I thought my world was going to end when Princeton died. The memory of his death is still burning inside me, as fresh as ever, although it’s been many years since he was gone. Blood. Knife. Scream that could wake up the dead. A chill runs up my spine whenever I recall it.


It is a beautiful autumn night with the pale moon frowning down on us with its powerful beams. The waves are crashing against shore and the smell of its salty water fills our noses. I have my bow and arrow hung over my shoulder and the razor-sharp blade clutched tightly in my hands while Princeton has his hunting spears in a neat stack that hangs over his chest. We are eerily quiet and calm as always, our footsteps as light as a ghost. Our feet expertly avoid crunchy leaves and seem to glide across the ground. As usual, Princeton and I work as a team. He keeps an eye out for any signs of life spying on us behind the dark shadows of the thick woods. I watch for our preys, my back facing the thick woods. Our backs are facing each other but if I use my peripheral vision, I can still make out the ghostly outline of his messy hair. His wool hunting jacket manages to keep his trembling body under a normal temperature. At nights that are too cold, he will wrap me around in his jacket even when he is shivering more than I am. I offered him my jacket once after I felt guilty for letting him shiver in the cold night’s air while I was warmly tucked under two layers of clothing. But he never accepted my offer.

Minutes turn to hours and the sky is darker than black. The cold wind has turned icy and slashes my cheek multiple times. My shoulders seem to be the only place of warmth, being covered with Princeton’s jacket. My bow and arrow is secured on my shoulder and the blade is still in my hand, poised for defense at any moment of attack. I take a glance at Princeton. His hair is ruffled by the wind and his eyes are squinted intensity. His mouth is tight and his usual pale face is even paler in the slim moonlight. I return to my watching.

“Starrina?” I hear Princeton whisper my name.

“Yes?”

“Do you . . . Do you hear that?”

My heart starts to beat faster. I listen intensively for any sound, but I don’t hear any. I’m relieved. Maybe Princeton had imagined it, but the relief doesn’t even last more than three seconds.

Suddenly, something moves between the spaces of trees. At first, I think it’s a deer but I know the crunching sound of leaves do not fit the quiet steps of the deer’s feet. I quietly whisper Princeton to follow me, and hurry to hide behind the nearest tree while holding the blade more tightly in my hands. I’m too busy saving my own life that I don’t even realize that Princeton isn’t there anymore
It takes me about ten minutes to notice the absence of the usual heavy breathing of Princeton and panic sweeps over me. I crawl beneath the bushes, stepping on soft soil to try to reduce the sounds of my footsteps. I run past the trees, zipping across the woods as if running is my first nature. My heart is beating so fast I’m afraid it will explode inside my ribs. I have to save Princeton, wherever he is. I duck beneath a low-hanging branch and continue, weaving this way and that, avoiding the painful thorns on some of the branches. I know these woods well. I have lived in them.
I have been searching around in the woods for what seemed like hours for Princeton and for a little amusement, I keep my mind focused on what I would say to him if I ever find him. Perhaps a little scolding might be appropriate, but not too much to depress his spirit. Or maybe a reassuring hug and then, some fussing. Anyhow, I am not paying much attention to where I am heading. Suddenly, a hand appears out of nowhere and grabs my hands. I scream and kick my legs, writhing in protest. I try to reach for my dagger but it isn’t there. It must have fallen while I was running, while I was too busy caring about my own life. The hands now hold onto both of my wrists and soon, I find myself hopelessly captured in the firm hands of a group of tough-looking boys. My hands are tied behind my back and one of the boys shoves me to the side. I crumple to the ground and when I open my eyes, I see Princeton. His eyes are looking into mine, its warmth radiating. His jacket is torn and his tidy hair is tangled, making him look even more vulnerable than he already is. But there is a change inside him as if he is concerned about my state. He sends a message when our eyes meet again. I know, I will save you. I promise. My heart shatters.
Princeton reaches for his spear and when the boy who is painfully clutching at my shoulder gets out his dagger is not looking. Its razor-sharp blade gleams in the moonlight and I have trouble swallowing a big lump in my throat. I know that Princeton is in a disadvantageous situation: 4 against 1. He will not be able to win. Unintentionally, Princeton steps on a branch which snaps into half. The gang turns around to us, alarmed by a sudden sound. The boy points the blade at my throat and challenges Princeton into a vicious trap. I silently beg that Princeton will not be foolish enough to approach the boy, but I know he isn’t the type that will be emotionless about losing a close friend of his. I can see it so clearly in his eyes: the determination to save me. But I know he will be gone even before I can blink my eyes. And I am right.
There is a scream coming from my mouth, begging for Princeton to back up, that I am okay as long as the knife doesn’t pierce my throat. But all is too late as he runs towards the boy and the spear clangs with the dagger. The boy makes his move first, expertly jabbing his dagger at Princeton and I scream at the top of my lungs for Princeton to let the boy just kill me. But it is as if my words are just a piece of dust, flying through the night air, no one listening. I watch hopelessly as Princeton dodges the boy’s jabs, his spear never leaving his hand. We both have trained for this, but never for the unexpected capture that led to this. The boy keeps approaching Connor and three or four times, his dagger comes so close to Connor’s heart that a yelp escapes my throat. Is there any way I can break these ropes chaining me?
I drop my dagger in front of me and use my feet to push it up from the ground at an angle that can slice the ropes binding me without ever leaving its place. I kneel down and somehow, after several deep gashes on my back, I feel the ropes come loose. I pull them apart and quickly join Princeton at his fight. While Princeton battles the gang, I pluck an arrow and poise to shoot. And the second I am ready to let go, I hear a scream that rattles my ear. I turn to look and there’s a blade stuck in Princeton’s chest. A gush of red blood wets his shirt. His eyes met mine for a few seconds, and I remember his last word. Strrina.

“Starrina! You are having nightmares again! Come on, wake up!”
I feel my shoulders getting shaken in a rough account, so I decide to open my eyes. The warm brown eyes of Sarah warm my cold, shivering body. I feel that my forehead is wet with beads of sweat. I let Sarah slip into the warm covers and put her small arms around me.
The aftermath of a nightmare is always the worst. The dream was so vivid that I felt as if I was re-experiencing that tragedy.
“I know, Starrina,” she says as if she was the eldest, “I know how it feels. I’ve had it once when I was a small kid. Don’t you remember?”
I nod. I do remember. She would throttle around, thrust herself onto the ground, moan and seem to have terrible visions that she couldn’t pull herself out of.
“But you have to fight it, Starrina. Promise you’ll fight it.”
I nod, taking several deep breaths to calm my nervous heart. I feel Sarah getting up beside me. She opens the door and gets ready to leave the room when she stops and says, “Starrina, Mom wants you to get ready for the Feast. You know that all the villagers will come! She said if you aren’t ready in ten minutes, she’s going to drag you down the stairs and—“
“Alright. I’m going. Tell her to wait.”
Even after my little sister leaves the room, I cannot help thinking about my nightmare. Princeton. I said his name out loud. The word I haven’t said for five years since his death. I certainly do miss him, but I also realized that life does not wait for anyone.
I shudder the uneasy feeling of the death of my best friend, and pop myself up to get ready for the Annual Feast.