They were nothing but children, a whole society ranging from the age of six or seven all the way up to the late teens. Children, governing themselves and setting their own rules. Children who hated ‘elders’, no doubt for good reason, but children nonetheless, and the travellers, in order to continue their journey, had unknowingly wandered into their realm.

Which led to them being held captive by a rabble of dirty ragamuffins. Jonathan Willaway would have been unhappy enough about that even if he hadn’t managed to get himself sentenced to death. All because he’d explored the temple that was apparently sacred to his captors, and how was he supposed to know that? He’d believed it to be an abandoned ruin, and he’d been curious. Ancient history was one of his many interests, and now, if his travelling companions couldn’t escape and rescue him, he’d pay for it with his life. It hardly seemed fair.

Talking to Alpha didn’t do much good. The boy listened, answered questions, got angry, made accusations, which Jonathan refuted as best he could, but despite being able, under normal circumstances, to talk himself out of most things, Alpha refused to listen to reason. Well, why should he expect a bunch of uncivilised children to be reasonable?

It wasn’t even that Jonathan disagreed with Alpha. He was anti-war himself, and enjoyed the finer things in life, so he could understand why the boy felt the way he did, it was just… In trying to be the best leader he could for the younger children, he’d become the very thing he hated. Now Alpha himself was the Elder, the one who made the rules, enforced them, and handed out punishment to anyone who broke them.

Human nature, perhaps. People always tried to control those younger than themselves.


The End