The soldiers are marching again, with the heavy sound of drums quick to follow.
Everyone in the town who knows what is coming stays silent and tries to hide, praying that they won't stop here, in Woodson.
And it's every week now that they pick a new...
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The next morning, I wake up uncomfortably from the base of the tent floor.
The Maulie base was hesitant to give us supplies because they were already running low, but they were generous enough to give us a tent. And by a tent I mean one.
This is why, when I slowly open my eyes to see three other people snoring softly in their own corners of the tent, it isn't much of a surprise.
To my right, Kade is splayed out with his arms crossed under his head, drooling a little bit. And to my right, Adeline is holding Andres in her arms as closely as she did yesterday.
Never letting go of her brother for anything.
I notice that she has a tendency to cling to things in her sleep, which is sort of adorable if I think about it. Although, she would probably murder me if I said something like that out loud.
So because I am the first one awake, I take advantage of the ability to stare at her without someone calling me out on it for a minute, before quietly slipping outside.
From the color of the sky, I can tell that it is still really early in the morning, but if I'm already awake I know I won't be able to fall back asleep. Is it five, six o'clock in the morning?
Back in Addison Town, I would be waking up now, tending to my horses and fertilizing crops on my father's farm.
I stretch my muscles out and sit on the natural lawn, yawning as I think over what has happened in the past few days.
I'd never thought I'd say this, but I am homesick.
Being drafted surely isn't the best thing that could have happened to me, but when I left my home back in Addison where nothing mattered anymore I thought I would be more happy.
Of course, I was wrong.
I sigh. Speaking with Adeline yesterday about her mother certainly stirred up a lot of my memories. I should just forget about it, but around the time that I turned nine, the horror of my mother's burial led to the sequence of events that made me into who I am today.
Yes, there was an external war starting, but there was also an internal one. The lack of resources persisted even back then, which left me to finish school early and find a way to make a living.
We were happy - I remember what having a happy family felt like. While the sun set, I would come home from working on the farm, and would then spend my nights reading and writing. But when my mother passed, my father changed for the worse.
He used to tell me that I was useless, and then would beat the crap out of me. His mood swings were a result to the relief his new alcohol addiction brought him. There is a difference between tough love that a father gives you, and what my father gave me. If it were up to him we could have starved and it wouldn't matter.
