The Last of Arrows

A New Mark is Born

              The three men stared at me with strange expressions. Wanver already came back from outside and dealing with his son. George still hadn't said anything since I finished explaining my plans. Bo placed his fingertips on the table.

"So, let me get this straight. You believe that we should open trade, make our own Mark, and advertise?" He asked. George scoffed, seeming to grow out of his amazement. "We're creating a war, savage, not doing a bloody banquet." I grinded my teeth.

          "My name is Zaila, not savage. You little weasel twit." I growled. George rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. "See what I mean?" He said with a sigh. Esmeralda stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"What she means is, there are children out there, elders, and families. Do you really want to endanger all the people who are following you? Trade will be a good thing, the food in Polis is running out. Your people will have to learn how to trade one way or another." Esmeralda explained in rapid words.

         She continued. "Plus, a new Mark wouldn't be so bad. It would let the other people know who we are and that we're not cowering under some city ruins." She said. Wavner leaned forward, chin sitting on top of his fist.

"You just said 'we'. Why?" He questioned. I glanced at Esmeralda. She inhaled deeply. "We are both standing here by our free will aren't we? We're trying to help you so we can become one of you." She said. I nodded.

           Donald inclined his head. "And why would we accept you? What do you have to offer?" He asked not in a malicious way, but in a genuinely curious way. I spoke up. "I could offer my hunting and survival skills to teach the rebels how to hunt, gather useful herbs, and how to use weaponry." I said.

Wavner lifted a brow, a small smile tugging his lips. The three of them turned to Esmeralda. "I can offer repairing skills of technology. This place could use some of that." Esmeralda muttered the last sentence.

Wavner nodded. "I agree. Let them come as they are. We didn't interrogate the others." He pointed out.

                     George waved at us. "Leave us be to discuss." He said. Wavner frowned. "There's nothing to discuss." He grumbled. Yet George still seemed like he held some power over the three of the them. Donald gave George an exasperated look.

     Bo nodded at the Elite. "Wait here while we discuss," the rebel leader told me. I nodded, tugging Esmeralda's arm as we both walked right out the door. As I closed it, she pressed an ear to the door.

I leaned against the wall, not bothering to listen to them. My eyes landed on the floor, thoughts cramming my head. What would happen if the Rebels actually became a community? Would the government shoot them down?

              I gripped my own arm. Would I become a Rebel if the leaders let me in? I shuddered at the thought. Though wrongly treated for being one, I was in love with being a Nomad. Being a Nomad meant not being bound to any expectations.

       Esmeralda glanced at me. "I think we are going to stay." She whispered. I shrugged. "Even if they didn't want us to become Rebels, I would still stay and live here." I told her. Esmeralda thought it through for a couple of seconds.

"You're right," she whispered. I shook my head. Why was she whispering? My eyes snapped over to the door as a loud laugh rang from behind the doors. Esmeralda made a face. "What was that about?" She asked, even though we both knew no one knew for sure.

                      I didn't answer, just continued staring blankly at the door. I didn't know whether to be distraught or joyful about the whole situation. Being a Rebel? If I left Polis's walls someone might just kill me because of the Mark on my arm and—