A loud roaring echoing through my ears is what I register first as I regain consciousness. It's awful, almost as if a plane is taking off right next to me with no care for the silly girl stuck on the damn runway. I wrinkle my face up at the sound, praying for it to stop as my head starts to spin.

The noise dims ever so slightly once I begin to focus on how dizzy I feel. My head drops forward, chin to my chest as I try to relax. However... I can't. For some reason, my body is held upright, forced to endure the uncomfortable posture.

My neck is sore, as stiff as the times I accidentally sleep in Zac's armpit, waking up with my head at a right angle. I can barely move it, but reluctantly force it upwards, groaning as my head finally reaches an upright position. Come on, Emilia.

Peeling my eyes open, I blink rapidly at the blurry images in front of me, a warm glow in the distance, dark shadows moving in front of it every so often.

The ringing in my ears is slowly diminishing, giving way to the sounds of the woodland at night, trees rustling in the breeze. I shiver as the cold air grazes past my face, grateful that I at least picked up my jacket before leaving Zac under the blanket and walking away to relieve myself.

I blink once more, the glow morphing into flickering orange flames roughly three metres away, a huge campfire with numerous people sitting around it, bathing in the warmth. I shiver once more at the sight, already pissed off at my situation.

I appear to be tied to the tree with rope, tightly with no way to turn or inch my hand up and untie any knots. Not that I can see any. They're probably around the back of the tall, thick tree.

Angling my head up, I stare past the empty branches, smiling at the sight of the moon up above and the little stars that twinkle around it. A sense of calm washes over me, just like it always does when I gaze at the night sky. As my dad used to say 'there's nothing quite like staring at an entire universe that exists beyond our irrelevant tiny world'. I always preferred to just think they were pretty twinkling lights to decorate the world like fairy lights in a bedroom.

If only I could dream that now.

The ropes that are digging into my sides leave nothing to the imagination, not allowing me to forget the predicament that I now find myself in. I can only imagine how crazy Zac is right now, no doubt yelling at everyone in sight. It makes me slightly nervous to think of him potentially arguing with Callum, the man who's built like a five hundred year old oak tree.

Not one Slayer is paying attention to me and I narrow my eyes at the numerous idiots, wondering which one it was who bashed me over the head as soon as I'd buttoned my trousers back up, ready to head back to Zac.

Why the fuck do they want me anyway? Why aren't I dead yet? And why the hell didn't they attack our entire camp? It's hardly like I went far.

This is so messed up, we knew the South was unsafe, yet only one day after we left the community, I'm in the fucking enemy's hands.

Maybe we should have just ignored the unstable England and stayed in the safe community in London. At least I wouldn't be in an inescapable trap right now, and Zac wouldn't be running off on some sort of Alpha male rampage.

I've got to get back to them.

Not one of the Slayers are looking my way as I struggle against the ropes, twisting my hands around and curling my fingers up in order to get a feel of the rope. It's a thick one, the knot definitely nowhere to be found. I curse under my breath, knowing that there's no chance for me to escape this without help. I'm stuck here.

Gritting my teeth, I rest my head back against the trunk of the tree once more, letting my eyes flit over the sky and take in the familiar constellations.

Help me, Dad.

*~*~*

Time passes ever so slowly, and I drift in and out of sleep for what feels like hours but may have only been minutes. Every now and again, the Slayers holler and laugh with each other over whatever the wild idiots talk about. Not one ever glances towards me, their long forgotten prisoner.

I can't help but wonder where Zac is and how far these twats actually took me.

"Grab her," I finally hear one of them say, my eyes widening as I look up to see two long haired, dirty looking men heading straight for me. I keep my mouth shut as one of them grabs hold of my shoulders, the other walking around, clearly undoing the knots on the rope.

The binds suddenly become slack and I almost fall forwards, the guy's grip on my shoulders stopping me. The other one grabs onto my left arm, causing me to hiss out in pain from the harsh fingers digging into my skin, practically straight through to my bone.

With men holding on from both sides, they begin to drag me closer to the campfire, every single one of the Slayers watching like I'm a fucking show pony. I fight against their hold and it clearly amuses the onlookers as I kick and wrestle against the strong, taller men.

Shoving me into the centre, they let go of me, leaving me to stumble almost headfirst into the fire. I manage to regain my footing, whirling back around and coming face to face with a smug looking, older man. I straighten up, keeping my feet in a defensive stance as I quickly scan around me, noting that no-one else is too near to us.

"I'm curious," the apparent leader says, stepping to the left slightly. I inch further away. "Where the hell you and your camp came from?" he continues and I say nothing as he steps back around me. "You weren't around these parts yesterday."

I see two other guys out of the corner of my eye, stepping closer to me. I keep my face clear of emotion as the leader raises his eyebrows. Underneath my ribcage, my heart is hammering fast, terror taking over my entire body.

"You want to play it like that?" the leader exclaims, quickly nodding at his two men. They quickly grab me and I attempt to fight against them, pulling my fist into my chest before shooting it out and trying to shove them away from me. The one on my left reacts by pulling his fist back, raining it down on my face within seconds.

My vision dances with stars and blurred lines as I almost fall down, held up only by their grip on my arms.

"Bit of a fighter then?" their leader mocks before another fist slams down onto the right side of my face. I spit out the blood in my mouth, desperately trying to ignore the pain throbbing through my entire face. "Get her fingernails," he orders.

My eyes widen as they grip onto my right hand, extending my little finger and pulling a small device out of his pocket. As he inches it closer to my nail I see that it's pliers and begin to viciously wrestle against them. A third Slayer steps up, a toothless woman who wraps her arms around my body to keep me still.

"No!" I finally scream. "No, please," I beg. The leader holds his hand up for them to stop. "We... we are just passing through."

"Where are you heading?"

"The wall," I reply, not even caring how much information I'm divulging. These Slayers won't make it five steps if I can help it. The leader steps back, laughing at my answer. The others soon join in, a complete and utter round of hysterical guffaws like I'm a damn comedy show.

The man holding my upper arm is laughing so hard that he bends over slightly, a silver glint hitting my eye. I subtly grin at the sight of the knife in his holster, letting my arm go limp for a few seconds before I grab onto it, wrapping my fist around it and hiding it behind me.

"The wall?" The leaders scoffs. "What the fuck do you think you'll find up by the wall?"

"We're going North," I reply, not even bothering to mince my words. "We're from there."

"As if." The guy beside me smirks. "Unless you were one of those idiots dumped here."

"No," I tell them. "I wasn't."

"Whatever." The leader waves his hand, turning away from me dismissively. "Have your way with the girl and then dispose of her. We'll attack their camp at sunrise," he instructs them. The idiots haul me up by my arms, dragging me backwards, into the woodland. The leader goes back to his cheering followers, and I look back as they jeer after their pals who are planning on raping me.

Fuck off. I will have no man but my husband, or I'll die trying.

As soon as we're out of sight, one of them shoves me forward, the other letting go as I fly forward, skidding along the ground in front of me. The blade in my hand cuts into my palm but I manage to keep hold of it, gritting my teeth from the slicing skin.

Come on, Emilia. You can do this.

One of them lays his hand on my shoulder, turning me back upright to face them. I keep my face blank once more, determined not to give them any satisfaction of knowing how truly scared I am.

"I guess she's still attractive with the black eyes," the one holding my shoulder says. The other nods before grabbing hold of the front of his trousers and pulling them open. I impatiently wait until they're both hovering over me, vomit rising in my throat as one grabs onto the buttons of my jeans.

I begin to writhe beneath them, the taller one leaning up to hold my shoulders down, just like I planned. Before he manages to get there, I quickly swipe up, tearing the knife across his throat. I'm showered in his blood as he splutters, the other guy quickly letting go of my trousers and making a move towards me.

Without hesitation, I jam the blade into the side of his neck before yanking it out and lifting my legs up, kicking against both of their bodies and leaving them bleeding out on the forest floor. I can feel their blood over my face and reach up, attempting to wipe it away with my sleeve.

I quickly skim my hands over both of their bodies, obtaining two more knives before I lean back against the tree, attempting to get my breath back. Both men are now dead, only their disgusting, lifeless eyes staring up at me.

"John? Rich?" a voice calls out. "Why isn't she screaming?"

I grit my teeth at their gross words, clutching the knife in my hand and crouching down behind the tree. Within seconds, two guys step out beside me and I quickly swing into action, slitting the throat of the guy closest. The other looks shocked and I quickly chuck the knife for the target, a short, but accurate throw that lands in his chest.

Four down. Who knows how many to go.

Reaching across, I pull the knife out of the dead man's chest. Taking one, last, deep breath, I weave in and out of the trees, circling their camp. Only six others appear to exist, every single one sitting on the same fallen log. They don't appear to have any weapons with them, and quickly scanning my eyes across the camp, I grin at the sight of a pile of what look like crossbows in the corner.

Crouching down, I inch back into the trees once more, slowly and steadily moving around the other side, towards the loaded weapons.

"What's taking them so long?" one of them suddenly exclaims. The leader shrugs.

"Go find out."

"Me?"

"What?" The leader scoffs. "Are you scared of a little girl?"

"N-no!" he stutters back and I smirk. You should be.

I reach out, grabbing the crossbow at the top of the pile and cocking it back as the guy traipses off towards the graveyard I've just created.

"Shit!" he yells. "They're dead!"

I don't hesitate when they all stand from the log, letting the arrow in the bow fly straight into one of their chests. Picking the knife next to me back up, I step back, angling my feet, before letting it fly through the air and hit the second guy in the chest.

By now, their camp is chaotic, every one of them flying towards the crossbows in front of me. Fumbling on the floor, I manage to grab hold of the second knife, slamming it into the woman just as she reaches me. She splutters up blood before collapsing.

I'm completely exposed, all three of the remaining Slayers running straight for me. Out of weapons and time, I quickly jump back, turning and diving straight into the moonlit forest. I have no idea which direction I'm heading, instead only moving as fast as I can, flying past the broken branches and feeling them tear at my skin.

My body is running on adrenaline, and I'm ridiculously thankful for how active I've been these last five months. Nottingham Emilia wouldn't have been able to last five minutes through this forest, yet I must be nearly at fifteen, the Slayers calls dimming with every passing minute.

I'm twisting and weaving through the trees, throwing them off my trail by alternating direction, yet not helping myself to find the people I actually need.

I stop for a thirty second break, breathing heavily against a tree as I lift the hem of my top, wiping it over my sore, blood covered face. Jesus, I bet I look like a right state. Absolutely hideous.

Forcing myself onwards, I switch into a jog, continuing through the woodland and letting the moonlight show me any trip hazards along the way.

The trees suddenly clear completely and I stop, mouth dropping open at the sight in front of me. What the fuck?

The wall is still twenty miles North from where Callum insisted we make camp, and there is absolutely no way that I've run that far. But if that's the case... then what kind of a monstrosity is in front of me?

I step forward, quickly realising that this wall is slightly different to the one that keeps each section separate. It still looks just as high, the electric wire reaching for the sky, but the concrete bottom is not as tall, leaving me with plenty of room to see through the metal bars to what's behind the fence. I keep walking forward, peering through the gaps as best I can.

My mouth drops open as I manage to make out the silhouette of a huge, historic mansion beyond the wall, almost every room lit up with what looks like electric lighting. With a lump in my throat, I step even closer, eyes narrowing as I try to make out the figures inside the windows.

I focus on one of the downstairs rooms, the curtains not drawn, numerous people talking inside. Someone suddenly turns around, towards the window. The familiar glint of an Enforcer uniform causing me to suck in a breath, falling three steps backwards.

They're in the fucking South.

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Ain't nobody taking our Emilia without a fight!!

But OH... Enforcers in the South! What are your thoughts?!

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