The Civils lost. I am doomed. My mother is too.

I loathe myself for thinking like this, but I can't help to be jealous of my father. If only these soldiers were so evil to kill us all, then maybe. . . Nevermind, I think as I watch my mother struggle.

We are in the back of the group. The rest are in the front. Two of them are talking to each other while the leader says nothing. I see a building in the background, surrounded by huge boulders. It stands tall and proud, gleaming in the sunlight. I'm guessing that's the Regrime's building. I've never been over here. Dad and Mom said people would hurt you if came over, knowing that you're apart of The Civils. I look around the land; it appears the same.
Skeletons of trees slumping down. The ground is just as dry at home. Very little vegetation, beaten by the Winter's hand.
In the distance you can see little houses crowded around one another, like people gathering for warmth. I've known that the Regrime is by the sea, unlike The Civils.
I wonder what the sea looks like.

I stop gazing at the surroundings, and back to the people. 

I glance over to Theodore. "Hey, Theodore, what's his name?" I nod to the leader.

"Whose?" He asks and I point to the guy. His shoulders seem stiff, his head pointed down. His black boots drag too.

"Oh, that's Jacobson. He's alright and everything, just a little cold." I continue to watch him walk. I watch the way the gravel moves around his feet. I watch the way his brown hair moves in the wind.

Jacobson.

That name doesn't fit a murder. I shake my head at him, I don't want to think about it anymore.

My eyes move past him, towards the others.

"What about the two talking?" A chubby short boy with black hair chats with another with black hair.

"Chubby one is Toby. The real skinny one is Otis." I notice how the uniform for Toby is so long the sleeves are rolled up. Opposite with the other. His are too short.

I look over to Logan. A rifle is hooked onto his back. He walks with his hands shoved into his pockets, a scowl plastered on his face. Behind him is another boy. Shaking and scared. He holds his gun uncomfortably. He gazes at his feet. He is tanner than the others, not including Theodore. His hair is blonde. He is the oddball.

"His?" I nod over to the small boy. Theodore peers at the boy, sadness in his eyes.

"Spencer." I look back to all of them, trying to remember their names. These are my kidnappers.

They were forced to do this, but Jacobson didn't have to kill my father.

Or was he saving you? You knew your father could have got out of hand when he drank. Maybe if Jacobson hadn't killed him, maybe your father would have killed you.