The Defiled Ch. 01-02

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Miranda had been trying to convince her father to cancel her party for weeks. She was sick thinking about having to dance and smile, and pretend she wanted this, that she was the demure young lady her parents made her pretend to be. She just wanted to run. So, she had. She had left before anyone had woken up to start the preparations. She had taken enough food and water to supply her for several days, and her machete and hip knife. She had also taken the bladed staff all the boys and herself were trained to use against the defiled. She had set out to the east. She knew of a settlement in that direction that the adults always spoke of in hushed whispers. They didn't follow the teachings that they had adapted to spare them from the defiled. Somehow they had survived. She knew that if she could find freedom anywhere, it would be there.

She had traveled for about 2 hours when she heard something in the swamp ahead of her. She had hidden in a hollowed out trunk and waited, since it seemed to be heading towards her. What she saw made her breath catch and her knees weak.

He was beautiful. He struck her dumb in a way that no boy ever had. He was blonde, and very tan. She could see this because he wasn't wearing a shirt. It was the first time she had seen a boy without a shirt on other than her brothers when they all used to go swimming in the pond at the edge of their settlement. It gave her a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was an ache in her secret place, and that was very unsettling to her. She had never felt it before. It left her feeling vulnerable and exposed.

As she watched, he continued to walk backwards while watching something in front of him. She could tell the noises she had heard hadn't come from him. He was almost silent as he made his way through the clearing in front of her. She couldn't see what he was looking at, but then she heard the rattle of its breath, and the moan that followed. Shortly after she realized what was following the boy, the defiled came to the edge of the clearing. It's bruised and dirty skin slightly yellowed in the sunlight. The bloodshot eyes latched onto the boy's every movement. Then she heard more sounds from the brush and swampland on that side of the clearing. She could pick out the movements of about 4 more defiled. She realized that maybe he was in trouble.

She debated whether or not to leave her hiding spot to help him. She was terrified at the thought of being alone with a male stranger, but he was badly outnumbered. He looked calm, almost like he was leading them along. She had to help him though. He might just be trying to stay calm to fight. She left the safety of the tree trunk, and he must have noticed her moving into the sunlight, because suddenly, their eyes were locked on one another, and it's like nothing else mattered. The world around them ceased to exist for one heart-stopping second. Still, he was moving backward, leading the defiled like a macabre pied piper. He was still staring at her and moving, when suddenly, he was flat on his back. He had tripped over an exposed tree root. The defiled wasted no time in seizing the opportunity this presented, and lurched forward to attack him.

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"Miranda!" She heard her mother's voice from inside the parlor, and resisted the urge to sigh. "What are you doing standing there daydreaming? You have yourself to get ready now, girl! Get upstairs and get dressed."

"Yes, Mama," she said softly. She was upset with herself anyway. She tried so hard not to think about that day. About him. Yet, in her quiet moments, she couldn't keep her mind from drifting back. To him. To amazing green eyes. To a day that made her even less content with her life here. She turned away from the veranda, and the steadily darkening sky, and headed upstairs. All she had to do was make it through tonight, and then she would figure out a way to get out of this place.