Day: 4

I wake up the next morning with a sore back and chest. I look over at the other hammocks. Thomas is sitting in a hammock, while he shares with a snoring Lyle. Marcus is in a hammock a few feet above them, sleeping peaceful for a boy who seems so excited by violence. Max still hasn't come back from the medic tent yet, he's probably sleeping off whatever made him sick last night, and Johnny is gone, probably still conspiring with those dumb boys.

Apparently they have a plan to run away. Some other kid had done it before, so they think they can. That sounds like a load of garbage to me though. The only way off is through Pan Flute. I don't argue with Johnny though, whatever helps him sleep at night.

I leave the tent, the smell of it lingering on me. I need to find Pan Flute, get him to show me where the showers are, because I can't go on like this any longer. It's been four days since I last showered. Four! Which is too much for me.

It lingers on my skin, coating me in a wretched layer of dirt and sweat. I'm beginning to fit in here, at least as far as stench goes. The thought sends a shiver up my spine.

I walk towards the clearing. All of the boys are sitting around a long table. Their smell wafts over to me from far away and I almost gag. I need to take a shower, and these boys have to even more. I honestly believe I could get very sick, very fast.

I take a step backwards and bump into someone behind me.

"Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it to put eyes on the back of your head," the voice chuckles, "but then I realise you'd manage to bump into me anyhow, with that hat you always wear covering them up."

I turn around, looking at Pan Flute. "Maybe if you could look in front of you I wouldn't have to look behind me."

"What's the fun in that?" He asks. "Why should I try to keep you from hurting yourself? That should be your own job."

"Well obviously I'm not good at it." I counter.

"You don't seem to be good at much of anything." Pan Flute laughs.

"I'm good at plenty of things," I mutter. "Much more than anyone can say for you. Unless being stuck-up counts as a skill, which unfortunately it doesn't."

"Well it's your chance to prove yourself today during training." He grins, pushing past me. "And be warned, I'm not easily impressed."

I turn around to ask him what he means by training but he's gone. I sigh and walk over to the table. I spot Harry and sit down next to him.

"Why are you here?" Alex asks me.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the hammock," Harry laughs. "Don't worry about him, he's rude as can be when he wakes up."

"Better rude then a plunter." Alex spits.

"Why don't you guys just use actually curse words instead of this random garbage? It would make things a load easier for us News." I ask, wondering why the use of plunter is so rampant.

"Slang is the last thing News worry about. Spend the whole first day craping their pants like the plunters they are." Alex answers straight-faced. "Besides. You do realise slang changes over time, and that it would be weird to change it every few years when a New comes along with a different vocabulary then everyone else."

I stick my tongue out at Alex. I hate it when he has a point.

"You're just mad because your plunter brain can't think outside of you." Alex counters.

"Better a plunter then you." I insult, once again hoping I used the word right.

Alex doesn't argue, just smirks to himself like he's won. I've decided to make it my mission to learn all the slang here, just to spite Alex..

"Girls, girls, you're both pretty, now can we move on?" Harry asks. "We've got maybe ten minutes before training, and I'd rather spend it being calm."

"Training?" I ask.

"Training, it means to learn and practice a skill." He snaps.

"I know what the word means." I mutter bitterly.

"It's a thing we do where the News and the members of the hunt get together and work on fighting. I'm pretty sure we're working with swords today. Either that or bow and arrows." Harry offers.

"Who cares?" A voice asks from behind. "You'll all get beaten to a pulp anyway."

I turn around away from the table to see three boy from the Hunt.

"Kiki, Greggs, Sam, please stop talking. Your voices actually cause me pain." Alex says calmly. "It's like your voice is poison, and it's destroying my brain cells as you speak. And if I remember correctly, I beat you plunters last Hunt Greggs."

Gregory stiffens, but Keaton puts his hand up to silence him. "You'll have to excuse Gregory, he's a bit shaken since Lily got out of her cage. He doesn't mean any harm, do you Gregory?"

"No I don't," Gregory says, looking down at the ground, "sorry."

If there ever was a brown-noser, it was Gregory. Either that, or Kiki has a hold so stiffly on his balls that he barely has room to breathe.

"Anyway we're using swords today, helped Pan get them out of the tent this morning," Keaton straightens up.

"Congratulations, now if you don't mind we were in the middle of a conversation." Alex says, turning around to face the table again.

"Touchy, touchy," Keaton says softly. "Well, we had better get going, places to be, people to see you know. We'll see you during training, alright?"

With that, he walks away, his two lackeys following behind him in a trail.

"You know for someone who wants to stay away from them, you sure do engage them." I say to Alex.

"I'm not going to let them walk all over me. I'm not a snuff-nosed plunter." Alex replies.

"That's debatable," I chuckle. Alex stabs me with his eyes.

"Alright then boys," a voice yells. I look up to see Pan Flute standing on the table once more. I get the feeling this is how he makes all his announcements.

"Hunters follow me, its training day," he smiles, hopping off the table. "And will somebody go wake up the News?"

He begins to walk off into the forest. Slowly but surely, nearly half the boys at the table get up and follow him. I go towards the tent to grab the boys but Alex grabs my arm.

"Somebody else will get them," he says.

I yank my arm out of his grip muttering curse words under my breath. Who's he to be telling me what I can and can't do? I don't fight though, because why bother? It'll only make me more bitter, and if I'm going to ask Pan Flute about a shower I'd rather not be all wound up.

We wind through the forest for a few minutes until we reach a clearing. Along the side is a giant crate the boys are crowded around, shoving each other. Gregory is the first to emerge, holding three swords. He offers them to Keaton, who picks one. Samuel picks next and Gregory is stuck with what's left.

Suddenly Harry hands me a sword.

"Why did you get me a sword?" I ask.

"I was getting one, and I thought it would only be nice to get you one too." He answers.

"Don't you have your own personal sword? With a name like Flora or something?" I ask, remembering his knives.

"See, I wasn't exactly supposed to keep Gertrude and Judy. Only hunters are allowed their own weapons. Since I'm not technically a member yet, I can hide them in my hammock. I don't think I could quite fit a sword."

"Gertrude is the closest thing to a lady friend that Harry can get here." Alex chuckles.

"Oh snuff it will you?" Harry laughs back, winking at him.

Suddenly the clearing goes silent. I wasn't thinking about it consciously but everyone was talking around us. I turn to see Pan Flute sitting in a tree on the edge of the clearing. What a superiority complex this guy has got, I don't think I've seen him talk to someone without being high above them. It certainly doesn't help that he is pretty tall either.

"Chatty today aren't we?" He asks. "Let's see if we can put that energy to work. Now, let's start off with two people who have experience."

Keaton slowly saunters forward, the crowd breaking apart in front of him. "I'll do it."

"That you will." Pan smirks. "Would anybody challenge him?"

"I will," a voice rings out.

"Devin, I'm doing a demonstration. I actually need there to be a chance you can win." Pan mocks.

Boys start laughing. I can't see Devin through the crowd, but I can picture perfectly the look on his face, and probably the colour of it too.

"I will," another voice rings out. Johnny.

I nearly groan aloud. Johnny walks forward through the crowd, until he stands next to Keaton.

"You'll fight him? This will be a sight to see," Pan Flute chuckles. "Alright then, back up boys."

Everyone backs up and begins to form a circle around the two boys. They begin to cheer and shout pre-emptively; the fight has yet to begin. I look from Keaton to Johnny. Neither of the boys seem frightened at all. Keaton effortlessly swings his sword around himself in circles, almost like he's playing with a hula-hoop instead of a deadly weapon. Johnny however is shaking himself every few seconds, like he's warming up to compete in a race. Johnny has a huge smile on his face, and seems to almost be laughing, while Keaton is serious, looking at Johnny and thinking. Keaton's face grows a smirk.

"We don't have all day," Pan Flute laughs.

Johnny lifts the sword above his head and brings it crashing down towards Keaton's skull. Keaton easily swipes Johnny's leg out from underneath him, causing Johnny to tumble onto the ground. Keaton stands still as the boys cheer, smiling and shaking his fist in the air as he waits for Johnny to get up. Johnny slowly gets up. He takes a huge wind up with his sword and tries to swipe Keaton in the side, but Keaton simply ducks and swipes out Johnny's leg from beneath him again.

"He's trying to humiliate him," I shout to Harry, who is standing next to me. "He's not going to hurt him."

"That's Keaton's style," he shouts back. I can barely here him over the audience. "He's all about his image, and his personal protection. The two in fact are very closely intertwined."

Once he's up again, Johnny charges at Keaton with his sword, ready to impale him on it. Keaton just dodges the hit, then hits Johnny with the butt of his sword as he passes, causing him to fall again. Keaton turns his back to Johnny, once again relishing in the crowds cheers. Johnny kneels and begins to stand up, but instead tackles Keaton from the back of his knees.

Keaton goes crashing down on his chest, throwing the sword a foot away in order to protect his face from the ground. Johnny immediately straddles himself on top of Keaton and reaches for Keaton's sword. Keaton kick Johnny in the back with his foot, knocking Johnny off of him. Keaton dashes over to Johnny's sword. He picks it up and spins it around himself a few times, presumably to get the weight of the sword.

Johnny picks up Keaton's sword and makes a slashing motion in front of him. He nicks himself in the leg, only grazing the side of his thigh. Keaton takes the opportunity to charge at Johnny. Using the blade he knocks his own sword out of Johnny's hand and raises Johnny's blade up to Johnny's own neck. Johnny seems pretty taken aback by this, but the crowd is in uproar.

Pan Flute jumps down to the center. He grabs Keaton's hand, sword and all, and raise it to the sky. The boys continue to cheer, as if nothing more amazing has happened in their entire lives.

"Settle down now boys," Pan Flute calmly says. Everyone immediately goes silent.

"Congratulations Keaton," Pan Flute remains straight-faced. "You did a great job of winning by default."

"By default?" Gregory challenges. Keaton raises his hand at Gregory, to shut him up.

"Well yes, if Keaton had been competing against anyone who posed any threat at all he would have lost." Pan Flute continues. "There are a few rules of fighting, which all of you should know by now. Keaton broke the most basic rule."

"Never turn your back on an enemy," the boy named Devin shouts out.

"That's right Devin, congratulations on actually knowing something for once." Pan Flute's voice is filled with sarcasm. "Never turn your back on an enemy. Not to run away, not to perform, not to do a movement, and especially not to boast."

"Now, what was Johnny's biggest problem?" Pan Flute asks.

"He doesn't know how to use a sword?" Alex says under his breath.

"That's right Alex," Pan Flute begins. "Would you like to say that louder?"

"He's got no clue how to use a sword." Alex speaks up. "He was making big heavy movements with it, like it was a club. Luckily his sword was heavy, so he could. Keaton's sword was much lighter; Johnny didn't know how to balance it properly. Nicked himself in the leg because of it."

"That brings us to the next rule," Pan Flute says. "Know your weapon. More importantly, know your opponent's weapon. Your weapon dictates what force and moves you can and can't do. Your opponent's weapon tells you what moves you should and shouldn't do. Don't pick up your opponents weapon to fight, because now it's your weapon, and you've got no idea how to use it."

Pan Flute steps back and looks over the crowd. "Quit standing around now, practice," he shouts, and suddenly he is gone.

Alex is the first to move, raising his sword striking it against Harry's. Harry laughs and they begin to fight back and forth, as the boys around me riot.

Someone strikes a blow towards me, as I duck through the crowd. I suddenly wish I was much, much shorter than I am.

Marcus charges at me with his sword, obviously having no idea how to use it. I dodge the blow and hit him in the back with the hilt of the sword as he moves past me, like Keaton did. He falls on the ground behind me, quickly getting up and charging at me.

My arms shake as I aim my blade towards the hilt sticking out for decoration. I try to shake it out of his hand, but end up just cutting his knuckles.

He shouts and drops his sword, cradling his bleeding hand. I kick him over, knocking him on to his back. I grab his sword off the ground and raise it at him. He looks up at me scowling. I drop his sword down, it lands in the dirt beside him.

I look down at him in shock, before looking back up at the crowd. Pan Flute is nowhere to be found; and for once I wish he was around to keep the peace. The boys are fighting amongst each other, mostly fighting one on one, but a few teaming up on each other. Alex and Harry seem to be having fun, almost like they are dancing with each other as oppose to dancing with death.

It's chaos, filled with screams and crashes and blood.

And I just attacked someone.

I turn around and run through the forest.

My sword in hand as I crash through the dense vegetation. It collides with trees causing me to spin in circles as I make a mad dash for anywhere but here. Anywhere but this God forsaken island filled with God forsaken boys spilling their own blood as if it they were merely painting the ground with it.

I suddenly break out of the forest on to a beach. I stop running as I wheeze, and collapse on to the ground, dropping my sword. My head hurts and my mouth tastes of metal. I get on all fours as I begin to gag on the beach, vomiting. I can't tell if I'm sick because of the blood of others, the blood rushing to my own head, or the lack of air in my lungs, and I'm not sure if it really matters why anyways.

I shakily stand up, slowly making my way towards the water. I'm so hot, so very hot. My hands move to unbutton my cloak, but they tremble too much. I fall on to the ground, attempting to kick off my shoes without avail.

I grab them with my shaky hands, ripping them off. My socks go next, into the boots. I run into the water, without bothering to roll up my pants. I keep running until the water is too deep for me to run without falling over. It's just above my knees, but there are no waves.

My heart begins to calm, as I breathe in and out slowly.

"Get out of there," A voice calls out.

I turn around quickly, stumbling in the water. There's no one behind me.

"Enough of your games Pan Flute." I shout, adjusting my cap, making sure no hair is out. "That's all this is to you, a game right?"

I step closer to the shore, looking around for him.

"Come out from wherever you are, I'm not having this." I announce as I step foot on the sand.

I get no answer, just the wind whistling down through the trees and past me, out on to the open sea.

This is odd behaviour from Pan Flute. From all I've seen is that he's the gloating type, the type to come down to the beach and take me back to training and make an example of me for running away. He's not the type to hide out in the trees. Maybe he's not here at all, maybe I'm just going insane.

I take one last look and slowly turn around, kicking my feet through the water.

"Stop," a voice yells out.

I turn around this time. The voice is not Pan Flute's. It doesn't seem to be anyone's now that I'm thinking about it. It sounds scared. Very scared, almost as if it's screaming to me, begging me. It sounds distorted, as if I'm listening to it from in water.

I look around, trying to see anyone through the trees. I step back up on to the beach as I try to catch even a glimpse of the boy who's calling out to me.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

No one answers. No one answers, because there is no one to answer, because there isn't anybody there. The voice is being created by my own mind. I put my hand on my head as I feel around for a temperature. My head feels very hot. I'm ill, not crazy. I'm having some form of hallucinations, caused by heat stroke or stress or shock or something. I need to cool down.

I step back into the water, hoping to cool down just a little bit more. Suddenly I feel arms around my, ripping me out of the air and throwing me a few feet behind them on the shore.

I hit the ground and roll backwards a few feet, the sheer force sending me tumbling through the sand. I look up from my position on the dirt, to see who grabbed me. There's no one there. I stand up shakily, looking around. I run a few feet over to my sword and pick it up, holding it in front of me as I spin in circles.

Someone is here. I'm not hallucinating being thrown about, right?

I stick the sword forward again, refusing to relax my guard. I look at the sword and spot blood along it. I throw it down to the ground, backing up.

I look around for the body. I killed someone, oh God I killed someone.

There is no body. I look down on the knife, there's more blood on it then I could've gotten from Marcus' knuckles, right? There's no way he bled by the hilt of the blade. I lean down closer over the blade, as I see a drop of blood fall down on the blade.

I look up for the source, but there is nothing above me except the grey sky. I look back down at the blade, catching a glimpse of myself. I shakily reach my hand up to my own temple, and I realise the blood is mine.

~~~~

So there's that. Charlie is either a drama queen or a coward, and I don't know which one I think is funnier. Don't always trust her judgement, she's often blinded by her own emotions. The whole point of her existence is to be super flawed. Stupid yet cunning, unreasonable yet adapting, stubborn yet dedicated. Essentially, she's a pain in the ass but one who is in the right.

If you love her like I do, or you hate her, let me know. Your feedback is always appreciated.

As always, keep doing you, and I'll see you Wednesday.