➳ Camille

One week after the war officially began, Grand Olea, Fort Elysium, Cerevaux, and Trijan were all in battle. Fluu Glurg was getting ready to fight as well and the Three Seas were considering joining. There were two sides: the Major Army and the Alliance of Carnage.

Once the sides had been established, I created my army. Using members for Jude's gang and other angry exiles, I had built it to a respectable number.

My army, under the country of Skog, would enter the Alliance of Carnage. I would wreck my home country, who so brutally disowned me, and Grand Olea where the root of all my problems was found. Fluu Glurg, and any other country that joined in their stupid army, would get caught in the crossfire.

"Alright! Today is the first day of training!" I proclaimed to the group of people in the candy shop. It was the first ever official meeting of the Army of Skog. "We will go to the fields by the toxic lake. Remember: do not touch the toxic lake!"

Over the past week, seven people had already died due to the nuisance of the lake. Two children that were attempting to get some water. One old lady who was blind and lonely. Three random teenagers on a dare. And one other who I didn't hear the story of.

"Everyone will get their own weapons. Get your own armour," I continued. "Our color is blue."

"Isn't that Grand Olea's color?" Presley asked bitterly.

"They don't own colors," I snapped, which led to a few cheers. I stepped down from the crate I was standing on and walked outside toward the lake.

Once we got to the field, which had dust, not plants, I turned to the mass of people. "Elf magic with Presley. Potions with Bofa and Patty. Bow and arrows with Sierrahlee. Guns with Jude. Karate with Sketch. Sword fighters with Rikki. Phaeryee magic with Nikki. And daggers with me. Clear?"

A chorus of, "yes ma'am," answered my question. I smiled and went to a corner of a field to wait for my group. I was being seen as a leader.

I quickly began to instruct my group with the dagger Jude given me a week ago.

Occasionally, I looked over to the other groups. Presley was mostly showing off his magic. Bofa and Patty were letting the goblins they were teaching figure it out on their own. Jude was still upset from the week before when I moved out and was lazily teaching his group. Sketch was desperately trying to teach people and please them at the same time. Sierrahlee was teaching her group quickly and quietly. Rikki sliced the heads off dummies with blood-thrist in her eyes, practically ignoring her group. Nikki taught her group kindly, helping everyone individually, but moving slowly.

Soon, after hours of intense training, dinner time rolled around. Lunch was never an option in Skog, something I learned quickly. I dismissed my group and walked over to Sketch.

"Ready to go home?" I asked.

Sketch looked down. "We don't have any food," she mumbled, embarrassed. My features softened.

"That's okay. We can go hunting for some," I said. Sketch looked up at me with a smile. We walked away from the field and away from the lake, towards the woods. Hopefully we could find a bird or a rabbit. A quick dagger to their neck would earn us a nice meal.

For some odd reason, life in Skog seemed more fulfilling than life in Cerevaux or Grand Olea. I wasn't completely sure why.

A robin suddenly fell from a tree above me. I jumped back in surprise. I squatted down to find the bird had a broken wing.

If I was younger, I would have taken the bird home to help it recover, but life wasn't like that anymore. I slit the bird's throat and picked up the lifeless body.

"Did you get any plants?" I asked Sketch, looking at her closed bag.

"A few tulips and a good amount of rhubarb," Sketch responded with a smile. I nodded in thanks and we walked home.

While we walked along the dirt road to Sketch's hill-top house, I began replaying what happened with Jude. I had left him in a haze of fury. I gave him back the necklace he stole, though I kept the dagger. I had taken everything I had brought and rushed away without a second glance back.

Should I move back in with him? Sketch had a tiny shack and could barely afford to feed herself, and hunting everyday was not ideal. Jude, however, had plenty of food, at least in comparison, and room for me to stay.

But was it even worth moving back? We would train for a few weeks before we left for battle.

I resolved that when I came back from battle I would allow myself to move back in with Jude. Though Sketch would likely be livid.

Sketch's house sat on a hill an hour's walk away from the rest of the town. It was one story and painted with many, many colors. She had called it abstract art. I called it a mess. The roof of the house was slanted and contained the room I was staying in, previously the attic.

The inside of the house was also wildly painted. There was a door that led to the bathroom, the door that led to Sketch's small room, and a ladder that led to the tiny attic.

Sketch walked outside to cook the bird over a fire, since she didn't have a kitchen. While she did so, I sat at the table and began making a sort of salad out of the ingredients.

After we ate our small portion of food, Sketch got ready for bed. She walked to her room and, after only a couple minutes, she was out like a light. I trudged up to my room and plopped onto my pallet.

I stared at the ceiling, which was a bit too close to my face for comfort. I began to once again consider moving back in with Jude. Yes, we only had a couple weeks left before battle, but I didn't want to burden Sketch any longer. Living here was like a camping trip. It was fun, but it soon became uncomfortable.

Yet I was still happier than I had been anywhere in Cerevaux. In a way, I was glad they exiled me. Why would I want to be a citizen of such a doormat of a country? They just followed whatever Grand Olea did, and that place was almost as bad as the detention.

I sat up and changed out of my overalls and uniform. I slipped on my pajamas and crawled under my thin, itchy blankets.

That night came with another unwanted dream. Instead of a battle scene, my mind was filled with an image of a neighborhood. I recognized it as the neighborhood I grew up in. Children ran up and down the street that was lined with propaganda posters.

One read: "Save the trade. Vote pro-war!"

And another read: "Vote pro-war! We are fighting for the goods we get."

One poster simply showed an image of a man labeled "Grand Olea" handing a woman named "Cerevaux" a few gems in exchange for food.

Another poster showed the same man and woman shaking hands with a "Vote pro-war!" label above it.

Suddenly, a large aircraft flew overhead. All of the kids looked up and started cheering. Older kids began rushing into the neighborhood. School had just let out, I guessed. An excited chatter arose from all the children.

Was this what people were doing now? Making children think that war was worth cheering about? I would rip those posters down... if only I could.

The scene faded away to a classroom. I found that it was my old art class. Drawings of propaganda covered the room. Ms. Gauthier sat at the front of the room, instructing my old classmates to paint more and more propaganda. Though she didn't call it propaganda; she called it a 'call to action' poster.

I curled my fists. They really brainwashed everyone in Cerevaux. By "they," I meant the government of Grand Olea.

I woke up feeling furious and disappointed.

Sketch wasn't awake and I needed someone to vent to about my dream.

I left Sketch a note that read: "I'm going to see Jude. I'll be fine." I left the note on the table and began walking to Jude's house.

I arrived just as the sun finished rising. I knocked on the door, waiting impatiently for Jude to come. After eternity passed, Jude opened the door. I rushed inside, almost knocking Jude to the side.

Jude followed me, mild surprise and deep confusion painted on his features. Not bothering to sit down, I stood in the hall and began to spit out my anger mercilessly.

He didn't ask any pesky questions like he usually would when I ranted. Only when I finished, he asked me to sit down with him. I did, leaving an inch or two of space between us.

"Camille, I have a million dumb questions to ask you. But I have one that is a billion times more important than the rest," Jude said, reaching for my hand. Jude's dark eyes met mine. "Is it possible that you have feelings for me?"

At the sound of his voice, a million images shot through my head. Our meeting. The car ride to Skog. The necklace he gave me. The thousands of times he tried to protect me. The way I ran to him before I ran to anyone else. His jet black hair, his delicately strong wings, his warm yet dark eyes.

"I... I think that..."