Running. To no end, I ran through a never-ending, twisting dark forest, ripping through thorns and leaping over bushes, archaic branches nipping at my heels. I did not know what I was running for; didn't know what motivated me so much to carry on in the choking blanket of night, each of my limbs weighing so heavily I slowed down, feet dragging in the dirt until I reached a clearing, fenced in by spiked spruce.

I needed a way out. I needed to find what I was looking for.

"Erika."
No. Not here. Ollie?"

He should have been at home, safe in bed at this hour with Diana in the next room. Not in this clearing. Not anywhere near me where I was a danger.

His blue eyes watered, tears streaming down his tanned, youthful face. He would never admit it, but he was terrified.

Kate was behind him, Horizon's Edge in her grip. Her smile was enough for me to break into a run.

My feet stuck to the ground. I reached out for my brother, but my arms were not long enough. I could feel my joints in my fingers cracking as I stretched, calling Ollie's name again and again as the witch drew her knife across my brother's throat.

My scream was enough to shatter the silence of the trees, and tears fell down as my brother's limp body dropped to the ground.

A whimper behind me made me turn.

It was the girl from the party — the dark haired girl that had died by the stairs. She stared beyond me, looking to the sky for any offering of light, only to find none.
"I was almost there..."

***

I woke draped in sweat. Ollie was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Kate, nor the girl from The Collector's party. I looked around the room; everyone was still asleep but Nathaniel. He had inched closer to Florence since I last looked at him, and she had her sleeping head resting in his lap. I couldn't help but scowl.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look like you had a bad dream."
I sighed at the guilt for glaring at him. "Yeah." I nodded and wiped my face. "Yeah, sorry, I did."
"What about?"
I barely knew the kid. I held back another frown. "It doesn't matter."
He straightened up. "You know, if you talk about them you can—"

"Morning." Alex groaned from his pillow. His face pressed so far into the fabric I wondered how he actually managed to breathe. "What's this about bad dreams?"
"Nothing," I replied. "Did you sleep okay?"
"Terrible, actually." He stretched out his arms, yawning. "Kept having weird nightmares."
I frowned. "You too?"
He mirrored me. "You too?"

I chewed on my dry lip. It was strange for two people next to each other to have nightmares at the same time — and an odd coincidence — but we were both under stress. Our families were all in danger and last night was hectic. We may have been facing our worst fears soon if we were to fail.

I woke up the others. Florence whined at me through the pillow while Alfie got up straight away. He didn't dare lag behind after last night.

After a swift breakfast of all the childishly chocolatey cereals in Leopold's cupboard that made my stomach churn and Alex's eyes light up, we packed up and set out on the road. Nathaniel wedged in the back between the twins, with Alex in the passenger seat beside me. The radio played quietly in the background for the hour-long journey it took while all of us kept silent for the majority of it, Alex only speaking to give me directions to Wyatt Martin's address.

I hadn't seen Wyatt in two years — his son, Pete, in seven months. It was stupid to hope, but I wondered if he still lived with his dad. Then again, I still did. Hunter's rarely bought homes until they started families of their own. It was hard to put down your own roots when it was so easy to work with your parents instead.

"Next left," Alex said.
I slowed down to turn. "I know."
"You know?" he frowned. "How many times have you been here?"
"A fair few. Dad saw Wyatt a couple of times on hunts so we worked together."
"Oh, so you came here with your dad?"
Not always. I lowered my brows as a warning to Florence's visible confusion in the back; it was not a topic I wanted to discuss with Alex — or anyone, really. "Yeah. Sometimes Wyatt would visit us, too."
Alex blinked, surprised. "I see. He should help us, then, if he still speaks to your dad."

If it wasn't too late.

The cabin looked exactly how it did a year ago: shielded by walnut trees and surrounded by a waist-high wooden fence Wyatt built for decoration rather than safety. Pete always told him to be more careful. 'We need wire, not wood!' he told his dad. Wyatt plainly replied with 'wire is ugly' and that was that. The two bickered constantly, but the love the father and son had for one another was unmatched by any other pair I'd seen.

With the group behind me, I knocked on the dark, wooden door. "Pete," I called. "Wyatt. It's Erika."

No answer. That was my cue to try the door. I didn't expect it to open so easily, however. I imagined I would be picking the lock or knocking it down but it swung open with a creak that sent my stomach to the floor.

It was a mess. Reminiscent of Alex's flat, papers had been scattered, glasses broken and furniture overturned. Considering how often I had visited this home, it felt like a personal violation.

"We're too late," said Florence. "They've found him."
"The witches have definitely been here," Nathaniel replied. He filed into the room behind me and folded his arms. "But what if they left in time?"
"A good question," I wondered.

We set out to investigate the cabin, glancing around for any signs of the hunters. A painting of a Pete's childhood cat Mittens had been knocked off the wall and split in half on the ground, making my face fall. I used to like that painting.

Pete's room was overturned. It hadn't changed since he was a teenager: ocean-blue quilt, the same dusty games console in the corner of the room, a dozen coats hanging on a metal rack and a collage of photographs on a pin board. I had a second look at the collection and realised I was in a couple of them. Still.

"Find anything?"
I tore my eyes away from the photographs as Alex followed me in. "Not yet."

I glanced back at the photographs once more. That boy better be alive.

Alex backed up in a circle. "They were looking for something. My flat wasn't torn up as much as this."
"Neither was the lodge I was staying in."

Maybe they had got away. The witches messed up the lodge and Alex's flat, but they had what they needed and were only looking for signs of other hunters. Basing it on a theory, I looked through a few of the open drawers — barely any clothes left.

Alfie called through the lodge. "Erika, I think they left. There aren't any phones or chargers here."
"Barely any clothes in this room, as well," I replied. "They must have gone." I tried to mask my sigh of relief.
"Then we need to get to them before the witches do." Nathaniel entered the room, followed by the twins.
"They'd be good allies to have," Alex added.
"But where do we look?" Nathaniel quizzed. "Depending on how much notice they had, they could be anywhere across the country by now."
"Or they could have left it," Alfie added.
Florence shook her head. "No, I don't think they'd leave. Not when they have friends in danger."
"But what other choice would they have? They're the last ones!"

The group rambled on while I went back to the pin board, noticing something strange. One of the photos was off. It was of myself and Pete, taken three — maybe four — years ago. It was a bad photo taken on a night I struggled to remember, but was put in the centre of the board, in front of all the others. Why put a blurred, bad photo of an old friend at the centre of an artistic collage of travel photos and family memories? It was in front of everything as well, as if just stuck on. But this photo was there years ago when I last visited the Martin's, slapped on the corner, while others behind it were brand new.

I yanked it off and turned it over, my jaw dropping.
"I know where they are."

The others turned, watching me clutch the photo, Alex and Nathaniel pondering my face in the picture. The symbol was staring right at me, bold in black permanent ink above a message:

'If you're still out there, find us

- Pete'

The symbol he drew was evident to all hunters, not just myself, because it had been branded onto our skin the day we fully committed ourselves to the cause.

"They've gone to the Order," I said. "They've gone to Oblivion's Watch."

A short chapter today, but I hope you liked it nonetheless. Thank you for reading, and don't forget to vote, comment and share if you enjoyed it.
— Caitlin x