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Alyssa leaned against a thick tree, panting heavily. She shut her eyes tightly and fell to her knees. She leaned against the tree and felt something crawl across her hand. She looked down to see a small spider, no more than a centimeter wide, crawl across her hand. Alyssa released a blood-curdling shriek and flung her hand wildly, causing the spider to fly off. She rubbed her hand on the rough, thick bark of the tree to get any residual web to the point where her hand began to bleed. She looked down at the wound and buried her face in her hands, sobbing. She remembered the incident, the fire, the crazed ultrareligous humans… The spiders… Alyssa shook her head quickly, trying to forget the images that haunted and terrified her so. She stood up and held herself tightly, looking around. She saw the first glimmer of sunlight paint itself across the eastern edge of sky, beginning the day with magnificent shades of pink and orange. “They’ll be at their home by now…” Alyssa said to herself, aimlessly making her way through the thick forest. It was almost midnight when Alyssa finally sat down to rest.
(At Stash and Hub’s house)
“It’s midnight and she’s still not back yet.” Said Hub, peering through an old, dingy window. “Good riddance!” Stash said, leaning against the wall. “How can you say that? She’s only a little kid.” Hub said, appalled with Stash. “That’s not a kid, that’s a demon!”
”That’s racist!”
“How is that racist?”
“She is a demon!”
“… Oh…” Stash looked down at his feet, deep in thought.
(Somewhere in the woods)
Alyssa felt cold raindrops fall hard on her face. Her eyes fluttered open. “How long have I been asleep?” She asked herself, standing up. She held her hand above her head and her massive sword materialized, acting as a make-shift umbrella. She walked quickly and angrily through the forest. “I hate this place!” She shouted. “I hate the bugs, the rain, and most of all, I hate Stash!” She cried, then tripped over a tree root. She cursed and stood, allowing the sword to dissipate. “Screw it.” Alyssa said, trudging through the mud and the rain. Suddenly, she felt a hand close around her neck and slam her into a tree. She looked down to see a young boy, a few years older than her, glaring back up as he strangled the life out of her. He looked strongly familiar, but she couldn’t think straight. He had jet-black hair and unwavering blue eyes. His right eye was covered by a black eye-patch and underneath his left eye was a scar in the shape of an eye with a circle around it.



He wore black jeans and a plain, black t-shirt. All of a sudden Alyssa felt him release and slid to the ground. She knelt on the ground, coughing violently. Once Alyssa had regained her composure she looked up. It was Stash, a shovel gripped in one hand, thoroughly soaked from the rain. Tears came to Alyssa’s visible eye and she wrapped her arms around Stash’s waist, hugging him tightly, a tear sliding down her cheek. She noticed her attacker, crumpled at their feet. The back of his head was slightly bleeding and he was lying, unconscious and face-down, in the soft dirt. Alyssa knelt beside him and turned him over, then gasped when she recognized his face. “Constantine…” Alyssa said quietly. “Who’s that?” Stash asked, bending over to get a closer look. Alyssa looked up at him, sadness apparent in her eyes. “My brother.”