REBEL CLOTHES ✓

THE RAVINE

When Tyler woke up at the bottom of a river, unable to breathe, he knew he was dreaming.

Panic set in, and before Tyler could stop himself, he gasped for air. The water covering every inch of his body flooded his mouth, the icy sting of salt filling his mouth and lungs. Tyler felt like if death was something to be worried about in Dema, then that would be what if felt like.

Tyler sat up manically gulping for air and blinked several times, the hot wind channeling around him a relief to the cling of his clothes to his skin. He coughed for a moment, some water still stuck in his lungs, and stood on wobbly, numb legs. The rocks felt smooth under his feet, soft grass tickling between his toes.

The rocky edge of the ravine he was in stood high enough to almost block the sun, a path of pebbles following alongside the river. Dark clouds dulled the sky to a steel grey. Tufts of grass and brightly colored plants grew between the rocks, and ahead of him, the river thinned until only a soft trickle was left. The color around him was overwhelming.

After gathering enough strength and courage to look around , Tyler began to walk, hidden by the shadow being cast from ravine, and began looking for something he recognized in his surroundings.

There were a lot of colors you didn't normally see in Dema. Some people had sky eyes and others had grass eyes, which were a rarity- Tyler's eyes were a common brown, the color of the earth. It was bizarre to see anything bright, especially colors that the Bishops saw as threats.

For some reason, he wore all black- not an uncommon occurrence in Dema- with thin, red stripes at the collar of the button up shirt and cuffs of his pants, which were torn at the knees. He was barefoot, and his fingertip were wrinkled. His clothes hugged his frame, the cold dampness making him shiver.

Normally, in Tyler's dreams, he saw old memories played back like they were stored somewhere in he back of his subconscious, waiting desperately for center stage in his sleep.

A realistic dream wasn't something that frightened him. What through him off was the fact that he'd never seen a place like that in or out of a dream before. Nothing around him looked remotely familiar. Tyler had never visited anything in Dema that looked quite like the ravine and its dark yet comforting atmosphere.

None of the plants looked familiar to him. Every gun in the area was new to him, and that made Tyler more nervous than the thrumming of drums under his feet and all around him. The beat shook the ground under him, or maybe that was an effect of the dream. He didn't want to stay asleep long enough to find out.

Footsteps pounding in time with the rhythm of the drums directed his attention to the edge of the ravine, where people had gathered. Their faces were covered with fabric and they wore dark green jackets with stripes of a color he didn't recognize.

They didn't seem to notice him as they walked along the edge and to lower ground.

"Hello?" Tyler yelled, cupping his mouth. "Can anyone tell me where I am?"

Nobody glanced in his direction. It was like he was invisible to them. He started to follow them, curiosity and desperation being a terrible combination of his personality. Even if they didn't notice him, surely one of them might say something that'll give away his location.

Along the way, he began to pick up pieces of conversation from a few of them. Many of their words meant nothing to him, others made his blood run cold.

"I knew it wouldn't work-"

"-North Tower is still standing, so we can't-"

"Underground, maybe, but-"

"Bishops are planning something big-"

"More escaped, but none of them knew-"

"Which one's the spy-"

"Need a distraction before-"

Tyler, too engrossed in the conversations he was tuning in to, didn't realize that someone had been following him. The gallop of a horse came too late, and when he turned around, he only caught a glimpse of white and red before being tossed to the ground by the force.

He extended his hands to try and catch himself, but his foot caught in a tangle of roots sticking out of the ground. Tyler landed face first in the river, scraping the palms of his hands and his chin.

The openings on his knees were suddenly a horrible fashion sense. They ripped even further, and the exposed skin stung from the saltwater.

Small droplets of blood formed on his palms, making him nauseous as the water began to turn a translucent red. He could feel warmth running down his neck.

Pain wasn't a common thing to experience in Dema, and good thing too. It was excruciating.

Tyler somehow got to his feet and looked around for the horse. He saw it facing the way it had came, getting ready to run straight towards him.

The rider was enveloped in a dark red cloak, the hood masking their face. Only the Bishops wore hooded cloaks like that, but most had a benevolent aura to them. This Bishop only emanated terror.

As the Bishop kicked the horse and it started towards him, Tyler planted his feet into the rocks and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the hit.

"It's just a dream," he told himself. "If he hits me, I'll wake up."

He could hear the horse getting closer and closer, but before the impact, another pair of footsteps from behind him made Tyler open his eyes. Two hands appeared in front of him, the black fingerless gloves already putting Tyler off. The hands pushed Tyler out of the way and into the river, taking the hit directly.

A boy dressed like the people from the top of the ravine flew to the other side of the horse, which skidded to a stop a little ahead of them. Blood trickled down the stream.

Before Tyler could see who helped him, the boy, along with the Bishop and the rest of the ravine, dissolved into smoke before his eyes. Tyler woke up face down on the floor of his room, his cheek pressed hard against the rough grey carpet.

He pushed himself up so he sat back on his legs, his chest still heaving. There was no blood, no scrapes, and most importantly, no horse riding Bishop.

Tyler scratched his head, trying to make sense of what he'd seen, and felt something soft and almost feathery tucked into his hair.

It was a flower.