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>☆<
Quiet.
It was as if a thick, invisible blanket had descended upon the Glade, muffling every sound.
Suddenly the unconscious girl's fist shot into the air, pointing toward the sky. Looking closely, Elisabeth could clearly see the piece of paper clutched in her hand. With shaking fingers Newt pulled her fingers apart, grabbing the paper. He unfolded it, then dropped to his knees after reading the thick black letters scrawled across it.
SHE'S THE LAST ONE. EVER.
-
For the rest of the day Elisabeth busied herself in the kitchens, trying not to think about the girl. Part of her felt relieved as she wasn't the only girl in the Glade anymore.
By afternoon the Glade had gone back to business. Any signs of a mad girl bearing notes that promised their doom had disappeared.
Elisabeth had just gotten out of the kitchen to get some fresh air when she noticed Thomas staring down a beetle blade. She caught a gleam of red light sweeping the ground in front of the mechanical bug as if it came from it's eyes. Then without a word Thomas sprinted after the scurrying beetle. Not having anything else to do Elisabeth followed the curious Greenie.
She couldn't believe how quickly the light had disappeared. The little bit of sunlight that was left winked at her through the canopy of leaves. The beetle blade led them deeper and deeper into the forest, it's red light growing brighter as the surroundings darkened. Her feet carried her quickly through the forest, dodging trees and branches.
Thomas came to a halt in front of several graves that littered the area. He jerked his head at her direction as a twig snapped under her feet.
"It's just me," she said holding up her hands. Another snap came from her left, this time louder, almost like someone had broken a stick over their knee. "Well, that definitely wasn't me."
"Who's there?" Thomas yelled out, his voice bounced off the trees around them, echoing through the air.
But no one answered his call. Nor did they hear any more sounds from that direction. Elisabeth took a few steps back and pulled up short. She was standing right beside a clumsily prepared wooden cross poking through the dirt. A shiver ran down her back as she realised she was standing beside someone's grave. Hesitantly, she knelt down to read the name written on the cross.
George
He must've been one of the first to die, because his grave looked the oldest.
