The Revenge of Seven: HIDDEN POV's

6

Six's POV
(From Book)

This morning, we returned to the swamp. The trees are thick on both sides of the murky water and we frequently have to slow down to navigate around gnarled but ambitious roots that have spread into the water. The canopy of branches over our heads is dense, letting sunlight through in patches. Rotten logs drift by, their bark not always distinguishable from the craggy scales of the alligators roaming these waters. At least the bugs have stopped biting me. Or maybe I've just gotten used to them.

Marina stands at the front of the boat, her gaze straight ahead, moisture from the air dampening her face and hair. I stare at her back, wondering if she's lost it, or if this sixth sense about Eight's body is another new Legacy manifesting. It's at times like these we could really use a Cêpan; Marina's having a hell of a time controlling her freezing Legacy. Nine and I haven't brought it up with her – he's probably scared she'll bite his head off, and I'm just counting on her learning to control it at the same time she gets a grip on all that anger. So either this return to the swamp is happening because of a potentially haywire new Legacy, old-fashioned intuition, grief or legitimate contact with the spirit world. Maybe a combination of all four.

It doesn't matter, really. We're doing this.

It was only a few days ago that Five led us through waters similar to these. We'd been happier then – I remember Marina and Eight clinging to each other, something sparking there, and Nine whooping and acting stupid every time he spotted an alligator. I run a hand through my hair – it's damp from the humidity and knotted from the days spent out here – and remind myself that this is no time for reminiscing. We're heading into danger, but at least this time we know it.

Nine's POV

"How much farther?" Six asks Dale. I've been wondering the same thing. This hot climate is killing me. My shirt sticks to my skin and the stupid mosquitoes are back.
Dale shrugs. "'Bout an hour," He's been drinking from a flask the entire trip.
"You better not be screwing with us,' Six warns him. " If this is bullshit, we'll leave you out here."

That makes Dale sit up a little straighter. "I swear it's true, ma'am. I saw some weird-ass aliens out here. You bet."

After dumping buckets of water over the side of the boat, I snatch the flask from Dale.
"What've you got in here, anyway?" I ask him as I sniff the bottle."Smells like paint thinner."
"I mean, it ain't all painter thinner. Try some."
I roll my eyes and hand the flask back to him. I've about had enough of Dale's nonsense.
I lean towards Six and lower my voice, hoping Marina wont hear."Seriously? We're relying on this guy?"
"Not just him," Six answers, then glances at Marina. "She senses something."

"Since when does she . . .?" I start, then decide against it. "It still seems a little nuts to me, Six. That's all."

I know better than to rely on Marina's emotional connections. Marina waves her hand at us, getting our attention.

"Cut the engine!" She hisses.