“Guys are you sure we should go this way?” asked Henry, thinking he seemed to be the only responsible one.
“Quit being a baby.” snapped Judith.
“You’re younger than me!” finally starting to follow them through the woods.
“Knock it off you two, we’re getting close.” Freya turned around to see how far they were behind, not too much, Bonnie at her own pace beside her, gripping her hand as usual. “They’re slow.” she whispered. Freya scoffed, “Too right they are!”
Amari glanced back as well “Hurry up both of you, it’s annoying how slow you are.”
Eventually they got to the small house amongst the trees; it wasn’t blocked off but no one bothered to go there- just abandoned without any damage or reason for that matter. Henry looked up at the small cottage “I was expecting something, you know, more.” Amari rolled his eyes “I never said it was going to look cool.” Freya side eyed him “That’s exactly what you said.” she matched his cocky grin.
Freya let go of Bonnie’s hand, the small 5 year old reached for Judith who was only 3 years older. Amari and Freya were both 14, making them the leaders of the group. Henry was always trying to do the right thing, but when you grow up like them there’s not much hope.
Freya and Amari both went first, finding the door locked they smashed through a window. Amari climbed in first and helped Freya through, making sure she wasn’t as stupid as him to not cut herself. “Not too bad.” she mused, looking around the kitchen. Amari wiped his hand on his shirt, staining the already worn clothes. He gestured to her to follow as he checked for squatters; “It’s just us.” he internally facepalmed at how that sounded. “Good, we don’t need another beating any time soon.” she joked casually.
They wandered around the bare rooms for about 30 seconds before they stopped in their tracks, “Bloody hell…” murmured Amari. There, dead at their feet, was an elderly man, they didn’t know him but it didn’t seem that anyone else did either. “Poor fella, just left here to rot.” Freya whispered, not taking her eyes off him. “Must be a heart attack, there’s no wounds and he looks at least 70.” Amari matched her tone, gently grazing her hand. “We should bury him, put him to rest, you know?”
