One morning, the camp was alive with activity, but the usual hum of productivity was tinged with an undercurrent of tension. Richard's enforcers moved through the crowd, their presence a constant reminder of the control they wielded. But today, there was something different—a defiance that hadn't been there before.
Lily moved through the camp, her ears tuned to the conversations around her. She stopped near a group of survivors who were sorting supplies, their voices low but urgent.
"Did you hear about Marcus?" one of them asked, his tone hushed. "He refused to go on the hunting party yesterday. Said he was tired of risking his neck for scraps."
"What happened to him?" another voice pressed.
"They took him to the edge of the camp. Said he needed to 'reconsider his priorities.' He came back, but… he's not the same."
Lily lingered nearby, her expression neutral but her mind racing. This was their opening. She stepped closer, "Sounds like he's not the only one who feels that way."
The group turned to her, their expressions wary but curious. "What do you mean?" one of them asked.
Lily shrugged, keeping her tone casual. "Just saying, we all survived the wish event. We didn't do that by following orders. We did it by sticking together, by looking out for each other."
The survivors exchanged glances, nodding in agreement.
---
Victor found his opportunity later that day, near the edge of the camp where the work crews were building new houses. A group of men and women laboured under the watchful eyes of Richard's enforcers, their movements slow and deliberate.
Victor approached one of the workers, a burly man with exhaustion etched into his face. "Long day?"
The man grunted, wiping sweat from his brow. "Every day's a long day around here."
Victor nodded, his gaze flicking towards the enforcers. "Some people have it easier than others though."
The man followed his gaze, his expression darkening. "You're not wrong. But what can we do about it?"
Victor leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Maybe nothing. Or maybe… we start asking why some people get to give orders whilst the rest of us break our backs."
The man hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Maybe."
---
Maria knew she was taking a risk, but she couldn't stand by and do nothing. She found a group of women near the water station, their faces drawn with fatigue. They were talking in low voices, their words laced with frustration.
"I just want to see my kids," one of them said, her voice breaking. "But they won't let me near them. Says it's for their safety, but…"
Maria stepped forward, her heart aching. "I know how you feel. My children are here too. And I'm not going to let anyone keep them from me."
The women turned to her, their expressions a mix of hope and fear. "What can we do?" one of them asked.
Maria's voice was steady. "We stick together. We look out for each other. We remind Richard that we're survivors and we deserve better."
---
By nightfall, the camp was buzzing with quiet defiance. The seeds of rebellion had been planted, and they were beginning to take root.
Richard's enforcers moved through the crowd, their presence more pronounced than ever, but the survivors no longer cowered under their gaze. Instead, they exchanged knowing glances, their resolve hardening with each passing moment.
The group gathered around the fire, their expressions tense but determined. "It's working," Lily said quietly.
Victor nodded. "Let's keep fanning the flames, just don't get caught in the fire."
Maria's jaw tightened. "And when the time comes, we'll be ready."
The night stretched on, the stars above cold and distant. Somewhere in the camp, the first sparks of rebellion were beginning to burn.
---
The morning sun rose over the camp, casting long shadows across the makeshift shelters and workstations. But the usual rhythm of the day was disrupted. The seeds of rebellion, planted the night before, were already beginning to sprout.
Victor noticed it first. As he made his way towards the supply depot, he saw a group of workers standing idle near the water station.
One of Richard's enforcers was barking orders, his voice sharp and impatient, but the workers didn't move. They exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of defiance and uncertainty.
Victor lingered nearby, watching as the enforcer's frustration grew. "I said get back to work!" the man snapped, his hand resting on the hilt of his weapon.
One of the workers, a wiry man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward. "We've been at it since dawn. We need a break."
The enforcer's eyes narrowed. "You'll take a break when I say you can."
The scarred man crossed his arms, his jaw set. "Or what? You'll make us work harder?"
The tension in the air was palpable. Victor stepped in. "Everyone's on edge. Maybe a short break would help."
The enforcer shot him a glare, but Victor held his ground. After a tense moment, the enforcer relented. "Fine. Ten minutes. But if I see anyone slacking off after that, there'll be consequences."
As the enforcer stalked away, the workers exchanged relieved glances. The scarred man nodded at Victor. "Thanks."
Victor shrugged. "Just looking out for each other."
---
Lily walked around the food distribution area. A line of survivors had formed, waiting patiently for their rations, but the mood was sombre. Richard's enforcers stood nearby, their eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of trouble.
One of the survivors, a young woman with a baby in her arms, stepped forward to receive her portion. The enforcer in charge glanced at her, then at the child. "Half rations for you," he said curtly. "The kid doesn't need much."
The woman's eyes widened. "But… she's breastfeeding. I need the food to—"
"Half rations," the enforcer repeated.
Lily stepped forward. "We're all in this together. Shouldn't we be looking out for each other?"
The enforcer turned to her, his expression hardening. "This isn't a charity. You get what you're given."
The woman hesitated, then squared her shoulders. "I'm not leaving until I get what I need."
The line behind her stirred, murmurs of agreement rippling through the crowd. The enforcer's hand twitched towards his weapon, but he hesitated, sensing the growing unrest.
Lily stepped closer. "You really want to start something here? Over a few extra rations?"
The enforcer glanced at the crowd, then at Lily. After a tense moment, he relented, shoving a full portion into the woman's hands. "Take it and go. But don't think this'll happen again."
The woman nodded, her relief evident, and hurried away. The line behind her shifted, the survivors exchanging glances.
---
Maria didn't sleep that night. She paced the edges of the firelight, eyes locked on the guard towers. By dawn, she had a plan—and it started with finding the truth.
She found an older woman who worked in the kitchens and had once served meals to the children's quarters. Her voice was cracked with wear, but she spoke plainly. "I saw them. A boy with curls and another always asking questions. That sound like yours?"
Maria's breath caught, her knees nearly gave out, but she held herself together by force alone. "They're okay?"
The woman gave a slow, sad nod. "Locked away with the others. Richard doesn't let the mothers near 'em. Says it makes things complicated."
Maria's heart twisted. "He has them. He has my kids."
She didn't waste time. Within the hour, she had gathered a dozen women—some she knew by name, others she'd only seen crying quietly into the sleeves of worn shirts.
All of them had lost children to Richard's order. She stood in the centre of the group. "We go together. Not as beggars. As mothers. If he wants to control everything, let him try to stop all of us."
They marched in a tight line towards the northern edge of the camp, where the children were kept. Heads turned as they passed—workers paused, guards stiffened, whispers followed them like smoke.
At the gate stood two enforcers. One of them stepped forward, trying to appear casual, but Maria could see the unease in his eyes. "You're not allowed here. This area's restricted."
"We're not here to cause trouble," Maria said, stepping forward. "We're here to see our children."
The enforcer laughed, but it sounded strained. "Orders are orders. Turn around."
One of the other women spoke up, her voice cracking. "My daughter is six. She has nightmares when I'm not there. I just want to hold her for five minutes."
Another added, "You think we'll be quiet forever? You think we'll just take this?"
The crowd behind Maria swelled as other survivors noticed the standoff. They didn't speak, but their presence shifted the air—more eyes, more pressure. Maria stepped closer. "You don't want to be the man who denies a mother her children in front of the whole camp."
The enforcer's fingers tapped against his makeshift axe, uncertain. His partner shifted uneasily. Finally, the first guard stepped back, gesturing towards the inner gate. "You've got five minutes. That's it."
Maria didn't wait.
She rushed through the gate, the other mothers following behind like a flood breaking loose. Inside, the room was little more than a storage room for kids. Beds lined the walls, children sitting in stunned silence, their play dulled by days of forced separation.
Her heart stuttered.
Two small forms sat in the far corner—one with tangled curls, the other with a familiar stubborn pout. Isaac. Noah.
"Mum?" Isaac's voice was barely a whisper. Then louder—hope cracking through his chest. "Mum!"
Maria dropped to her knees as they ran to her. Isaac threw his arms around her neck, and Noah crashed into her side with a sob. She held them both, her arms trembling as she kissed their heads again and again.
"I'm here," she whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm here."
Isaac clutched her shirt with both fists. "We thought you were gone. Richard said you didn't want to see us anymore."
Maria's hands froze. "He said what?"
Noah buried his face into her chest. "He said it was safer if we didn't see anyone."
Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot and silent. "Don't believe anything he says. You're my boys. I never stopped looking for you."
Around her, the room filled with similar scenes—children reuniting with their mothers, voices raised in disbelief and joy. A few guards lingered at the edges, watching with unreadable expressions. But none stepped in.
Maria pulled her boys tighter. Her determination only grew stronger—she wouldn't allow this to continue. She would protect them no matter what.
Once the time was up, the mothers left unhappily, not wanting to get in any real trouble.
---
The camp was alive with whispers, the air thick with tension. Richard's enforcers moved through the crowd with a newfound wariness, their usual confidence replaced by unease. The seeds of rebellion had taken root, and the first signs of defiance were beginning to bloom.
Richard sat in his tent, his expression calm but his mind racing. Reports had been coming in all morning—workers refusing orders, rations being distributed unevenly, enforcers being challenged at every turn. It was subtle, but it was there. And Richard knew better than to ignore the signs.
Elena entered the tent, her expression grim. "It's getting worse," she said quietly. "The enforcers are losing control. People are starting to push back."
Richard leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "And the group? What are they doing?"
Elena hesitated. "They've been… quiet. But they're always there, watching and listening. I think they're behind this."
Richard's eyes narrowed. "You think, or you know?"
"I don't have proof," Elena admitted. "But it's too convenient. The timing, the way it's spreading… it has their fingerprints all over it."
Richard was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Then he nodded, his decision made. "Bring them in. It's time we had a talk."