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      "Della," the voice snapped me from my sleep quickly. I throw the dark patchy blanket off of my body and stare into Nion's eyes. His rose colored lips peel into a smile. "It's delivery day," he says through his smile and runs out of my room. I quickly throw on dark colored cargo pants from off of the floor. the ratty gray shirt i was wearing will do. I slip into my brown pair of boots with buckles down the sides. they come up to just over my ankles. I rush out the door and am blinded by sunlight. After a few seconds my eyes adjusted. The wood buildings around me are all too familiar. across the dirt path is a particularly broken down shack. I skipped across the path to knock on the door.

"Edda!" I shouted into one of the windows. my fist pounds onto the door once more. a loud crash shakes the shack before small footstep sounds lead up to the door. the door swings open. behind it is edda. Edda is 89 years old and 4'11. She is wearing a torn brown dress and no shoes. her black fluffy curls have gray showing through. she hasn't touched them up today.

"It's delivery day," I smiled at her. she rolls her eyes and walks away from the door, leaving it open for me.

"Give me a minute," she scoffs. I waited behind the door. After a few more loud crashing sounds she reappears in a slightly less torn dress. It is a pale pink with white flowers. She now has brown boots that go up to her ankles, similar to mine but with less buckles. she stomps past me, out the door. I reach into the house and pull the door shut and carefully follow behind Edda. She is quite fast for her age. She says hello to people along the dirt path but most don't say it back. They are much too guarded. edda doesn't mind or even seem to notice. She marches down the path with such confidence. A couple yards ahead there is an armored black truck parked in the middle of the path. on each side stands a line of people, all waiting for food. Ever since the rebellion a few years ago what was left of our government decided that all food needed to be rationed. With reunification day so soon, our government struggled to contain the news of a rebellion in one of the regions. So the people of Illmor were silenced and forced to forget about the people we lost. So, every week this terrifying truck shows up and gives each family barely enough food for a few days. Making this food last has driven everyone crazy. People around here look at a slice of bread like they would kill for it, probably because they would. If you disobey or do something to the command that they view as unruly then they will withhold your delivery. This was one of the driving forces behind the revolt in Illmor. Yet even after unnecessary violence, nothing has changed. Around the truck are tall soldiers, all at least over six feet. They have thick gray armor covering every inch of their bodies, even their gloves look to be armored. in their hands are weapons. I'm not quite sure what they are but some fire red beams and others fire grenades like things that can blow a human body to pieces in seconds.

In the side of the armored truck there is a window that has a counter type thing that has black metal boxes with small metal handles on the top. In the window one of the soldiers hands boxes down to people with little care, almost hitting the civilians waiting for their food. I picked up the box and handed it to the father who was waiting for it. he shuffles his two daughters out of the line. "Next," the soldier handing the boxes shouts. The next family scoots up.

"We have to get you to the back of the line,'' I whispered to Edda and she shooed me away. "I got it," she spits. she waddles away and I giggle. I searched the crowd to find my sisters. I see a head of fiery red hair slip through the crowd and roll my eyes. I follow the streak of red and find the owner of the hair peeling something shiny out of a man's pocket. I grabbed her hand.

"Evanna," I spit. she spins to look at me. I dragged her to the back of the line in silence. She says nothing, knowing that I am angry. She quickly loops her red hair into a braid.