Hurrying down the steps, I cradle a loaf of bread, freshly made. Glancing back, I see three heavily-armoured guards chasing me. I can't lose this loaf of bread. Springing up onto a window ledge, I find myself face to face with a chestnut hair boy with dazzling, teal eyes. Grabbing my hand, we jump together onto the roof tops of houses. The village people were like ants up here. The guards below don't see a thing. Finally, we make it to the outskirts of the town. Stumbling into a red-roofed building, I gulp down a glass of water. Behind me, Mama sits in her rocking chair, humming a tune that she probably made up.

"So Noah," I begin. "How's Mama?"

To make this straight, Noah (the boy) and I are not brothers and sisters. Our parents were really close friends and after Noah's parents died, we took him in. Shortly after, Papa died and Mama was grief-stricken. Ever since, Mama has been unable to speak, sitting in her rocking chair, her body here but her soul somewhere else.

"Scar, you know what I'm going to say," sighs Noah. "She's only been staring at the wall and at your Papa's picture."

Snapping the loaf of bread in thirds, I thrust him a piece and gently lie the other on Mama's lap. Without even noticing I was there, she fumbles with the bread and pops it all in her mouth. That's when I hear it. The procession. Stupid me. I forgot about it. Every year each town has to spare a child to go alone into the forest. I don't know what the purpose of it is. The forest doesn't have a name. It is just called "The Forest." All the time, families pray that their children won't be sent away from them. I'm fifteen, still the right age to be sent into the forest. Together, Noah and I trudge to the town hall. It is a blistering day, sweltering rays of sunlight glaring down. Then comes the familiar voice.

"Hello my fellow people of Hemling," booms the Mayor. "Today is the sad day where one of our children will have to follow the tradition. We have picked one person. And this person is.....

Scarlett