The Feral Sentence- Complete Box Set

by Shade Owens

  I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. Why had Holland given her life? I hadn’t seen her standing behind Hammer when the Norther’s ax came down, but as Hammer had told us, she’d jumped behind her and caught the blow.

  Why would someone do such a thing? Was it grief? Regret? Was she so disgusted with what she’d done—with being the reason hundreds of women had died in our Village—that she’d wanted to die herself?

  Holland had lost everything. Not only had she done something atrocious, but she’d lost her sister despite having been promised by the Northers that they wouldn’t harm her so long as Holland did as she was told.

  Obviously, the Northers couldn’t be trusted with their promises.

  I thought of the pain she must have experienced when they took her life. Had the ax killed her in one blow? Or had it landed on her spine, immobilizing her instantly? Was she even dead? Or was she lying in a pool of blood, paralyzed? Did the Northers check their victims for breathing, or did they let them sit there to die?

  Where was Tegan in all of this? And Sumi? Were they okay? I hadn’t seen them. What about the Hunters, my friends? What was I supposed to do now? They needed to be warned.

  God, why couldn’t I stop thinking?

  Horrible nausea sank to the bottom of my stomach. I knew there was nothing I could do about Zsasz and the Cove, and I also knew what was in store for us tomorrow. The Northers, the Beasts, would force us to clean up the bodies—to drag them away from the city’s perimeter.

  Maybe that alone was our punishment.

  Because tomorrow, women would start finding their friends.

  Would they all turn on me?

  Or would they bow their heads and continue with their lives of slavery? No way were any of them going to try to stand up to the Northers—not anymore.

  I sucked in moist air and let it out slowly.

  Fall asleep.

  Fall asleep.

  Fall asleep.

  It was no use. I’d probably wake up entirely unrested with aching muscles and a migraine.

  A few feet away, a pained moan suddenly filled the sleeping area. The sound was immediately followed by someone snapping, “Shut up!”

  Jordan, I thought. I didn’t know the woman on a personal level, but over the last few hours, I’d heard her name passed from mouth to mouth. When I finally caught a glimpse of her, I knew who it was because her ankle had swelled up to three times its size, which is how everyone was describing her. Only one woman stood by her side to help her hop on her one good leg, and undoubtedly, this same woman now was sitting at her side, wiping the sweat away from her forehead.

  It wouldn’t be long, I knew, before she took her last breath. She must have been bitten by a snake during our attempt to run. Was this woman going to die because of me? Because I’d foolishly inspired her—along with dozens of women who were no longer alive—to run?

  I clenched my teeth and stared straight up into the blackness of the night.

  I wished I could talk to my mom, even if only for a minute. Maybe she’d snap me out of this and make me realize that I was in way over my head. Yet even if given the opportunity, I’d never be able to face my mom again—not after everything I’d done.

  I was a murderer, a cold-blooded killer. And for what? For survival?

  Another sound caught my attention. It wasn’t Jordan’s moan or her friend telling her everything was going to be okay. It was the sound of something lurking nearby, a soft crunching in the jungle leaves outside our sleeping area.

  It wasn’t one of the guards either. Their footsteps were far brisker, almost carelessly so, like their brains weren’t advanced enough to understand that even though we were their slaves, we were also human beings who required sleep.

  Either that or they didn’t give a rat’s ass about how we felt, which was more likely.

  With eyes wide open, I turned my head toward the sound and sat up in my hammock. Though it was dark, my eyes had adjusted enough for me to see the lightness of the hammocks, some skin tones, and the silhouettes of bodies lying about.

  I looked past all of that and into the dense trees that formed a wall at the edge of our sleeping area.

  Maybe the Hunters had come back as they’d said they would. My heart picked up in pace, and I started picturing Rocket bolting out from the forest and finding me without much effort.

  But Rocket never came out.

  Instead, a loud scream cracked through the air and the dreamlike image of the Hunters dashing forward heroically disappeared in an instant.

  I jumped to my feet with clenched fists, feeling someone’s arm crush under my heel. It was too dark—I couldn’t see who I’d stepped on. Another scream filled the air around us, and this time, it was followed by a deep rumble, by the growl of what I could only assume was a large wildcat.

  What I noticed first, however, were the women sitting up, the silhouettes of their arms reaching their cocked heads, as they slowly stood. No one in our sleeping area appeared to be in immediate danger.

  If they were confused, where was the sound coming from?

  “Attoola!” someone on the outside shouted. I knew by the incomprehensible word and by the hoarseness of their voice that they weren’t one of us—they were one of the Northers—and they were under attack.

  Women started shuffling in every direction as if waiting to be guided by a shepherd. Some rushed closer to the forest’s perimeter to observe what was going on, and others backed away from it, not wanting any part in the attack.

  Another growl filled the air, though it sounded more like a wall crumbling—incredibly loud and grumbly.

  “What’s going on?” a woman shouted.

  “I don’t know!”

  “They’re under attack!”

  “Who is?” came a tired voice, and though I didn’t know who’d said that, I envied her for having fallen into such a deep sleep.

  “The Beasts!”

  “It’s a cat!”

  “A wild animal!”

  Both fear and excitement filled the air as warm bodies crashed into each other. Someone’s sweaty skin slapped my shoulder, but when I turned around, no one was there. Everyone was moving about so quickly that a ball of anxiety formed in my stomach. If I hadn’t heard the growl for myself, I’d have assumed that we were the ones under attack.

  “Brone!”

  It was Coin’s voice.

  “Yo, Brone,” she continued. “You okay?”

  “I’m okay,” I said.

  Hammer’s shape came into view. She stood only a few feet away from me, and I was able to make out the shape of her nose, her eyes, and her mouth. Next, Quinn, Arenas, and Johnson squished their way through the jittery women to stand with us.

  “What’s going on?” Hammer asked.

  “Sounded like an animal attack,” I said, and as the words came out, arrows whistled in the distance. No doubt, other Northers were trying to stop the attack.

  “You guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Quinn asked, and right as she said that, it was as if I’d been gifted with mind reading; I knew what she was thinking, and I was thinking the same thing.

  In fact, everyone was—I could see it on their faces.

  This was our chance. We had to try.

  “If we run in that direction,” I said, pointing west of the noise, “we should miss the guard who ran to help the other one. There should be a gap there.”

  Brief nods were exchanged as if I’d announced our attack strategy for some playoff game. This was all happening too fast, but we didn’t have time to waste.

  “You guys sure you want—” I tried, but a loud trumpetlike sound blasted from behind the city’s gates, and torches suddenly lit up, creating a bright orange glow over the wooden pikes. The gates were shot open, and out came a handful of Northers with spears and clubs at their sides.

  “Now!” Quinn hissed, and without a second thought, we all bolted together, cutting through the crowd of clueless women.

  And although it was safer for us
to run, only the few of us, I couldn’t leave the others behind—not after what had happened. What kind of a person would I have been to take advantage of an opportunity without sharing this opportunity with those I’d failed?

  A coward and a heartless bitch.

  “Run!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

  At first, silence filled the air and only our footsteps continued to smack against the forest floor. But within seconds, dozens upon dozens of women shouted back—not at me, but with me. The ground beneath us started to tremble as hundreds of bodies stormed away from the sleeping grounds and ran into the darkness of the jungle.

  CHAPTER 3

  It all felt like a dream.

  It wasn’t at all what you’d have expected from female prisoners running from their captors. After the first few minutes, the shouting stopped entirely, and all we could hear behind us were rapid footsteps and heavy breathing. It was already difficult enough trying to be quiet in the dead of night; we didn’t need women shouting or talking over one another to attract the Northers.

  We ran for hours, some women falling behind, some crashing into the ground unable to see, and others choosing to take a different path.

  “No!” someone hissed.

  Though I couldn’t see who had spoken, I turned around in time to see her reach out into the forest as if trying to stop someone from leaving. This woman took a step forward, obviously contemplating chasing after her friend, but then several other women held her back.

  I understood it, too. Our group, the large group, would be hunted by the Northers any moment now. It made sense for someone to want to try their own route. The Northers would follow our traces through the jungle’s muddy floor, and once they reached us, they’d massacre as many women as possible.

  Maybe the strays stood a better chance than we did.

  Maybe splitting up wasn’t such a bad idea.

  Our running turned into more of a slow jog and voices filled the air.

  “I… I c-can’t,” someone said, gasping.

  “Me… neither.”

  Some breathing turned into whistling, and women began leaning forward with hands on their knees to either catch their breaths or prepare themselves to vomit.

  How far had we gone? My legs burned, almost to the point of being numb. I wasn’t used to this anymore. My stomach roiled from dehydration, hunger, and fatigue.

  But none of that mattered. These women were relying on me. I wouldn’t let feeling like shit get in the way of that.

  “B-Brone,” Coin said, and she swallowed so hard I heard her throat stick. “We can’t stop, man. They’ll be comin’ after us.”

  “I know,” I said, “but we can’t force these women to run, either. Most of them have been living a life without any form of exercise for years. They probably feel like they’re dying right now.”

  Coin’s face was so close to mine that I saw a contemplative frown form on it. Her black skin suddenly lightened to a dark brown, and the shape of her lips came into view. I craned my neck back and stared into the overhead trees, where the starlit sky also began to lighten in color.

  Morning was coming.

  How long had we been running?

  * * *

  “Jesus Christ, Brone, hurry it up!”

  I glared back at Mr. Torchman and his disgusting jog pants. His name suited him—he reminded me of someone who liked to light stuff on fire simply for the pleasure of it. He rested a hairy hand on his waist and played with the whistle wrapped around his neck. It looked like he was getting ready to grab it and whistle at me for the heck of it.

  What a prick, I thought.

  Sure, I wasn’t the fastest kid in school, but that was no reason to treat me like crap. Fred Aspenson came jogging behind me, kicking little pieces of rocks at the back of my heels. He wasn’t doing it on purpose; he was having such a hard time that his feet kept smacking into the ground with every step he took—so much so that the rolls around his belly jiggled. Fred was the chubbiest kid in class, and although everyone made fun of him for different reasons, not only for his weight, he never stopped trying to do better.

  I admired him for that.

  And then, as if out of a high school movie (with the music of triumph playing in the background), Fred appeared beside me, and I heard the sound of his arm skin flapping against his sides.

  He didn’t look at me—he stared straight ahead, his cheeks bright red, mouth wide open, and nose running.

  “Come on, Brone!” Mr. Torchman shouted with his gruff, overly masculine voice.

  Though the words didn’t come out, I knew what he was trying to say: You’re going to let someone like Fred beat you, are you?

  He was such a prick.

  I looked straight ahead at the finish line. It was an ugly white banner wrapped around the soccer net’s metal frame, and everyone else in my class was standing around it. Some were watching Fred and me, the last two on the racetrack, but most were spread out on the grass, drinking water and chatting away.

  I glanced at Fred one more time, and although the idea of the slowest kid in class beating me should have been enough to give me one final boost to the finish line, I didn’t use this boost.

  I could have sped things up a bit, at least enough to beat him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The poor kid was trying so hard, and he deserved to win. Well, to not come in last place.

  So I kept my steady pace and watched as he stomped his way toward the finish line, letting out loud bark-like sounds every last step he took. And when he finally reached the finish line, he threw both hands into the air and let out a victory cry, even though no one seemed to care. A few teens rolled their eyes and walked farther away from him, but Fred was happier than I’d ever seen him.

  At that moment, I didn’t care that I’d be made fun of for being the slowest kid in class.

  It was worth it.

  * * *

  This wasn’t a gym class, and I wasn’t fifteen anymore.

  I watched the women as they spat out chunks of mucus and rubbed their legs, their big eyes aimed up at me, almost pleadingly. What did they want from me? For me to tell them it was okay to take a break? It wasn’t. This wasn’t some practice race. Wild and incredibly dangerous women were hunting us.

  All I’d ever done in life was put the needs of others before mine. If I’d learned anything from Kormace Island, it was that every woman was responsible for her own well-being. In the end, you had to watch out for yourself, and I sure as hell wouldn’t risk my life to stay behind with those who couldn’t move forward.

  Did that make me a bad leader? Maybe. But I didn’t care. This was about survival and nothing more. I didn’t even know these women. I didn’t owe them anything. The Hunters, however, were my friends—my family—and I’d do pretty much anything to make sure they were safe.

  “For those of you who can’t keep going,” I said, “I suggest you find someplace to hide.”

  I received a few hateful glares and wide-open mouths.

  “Why the fuck should anyone be listenin’ to you?” someone shouted. “My best friend died because of your stupid plan!”

  The sun had risen even farther, and a cool mist licked our ankles. I could see everyone’s faces perfectly now, and the one who’d spoken, a middle-aged woman with an acne-scarred face, stared at me like she wanted to tear my eyes out with her fingers.

  Coin, acting as my protector, stepped forward with her chest puffed out, but I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and shook my head. “I got this,” I said.

  I took a step forward and elevated myself on a large flat rock. “I’m sorry about your friend,” I said, and an uproar shook the forest trees.

  “Bullshit!” the woman shouted.

  “I suggest you all listen,” I shouted. “I’m only apologizing once!”

  The women suddenly went quiet. I wasn’t sure whether it was due to my red face, my hoarse voice, or my aggressive posture, but they suddenly seemed curious to hear what I had to say.


  “I really am sorry for the lives that were lost.” And before the grumbling around me turned to another uproar, I added, “but this isn’t black and white. This is fucking war. Those Beasts back there have held you prisoners for how long?” I stared wide-eyed at each one of them. “You were all being treated like shit, forced to cook for them, clean for them, and suffer for them. If you’re standing here right now, you wanted to run. You aren’t some mindless sheep. You had enough of the life you were living, and you were willing to risk it for a better one.”

  A heavy silence filled the air, and watery eyes remained glued to mine. I’d never seen so much suffering before. These women had been beaten, starved, and tortured in more ways than imaginable, yet here they were, fighting for a way out.

  “You’re here because you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” I said. “What happened back there was a tragedy…” I turned to Quinn, who refused to make eye contact. She stared at the moist soil with her fingers wrapped around each other. “I didn’t plan for the Beasts to be waiting for us. They received insider information. That’s the only reason they were ready.”

  Panicked whispering suddenly erupted around me, and women began searching from around them as if trying to pinpoint who was responsible for the massacre.

  “I don’t yet know who it was,” I said, “but I swear to God that when I find them, they’ll pay for what they’ve done.”

  One woman suddenly cheered raising a balled fist into the air, and the others followed suit.

  “You can either follow me to safety,” I said, “or, you can do whatever you want. You aren’t prisoners anymore. You’re free women. So you decide for yourself.”

  I turned away and hopped off the rock as chatter erupted behind me.

  “Let’s keep moving,” I said.

  CHAPTER 4

  “How far is this place?” Quinn asked, her eyes darting between the hundred or so women behind us and me.