'No one has ever seen them. No one knows if they are real. No one has ever survived one of their attacks. No one ever will.' One of the things you learn in warrior training is don't look back, cause if you lose site of them your dead. They are reincarnations of murderers, psychopaths. You only see them for a second then you're dead, that's why we don't have a description for them, they are unknown to the human eye. But I see them every night, drawing; painting; printing down every single detail I see. Making the invisible, visible. I'm the human race's only chance to win this impossible war, but the human race wont let me fight, and they're losing to shadows. (c) Copyright - Mountain Ash 2014


1. 22 May 2017


​You can't tell if they've found you. You can't hear their footsteps, you can't listen out for their heart beats, because they are shadows. Their story is legend in the new world: The Hunters. The only thing the human race knows about them? They're messengers of death. The paranoia of being found, this is just the first fight in a long war. Being forced to live a life of poverty, clinging onto the rich memories of the past. Memories where everything was calm, peaceful. Now The Hunters, are terrorising every country, killing thousands just to get to--. That's what we don't know. What they are looking for, what there motive is. 

But I know. I know what they are doing, what The Hunters are hunting for. I know what they look like, sound like, feel like. How? Vivid, nightmares. They come randomly, showing me the deaths of thousands, destruction of cities, and the struggle of pain. I can't stop it, I don't know how, but they are coming and there is nothing I can do to stop them. 




The gash on Vince's chest was a window into his organs and ribs. He currently was lying on a metal table with several doctors and nurses stitching up the wound. I had to watch as 'experience' of what warriors saw when they went out to look for survivors. Of course society's view of a woman being a warrior had been set back to the last century. Now woman have to look after the children, cook the meals and mend the warriors armer. I didn't want to cook or sew. I wanted to fight, protect our community from The Hunters. But thank's to my gender, I had to watch my little brother (who was as useless as a leaf) train with swords twice his size. My god-father says he's a joke to the community. But law is law: the men must become the warriors, the woman must become the leaves.

"Are sure you're feeling okay, Vea?" Donovan asked from the door way of the surgery. 

"Fine," I turned to look at him, "Why'd you ask?"

My question seem to make Donovan's jaw clench: "It's just that,"-

"I'm a girl and you expect me to faint at the slightest drop of blood?" 

"No it's just,"-

"Just what Donovan?" I was smiling. 

He sighed then started to laugh.

"How do you do that?"He smiled

"Do what," I batted my eyelashes at him, then looked back to Vince. 

By now his 'scar' was sewn up and the doctors where taking off the latex gloves and throwing them in the bin. Vince himself was still out cold, every now and then his chest rose and fell to show he was still alive. When the room was empty, I walked towards Vince scanning the scar and sighing at the same time.

"How'd it happen?" I questioned Donovan. 

"Jaspers community attacked us when we were trying to find any survivors in the attack," 

Jaspers community. You could say our enemy, but that would be to far fetched. The Hunters were our enemy, Jasper's just another obstacle in the way to getting more survivors safe and sound. Most of the time he's trying to declare war against us, but we have a bigger army he would be crushed. So he just sticks to ambushing our watcher's and seeing how many young men he can kill. 

I sighed: "This needs to stop." 

​"How are we going to stop it?" Donovan asked, "He's the one who needs to stop, not us." 

I sighed again: "We could talk to him, seek reason?" 

"Talk to him?" Donovan sounded almost discussed at the idea: "My father's already talked to him, all Jasper did was spit in his face." 

"Okay, okay! No need to get emotional Nova, I was just suggesting,"-- 

"Suggesting what, Viviana? To invite our enemy into our home? Letting him destroy our walls?" 

I clenched my fists and bit my tongue. One of our laws were you weren't aloud to insult a commander, especially if you're a woman. But the law seemed to slip my mind and in the end I snapped: "The Hunters are our enemy not other communities! You need to get over this stupid rivalry and worry about the real enemy!" 

Donovan's face seemed to melt into a shocked picture. I instantly knew what was going to happen next: my mother and father lecturing me about the concept of manners. Then there was my god-father, who would probably laugh but still scold me in front of Donovan. 

He opened his mouth to probably insult me and my family, but the low whistle of a groan escaped Vince's lips, evaporating his anger and causing both of us to look down at him.

"Would you two shut up?" A low whisper came out of him as he slowly smiled.

Both me and Donovan looked at him. I was the first one to start laughing. In the end everyone was: laughing. It was our way of allowing fear to slip past our alarms and sew it's self into us for the future. In Vince's case, that fear burned into his mind. He'd been out in the empty streets of no where and got ambushed by Jasper's warriors. That fear of being alone will stay with him for the rest of his life. And no one would ever be able to get ride of it. 

That was the danger of being a warrior: fear. The constant reminder that The Hunters could jump out on you at any second. That Jasper's community could ambush you as you carefully stepped over the dead rotting body's of the hunted. One thing I know for sure, if I was a warrior? I'd know if they were there and if it was the hunters or Jasper's runts.  

But I'll never get the chance to be a warrior. I'll never get the chance to protect the community, save thousands of lives, help the world fix itself. I'm just another woman who needs to be protected. 


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