Within

The moon was high and slightly moving to the west. The light of the moon bounced off the shallow puddles from the damp rain that came that day. All was silent, only noise was the famished owls looking for an insignificant rodent to feast on. Through the thickness of the consuming dark, hung a sleeping girl, high in an oak tree, the light gust daring to push her off.

The slumbering girl is Pyra Reeves, a small faced, brunette, curly haired girl, with heartfelt coffee eyes, attractive and fit and has a well-built body. Her garments is a tattered, filthy tarp-like dress, her feet are bare, revealing the blisters and sun kissed skin. She had a stolen book embracing it in her arms, it was a burgundy shade and the title was, ‘The Lost Book.’ It was quite ironic considering it was taken by her close friend Asin Quill.

The stolen book began to drop from her arms, thirty feet and hit the soft soil. As soon as the book escaped her limbs she woke up. Marvelous eyes snapping open, semi-bemused, half asleep, but she hastily climbed downward, quicker than most 16-year-old girls might do. She was this vigilant, because she had had been training for the Trials, something Rejects, like herself, could only reverie of partaking in. She has been coveting to prepare for the trials since she was the early age of six. Rejects were the powerless.

Rejects had no powers and were looked down on by The Powers and the Officials, they lived in ragged tents and often had no food. Pyra wanted to be the first victor of the Rejects to succeed in the Trials.

Pyra looked up at the timeworn tree, she myriad memories with her friends. The old oak tree was on the verge of the crowded forest next to the dirt path that led straight to a Reject tent village. Pyra saunters down the trail, ever since she was on firm ground, it had gotten windier and smelled like the prairie.

Once she could see the Reject village, she began to dart to it, not breaking a sweat as she got to her small tent, yet another stolen book from Asin laid in her tent.

Pyra recalled meeting young Asin when they were six, just like how she encountered Season Bush, his best friend. Asin had long, messy caramel hair, that was usually in clusters. His avocado colored eyes were an envy to everyone, although he detested his eyes. He had a handsome face and he knew it too. Asin would continuously flirt with innocent girls.

Season is her best friend, with thick, golden locks and ash-colored eyes and a light physique, bigger than Asin and he had a bashful sort of look about him. He didn’t like people touching him and typically had a sarcastic touch to his speech.

Wendy Blackrain was a dainty girl, who Asin labelled her as “effortlessly throwable.” (And behind her back, “too pretty.”) She had a petite figure with straight black hair, sea blue eyes, and a kiss of freckles on her small nose. She tended to make everything awkward, especially with the opposite sex.

Pyra picked up the indigo book titled, ‘The Venture.’ Thanks, Asin. She reflects sarcastically, Asin would do anything illegal for a good friend. They were all Rejects, basically anything they do is prohibited by The Official authority.

Pyra seals her weary eyes and gradually falls back to sleep.

Asin is in Pyra’s vision as he forcefully shakes her awake. His hair falling over his ovoid face, intense surges of filth hits the senses vigorously. Asin doesn’t get her clue to go away as he shakes her faster, causing him to get a severe kick in the stomach.

“Ouch! That hurt.” Asin groans, clasping his stomach. Bile touches the top of his throat, void on food.

“Go away!” Pyra snaps, madly. Visibly wanting to stay asleep, “I hate you.” Noticing she is passed going back to sleep now.

“You know you love me, now get up, we have to go to Powers town to trade some squirrel.” Asin clouts her on the back, friskily, she goes outside, feeling the blinding sun touch her skin. Season and Asin are fighting over a slice of bread, both hungry.

“Good morning, beautiful!” Wendy beams, hugging her. She had been hugging her more often, because of the forthcoming Trials.

“Morning.” Pyra smiles at the fresh day.

The trading was essential, called, ‘quiet trading,’ where the Officials didn’t have provide to for the Rejects. The Powers did and they weren’t the least bit pleased about it, so they made it problematical and decided that people could trade and not speak to one another.

“We could do a lot more things together if you wouldn’t be going off to the Trials,” Wendy says, with anticipation, “I mean how often do we get to do things alone together without the guys?” Season had prevailed in the bread battle.

“You’re like our one fourth Pyra, and we wouldn’t work without you.” Asin speaks, eavesdropping Wendy’s plea. Pyra squirms, uncomfortable about the stress building around her.

“C’mon, can you envision if I never saw you again?” Season asks, trying the guilt trip, “I’d die.” Season says, the bread already demolished.

“This is my decision; I’d like for my friends to have a little more confidence in me that I won’t die.” Pyra takes her woven bag, her deceased grandma made for her, and comes out of her tent and her friends continuing their plea.

“Decisions change, you know…” Wendy smirks, as the group ambles to the Powers bungalow village.

“Mine won’t.” Pyra decides, knowing her friends will never stop until she is gone. In a way, the pleas made her want to go even more. She felt if her friends didn’t believe in her, then she’d try her best to prove them wrong.

As soon as their feet touched Powers terrain, murmurs broke out of the gossipers and spectators. They could see in every vainful face the four of them were not welcome, but it was the only way to make a decent bargain.

Asin took the fresh squirrels he had hunted, out of his pocketed sack, and that’s when they saw them. Smith, Horde, and Jac, the tormenters Asin and Season endeavored to avoid at all cost. Smith was hairless, portly and revolting. Piercing icy, azure eyes and looked like a bulldog. His father was the Power mayor of the village and his power was what Asin called, ‘oven hands.’

Horde had a giraffe looking face and neck, with lanky arms and legs. His hair was blonde, and he had fat freckles on his face. His power was honed senses.

Jac had night black hair, he was the most attractive one out of the three, with a bulky build, a sturdy figure, and floppy hair. They were all cruel for no reason.

“Come to trade, have you?” Smith chortled, like what he was saying had enjoyment in his dialogue. Horde and Jac snorted along, shuffling closer with seconds.

“What do you gots for us today?” Horde says in inadequate English. He’s stupider than he looks, Pyra thought, casually.

“Gots something to trade?” Asin mocks, thinking out loud. Asin was almost as stupid as Horde, deriding his incorrect language. Regrettably, Horde had perceived his intentions.

“What are you trying to say?” Horde threatened.

“Do you have something to trade?” Season blunted sarcastically.

With a swift thrust, Season had the breath slammed out of him. Even quicker, Asin had a fist spiking Horde in his jaw, something the Rejects weren’t intended to do if a Power started a fist fight.

Pyra clutched Asin back as he desperately tried to escape her tight grip to take another swing. Pyras intents had failed and Asin was decked in his alluring face, causing blood vessels to surge and form purple bruises.

Wendy helped the struggling Season off the ground and to his feet as Asin delivered another blow to Horde’s head and Jac kicking Season in the ribs. Smith stood laughing, sneaking the squirrels out of Asin’s bag, the others distracted with the battle taking place.

“I got the squirrels!” Like magic Jac and Horde ran like it was all planned.

Grumpily Asin picked up his satchel, wanting to shout a couple of not so nice words, but Pyra’s calming expression made him stop. Season was given a hand by Pyra to get up, cut and bleeding, witnesses chuckling to themselves in sheer amusement.