Skye Crying

08 ║ Amara

~ Sorrow: Noun ~

A feeling of deep distress caused by loss, disappointment, or other misfortune suffered by oneself or others.

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Clip Eight - Amara's POV:

My footsteps echoed off the ruined buildings, rebounding off of the wreckage and making me flinch as it assaulted my eardrums, my head throbbing. 

One of the food scouts had taken the lead, as Sierra had told her that she was going to go scouting in the upper class neighborhoods, hoping to find some good stashes of unspoiled food. 

The sun had risen to the middle of the murky grey sky, signaling that it was around noon. The surrounding buildings were flooded with the scorching orange glow, letting us see the interiors fully. The heat seared the back of my neck as I paused for a moment on a mound of debris, scanning the eerie city street for any signs of movement. The Mendeni seemed to have a strong aversion to light, so they were rarely seen during the day. The afternoon was the part of the day were your chances of being caught and killed were slimmest.  

Unfortunately for us, we had to leave the camp at dawn, a time when the Mendeni still stirred in the fallen city, so everyone in our search party was on edge, jumping at the slightest sound or stirring. 

A sharp movement flashed behind the broken window of a old store, and my head snapped that way. I could've sworn that I saw what looked like a long, barbed silver tail whisk out of sight, and I walked forward to take a closer look.

"Amara!" It wasn't a loud cry, but it sounding deafening in the unnatural silence that rested heavily around me. I whirled around to find that everyone had already rounded the street corner up ahead, but Cole had hung back, making sure that I was following. 

I turned away from the broken storefront and jogged lightly over to where he stood, trying to muffle my footsteps in the dusty road. He gives me a worried look but I ignore it and continue running after the scouts, heartbeat pounding in my ears. If I had really seen a Mendeni, that meant that we were being followed and I couldn't risk alerting Cole to its presence. 

The question was, why not attack me and Cole while we were separated from the larger group? Fear bubbled up inside of me despite my best efforts to keep it buried. A image of my mother's corpse flashed through my mind and I quickened my pace, Cole right behind me. 

When we rounded the street corner, we entered the ruins of what used to be an upscale neighborhood. The scouts were about 15 meters in front of us, and they had stopped in front of an enormous mansion. 

The left side looked as though it had been blown up by a large bomb, charred scraps of the building littering the ground. Flaming light filtered through the broken door and windows, casting an intense fiery glow on the debris that was scattered on the ratty front lawn and street in front of the house. It didn't look much different then the rest of the rundown mansions in the neighborhood, but a strong sense of sorrow radiated from it, as if warning us to stay far, far away.

The scouts weren't moving, but standing in a circle staring soundlessly at something laying on the ground in front of them. I felt Cole moving behind me, whispering to me, but I couldn't hear him. I stumbled forward blindly, and all of the horrible memories of my mother's death flashed vividly before my eyes. I reached the circle of scouts and shoved two of them aside.