"I wonder how it started." I turned to see Nia playing with a piece of her short-cropped light brown hair. "I mean, it had to start somewhere, right?" She added hastily, all signs of her previous confidence evaporated.

All of us were gathering leaves and whatnot from outside to try and make comfortable beds in the rundown shed. Although everyone was still shaken by the discovery of the chests, it was obvious that no one was willing to directly talk about it, instead choosing to distract one another.

Sophia approached us, her tight bun let down in long, straight strands. "Ni's right." She said, using Nia's nickname, which was only reserved for her since they were best friends. "I wonder who did it."

I flinched, the wound still tender and the guilt running deep. "I'm sure whoever did it is probably really guilty," I said, trying to act nonchalant, gathering some more leaves for the bed, before laying down in it and using my jacket as a blanket. A small part of me hoped that they would be forgiving.

"If they're still alive," Nia said matter-of-factly. "I mean, I hope they are, but if they were and they still haven't told us..." Her voice trailed off, and Sophia nodded empathetically.

As the best friends began to make their beds, I sank even farther into my small corner. I was so stupid for even considering that they'd forgive me. Why would they? I'd wrecked all of our lives and killed so many people. And how many of us were left now? 10? 11?

Drowning in self-pity and guilt, I didn't even realize when soft snores filled the air. I rubbed my eyes and my vision refocused just in time to see Diana looking around before exiting the shed, leaving behind everyone else. Hesitatingly, I forced myself up with the palms of my hands, wincing as a sharp rock dug in, leaving a tiny red mark that quickly faded. Grabbing my jacket, I followed her as silently as possible at a safe distance. She climbed a small hill and stood there quietly, her hair rippling around her in the gentle wind, having escaped from her dark hoodie, of which the hood had fallen.

"Hey."

I mentally smacked myself. Hey? I was talking to my best friend for the first time in months - if I could even call her that anymore - and what I said was hey?

Nevertheless, I looked at her hopefully for a response, but she looked away, picking at something on her palm while crossing her legs underneath her, almost crumpling on the soft grass. In the silence, I marveled at how the moonlight bounced off her silvery hair. When it shone so brightly, it was hard to remember the inky black it once was, but the memories were seared in my head.

I found myself climbing up the mound silently, minus the twig I accidentally stepped on in the process, the snapping sound having sent a sharp noise through the peaceful night. As I sat next to Diana, my breaths came in rushes. The darkness of the night seemed suffocating almost, the silence smothering. I felt compressed like I couldn't breathe.

I didn't know what to say, so I just casually said, "The moon looks really big."

She shrugged and scooted away from me. I could tell by her slight frown that she didn't want to talk with me, or anyone for that matter. I mean, that was made quite obvious already about a few months ago, but it still kind of hurt. More so because we used to be best friends; I didn't quite know if I deserved that title anymore.

"Can you please talk?" I blurted out. "I mean, you haven't said a single word since that day and I get that it was weird, but-"

"Weird?" Diana turned to me, her eyes filled with such a deep sadness that I barely registered the fact that she had finally talked, and the fact that I had finally asked her to. "Just weird?" She held up a strand of hair, the white strands blindingly reflecting the moonlight. "Everyone treated me differently after that, even you."

"I'm sorry," I protested. "I know it was wrong of me to do that, but I didn't mean to."

"You could barely look at me," Diana whispered, her voice laced with hurt.

"It was a lot to take in," I told her, my voice low. "And I can't say anything to defend how I acted after that, but isn't now the time to let go of the past? We're alone, Diana. In the woods, with no adults here with us, and we all know you're probably the only one who can help us survive here." I shifted in my seat. "You're also the only other person who knows about how the fire started." It was hard for me to speak through the guilt, but I forced the words out.

Diana looked at me and swallowed back her words. Her eyes were shadowed, silent once more, but she still sat down with me.

"It wasn't your fault Autumn," she comforted me. "Everyone will find out in time, but it'll be okay."

"It was me who murdered half of LightRight," I said, my voice breaking. "It's because of me that we're out here right now, I'm the reason why we're probably going to die." I blinked to keep my tears at bay.

Diana wouldn't look at me. "It was my fault too. I put the candles too close to the wall." I wanted to tell her that she hadn't, that it was my shove that brought it closer, but my throat closed up. I knew it was so selfish, but I wanted her to feel some guilt too, for me to not be the only one suffering.

I opened my mouth to say something but closed it, afraid it would come out in a sob. Diana took one look at my face and sighed. "Just let it out," she ordered me. "Cry. Don't hold the tears back."

I shook my head, not wanting to be even more vulnerable than I had made myself. I felt stripped open to the bone, all of my fears laid down in front of me, and I hated the feeling but also welcomed the openness.

Diana helped me up and led me somewhere into the woods until we were out of sight from the cabin.

"Cry," she told me. "I'll leave, but it will help you. Crying releases endorphins, which are the same chemical found in chocolates and released when you're in love. It triggers happiness."

A small smile curved my lips as I heard her speak like she always did when she had an interesting fact to share, but it faded when I realized how empty it was. Because of you, a voice in my head screamed.

I didn't cry. It just felt too awkward. As if knowing what I meant, Diana walked away.

I stared after her as she walked away, her lean figure dark against the light mist. When she left, I sighed and rested against the trunk of a nearby tree, watching an ant struggle to make its way across the scattered stones. I twirled a twig in my fingers absentmindedly, catching it with a small "Oops!" when it slipped out of my grip and scratched me on my right index finger. I dropped the twig to the ground and squeezed the base of my finger, just to see if it would bleed. And it did, just a small bright bead of blood that I swiped with my other finger, where it stained.

I let out a small laugh at the irony that a drop of my blood already made a mark, while the drops of everyone else that I had grown up with would wither away with the ashes of their bones, leaving only marks on our hearts. I dropped my head into my hands, not even noticing or caring when a tear slipped through my eyelashes and splashed on my knees. I stayed like that for a while, crying silently as the world around me moved along. I kept sobbing until I had no more tears left, and Diana was right. The crying made me feel happier; emptier and more content. But in a way, I hated it. I did feel better, but I didn't deserve to. I wanted to cry and feel bad, but now I couldn't.

I forced myself to get up and walk back to the hill, following my footsteps. When I reached, I saw Diana writing in her journal with her favorite green pen. She looked up as I neared closer.

"Feel better?" She asked.

"A bit," I admitted. Even though I didn't exactly love it, I did feel... lighter.

Diana nodded and looked anywhere but at me. She began to stand up but then winced.

"What happened?"

"My hair got caught with the bark." Diana turned as if to look, but winced again.

I kneeled. "Here let me look." Diana leaned away from the tree as much as she could, and I saw that she was right. A couple of strands of her long hair had somehow entwined with the twisting bark.

"I'll need to take off the locket first," I told her, and when she nodded, I gently unclasped it, placed it on the ground next to me, and then detangled her hair.

I stepped back, pleased, but then stared at her.

Diana stood up and stretched. When she noticed me staring, she raised an eyebrow in question.

"Y-you're glowing." I stammered. Every inch of her, including her hair was caked in a gentle moon-like glow. The only thing that stayed the same was her gray-green eyes.

Diana looked at me like I was crazy, but she looked at her arm and her jaw fell open, not in shock, but rather in fear. Her chest rose up and down rapidly and she seemed frozen in place.

"Just a trick of the light?" Diana reasoned, her statement sounding more like a question. She looked like she was thinking hard.

I opened my mouth to argue, but she spoke first. "You should sleep. You're getting tired."

"What about you?" I asked, yawning.

"There has to be someone to keep watch," she said, sadly. I looked in the direction of her gaze to see that you could indeed see the flames still rising, coloring the clouds. "There could be a wildfire."

I tilted my head, not having even thought about that. I knew what I should've done was stay, but Diana also looked drained, as if she didn't have the energy to deal with anything, including me.

"Just go to sleep," she told me quietly. "You'll need it."

I was about to deny it, but as soon as my lips parted, a large yawn escaped. Hesitantly, I wished her a good night and made my way back to my 'bed'. The last thing I saw before slipping into a dreamless sleep was Diana, glowing like she was the moon herself.

(R/N: This is all I'm publishing for now, but let me know if I should publish the remaining chapters. Also, since I'm still writing this story, if people like this, I'll publish the current draft as well)