The Cold Forest

PART TWO

Sonia crept forward stealthily. The bee (a large furry black animal which is killed for food, its fur and its horns. It is not related to the honey or bumble bees and does not sting in case you were wondering), was nearly in range. She aimed her gun carefully.
 Sonia had been born and spent the early years of her life in Beton, a small town in the warm regions, but her father had disappeared when she was ten and her mother had died the next year, no one knew why. One day Sonia had gone to the beach with her mother. She had run off to collect shells for half an hour leaving her mother sitting on the sand. When Sonia returned her mother was dead. Sonia was taken in by The Government, an organisation for looking after homeless children.

One day Sonia was out walking with her caretaker when a car careered down the street and came to a screeching halt just in front of the pair. A hand holding a gun came out and shot the caretaker. The car doors opened. Two black figures emerged, seized Sonia and buzzed her so she became unconscious. When she awoke she was lying on a black leather sofa in a dark smoky room. A strange man with a beard and a black leather jacket was watching her. He said his name was Mirabell and he would be training her to be part of their group. When the actual training began, Sonia caused so much trouble that they left her in the Cold Forest with nothing but a knife, a gun and the promise that they would return when they thought she was ready. That had been three years ago, when she was fourteen.

A stick cracked in the bushes and the bee bolted. Sonia fired after it but missed. She sprang up angrily, broke off a branch of fire tree and beat the rocks around her in frustration. It gave her satisfaction to see the branch in her hand blaze up in orange flame for a few seconds. When the branch was spent of its fire she snapped it and kicked it as far as she could in the direction the bee had gone. She was about to start throwing dirt after it too when out from the bushes on her right came five people: two men, two women and a small boy about three years old. The two women gasped upon seeing her and leapt back. The men looked startled and the boy hid behind the elder woman's skirt.

Sonia stared at them silently, still holding her hands full of dirt. Something told her she should speak to these people but she had not spoken to anyone for so long that she was a bit unsure of herself.

“Who... who are you?” she said slowly, her heart pounding.

The lighter haired man who seemed to be the leader said, equally unsurely, “We're... on the long march to...” he swallowed, “the hidden city.” Sonia gave him a puzzled look.

“Will you let us pass?” said the other man nervously.

“We're looking for a place to spend the night.” said the first man, “Could you give us directions?”

Sonia shook her head slowly.

“Oh.” he turned away. Sonia took a deep breath.

“You... can stay... with me.”

The younger lighter haired woman sighed in relief as her companions' faces lit up. Sonia rose and picked up her gun from where she had dropped it.

“This way.” She slipped silently through the foliage in the direction of her cave-hut where she occasionally slept, prepared food and made her clothes. As the others followed they spoke to each other in low voices. It was dark by the time they reached the small building so they had a light meal and put the boy, Connal, to bed. Then they sat around the fire, talking. Their names were Ralf, Angele, Lana and Jermaine.