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back to his chariot. As he walked with enraged strides, he called into the microphone, “Where does my Parliament stand on this! Why haven’t you acted?” He shot a bitter stare at the Parliament members who stood near the chariot, all with ready blades in their hands. No member replied to him. “That boy has a reason to die, and you all have a reason to hunt him.”
                  The man who had given him the microphone stepped forward, shivering. He picked his head up and said, “Men like you have a reason to die.”
                  Appalled by the rebellious act, Mr. Charlie stood angry. In one quick motion, his heavy hand swung down the rebel’s neck, putting him directly in the snow.
    -----
                  Milo entered the forest swiftly and cautiously. It was calm here, the wind softly moving the frosted trees. He decided he could stop running, and sat behind a fallen tree. He confirmed he was out of sight from Salem, and rested.
                  “Milo!” A voice from the trees was whispering to him, calling his name. Milo, dazed, looked up. Up in the tree next to him, was a figure in a black cloak. Milo saw her face under the hood; it was Lyrah.
                  “What are you doing here?” Milo asked.
                  “I need to talk to you.” She leaped down from the tree branch covered in snow where she stood, and landed beside Milo.
    “Right now?” Milo barked as he stood up. “Do you have any idea what just happened back there?”
    She looked deeply at Milo for a moment, and then faced the snow. She put her hands into her cloak pockets, and lightly shook her head before looking back up at Milo with an agilely iniquitous smile. “Milo, there’s some things you need to tell me.”
    Milo simply stood still, with the same look. After a second of overturning many possible responses, he said, “First, there are things you need to tell me .”
    Lyrah stepped forward. “Like what?” Her eyes forced a strange bleakness into Milo’s mind, and he spoke again.
    “You can hear my thoughts, can’t you?” He asked. His tone was raised slightly, as a result of his rising anger and confusion.
    “In some ways, yes I can. But you are a difficult one to understand, unlike average. You are peculiar, Milo.” When she said this, Milo began to feel the wind harsher than usual and a misty chill was weaved through him. He looked at the scar on Lyrah’s face.
    “Peculiar?” The oddness of the things she said we’re beginning to dim. Without thought, Milo’s next words emerged from his throat. “Are you human?”
    With an abashing expression, Lyrah asked, “Human? Of course I’m human.” She took a small step back from Milo. “No more than you.”
    Milo wasn’t too frightened by this, more amazed. “How can you do this?”
                  Lyrah shrugged and said, “I asked to know something from you.”
                  “What do you need to know?”
                  She hesitated. A snowflake lightly landed in one of her eyes, but was swept away quickly, and she said, “Did you feel anything strange that night when I showed you the lynx?”
                  Milo did not have to seek his mind for the response, “Yes, I did actually. Do you know anything about it?”
                  “No,” she said, stepping closer, her eyes now shifted from being fixed on Milo and now she looked to the sky, which was a pale greyish-blue color. “I wish I knew. It was strange.”
                  “You felt it too?” Milo asked. He, too, now looked to the sky. The clouds were a dim color, foreshadowing gloomy weather.
                  “Yes. And for some reason, I cannot help but think of it.” She said.
                  Milo, watching the clouds in the sky, responded, “Thoughts are weird.”
                  Lyrah seemed to be in higher