War Paint

Silent Night

Before confronting them, I study their manner and catch bits of their conversation. They don't seem to be doing anything alarming - they're probably just some soldiers who wanted to stay up to talk.

The only thing that concerns me though is that they look like they've been drinking, and some of the things they say -

"Hey!"

My body stills behind the covering of twigs, hoping that the man isn't talking to me.

"You! There's a girl out there. What are you doing here?" Shouts the mustached man of the three.

He gets up from his sitting position, pointing right at me.

I wince at being discovered, trying to appear as innocent as possible as I walk out of my hiding place. Head held high, I step into the middle of the clearing next to the fire so that they can see me clearly.

I hold my hands up, signaling that I am not a threat to Nation soldiers.

I'm completely harmless, see?

"Hello," I start. "Do you happen to know where -"

"Well look at you," drawls one of the men.

He is leaner and more muscular than the one who caught me, and the way that he looks at my body up and down gives me the shivers.

These men may not think that I am a spy, but that doesn't make them any less dangerous to me. I have had enough experience in Woodson to know that not all men respect women, so I have to be careful here.

I take a step back, away from the three men who flank each other intimidatingly.

The man from before is grinning ridiculously, most likely from the effects of the alcohol they've been drinking.

The same man continues. "What's a pretty young thing like you doing here?"

My heart pounds, and my mind races.

How do I get out of this situation?

I've only ever encountered a situation like this once before, but at least I was able to run away then.

If I ran now, I have no doubt these people will easily catch me.

I am not a trained soldier or runner.

Without waiting for my answer, the arrogant man walks over to me too close for my liking, and I take another step away with a bad feeling building in my stomach. He has some sort of tattoo covering his bicep, the black ink embedded into his skin.

"I'm looking for -"

My voice is cut off my the man laughing, right in front of my face.

And I stand there like a fool, in total confusion.

I can smell the stale vodka and liquor of his breath.

And cigarettes.

I feel dizzy.

What is he doing?

"Excuse me," I spit out, but he is not listening to me.

Instead, the man eyes the skin on my body not covered by my lightweight nightgown like a piece of meat. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling vulnerable, but it does nothing to cover me.

My eyes skitter around for the nearest escape route.

"Hey, David!" Exclaims the older mustached man to the tattooed one in front of me, his words slurred. "You've caught a pretty one!"