Raiders, I thought to myself.
"No," I whispered to myself. "Not like this. I don't want to die like this." But what choice do I have over it?
To be honest the raiders scared the living daylights out of me. But who would I admit it to? No one. Who did I have to admit it to?
Again, no one.
Where is my family? Where have they gone?
That stupid panther had made us all more afraid. It made me wonder what it was running from. Was it running from a bigger force? Or was it more like me, running away from its past that it was so afraid of?
Of course, it would be the former. Why would an animal run away from something it did before? It wouldn't. Because it has nothing to fear.
Unlike us. Who fear everything--the hot, the cold, the storms, the animals, each other. Being alone for so long can make you suspicious of anything. Or anyone.
You blame your neighbor for stealing tomatoes from your (former) mother's garden. You blame your sister for taking the moth-eaten blankets on a stormy night. You blame your best friend of being a spy for the rival country.
Shouldn't the adults be back by now? I think to myself. My mother said a few weeks. A month or two at the most. It's been years.
Here, in Bellum Vox, time is something we always keep track of.