Land of the Prides

Kidnapped

There we were, a group of immature teenagers, running for our lives. They were after us. A swarm of ghostly pale children ran towards us. Their eyes were bloodshot red. Each of them had little hair noticeable, and wore dark red cloaks around their shoulders. Their lips were a frigid blue. Their hands bony, and filled with rusty chains, ready to capture us at any moment. They could've seemed human like, if it weren't for those eyes.

Those red eyes, with no iris nor pupil to be seen. Just a streak of what appeared to be blood shone across them. And they grunted, like beasts.

It seemed as if we had been running all day, which in reality had only been a matter of minutes.

Dorsi was to my left, her jet black hair, wavily cascaded down her back. Her skin was a perfect snowy white, with eyes blue, piercing through my soul with every glance. She was thin and limber, but Grant and Par showed no sign of affection towards her, due to her boyish personality. This only made her more beautiful though. I had been in love with her since the sixth grade.

Par ran at my right, or more so "jogged with determination", as he wasn't the fastest horse in the race. Sweat ran down his scalp like a fountain. His spiked auburn hair and cheeky freckles made him look much younger then the rest of us, who were in our junior year.

And then, there was Grant. Grant, the mastermind. Grant, the heartthrob, whom Dorsi always seemed to fall for. Grant, the weightlifter. Grant, the jock.

Grant, because if you weren't Grant, you weren't good enough.

He ran ahead, at a pace so fast, no one could have caught up with him.

The childlike figures were on our rear, edging closer and closer. What did they want from us?

Par was the first to go. Slugging behind as usual, their heavy chains were a better match. They lashed out at him, clutching his foot in lasso formation.

"Par!" screamed Dorsi, in a shrill, dry voice.

We stopped in our tracks.

"It's okay!" Par shouted. "The chains are strong, but they don't hurt," he said confused.

Grant and I looked at each other. Would he run? I thought to myself.

"No," he spoke. "Let them have us. If we fall, we fall together."

Grant always spoke like a politician, always knowing what to say when, even if he was lying.

I had to agree with him on this one though. I was hungry, tired, and scared. If I had kept running, I'd be lost.

The mysterious beings finally spoke.

"You children-" spoke one, before Dorsi interrupted.

"We are not children," she said defensively. "I'm almost seventeen!"

"Anyways, before you freak out, let us introduce ourselves. We are known as the hounds. We have no true identity. We obviously resemble children, yet we're almost apparitions. It's true, we don't belong here. We have no control over anything. We've been told that we are lost human souls, killed on the battlefield, given a second chance. We come in the name of the chancellor."

"What do you wish of us?" I asked, more authoritative than expected.

"You all are different," a more soft and feminine voice answered. "We don't know why. Your talents will be further looked into at the observatory, via the base. We are not permitted to tell you much more, as our knowledge is limited anyways. Just know this, we do not want to bring harm unto you."

"Then how come you sent my friend toppling to the ground with swinging chain mail just now?" asked Grant, furiously.

"Chancellor's orders," The last 'hound' answered.

"Who is this chancellor anyways?" asked Par, shaking grass off his khakis.

"We are the chancellor's servants," they answered in one unison voice, hypnotically. This creeped me out a bit. "She is a very powerful leader, and if you come with us, you could become skilled as her, live up to your names."

"So, you just want us to leave our homes?" I wondered.

"Yes, James. Your parents knew this would happen. You have skills, powers. You must let us assist you in containing and protecting these powers."

"How, wait, how did you know my name?" I asked, scared.

"No time for questions," one said, scooping us up on chain hammocks. Our legs flipped into the air.

"Where are you taking us?!" Dorsi screamed.

"Act now, ask later," a hound replied.

"I demand an answer you, you-" she couldn't even finish her sentence before they saw the dreadful sight. A dozen other kids stood by a rickety bus, their hands shoved in, wait, were those finger cuffs?

"You're our last stop," said a hound, gently shoving me on board.

There we were, sitting in a crammed old bus, with nothing but a row of wooden benches on either side.

The hounds walked to each child, with kids as small as eight and teens as old as twenty. Each one winced.

I didn't realize what they were doing, until they came to me. A small syringe was aimed at the bold blue vein, poking up through my wrist.

"What are you doing?" I screeched, recalling past experience with needles.

"Relax," they reassured me. "It's just a sleep inducer. Base location is top secret. Don't want any leaked information."

Reluctantly, I took the needle.

The last thing I remember was Dorsi's soft head, asleep on my shoulder, her long hair fanned out against my chest.