We forgot to post yesterday, dearest apologies. Liberté should have the part out by tonight.

Day Seven — Afternoon

If chess was Liberté's soul sport, that explained why that afternoon was so chaotic. When Snow’s cabin had played that morning, it had been bearable, if not enjoyable. Braoin-the-Rook had won by a long shot, because apparently, the sort of people who still own CDs are the sort of people who are talented at life-size chess. Nightfall beat the other cabiners in precisely twenty-seven moves, and it was not, they declared, at all because they chose to play as the most powerful piece in the game. And, when Basil’s cabin played (along with Liberté herself, who was angry because Night had beaten her the last round) well, Sterling won. Once again, not Liberté, which was a problem.

“I am the most talented player of chess since Einstein. I know all the moves, I know precisely how to beat someone in seven moves, and I watched Queen’s Gambit twelve times in one day three months ago. Sterling must have cheated, because no one is allowed to beat a Reine in chess, because it is illegal. Sterling should go to jail.”

“Yes,” Sammy said from the sidelines, where she had been illegally watching the game instead of playing freeze tag with Snow’s cabin, because apparently freeze tag was an annoying and useless pastime that should be played only by three year olds who wanted to be Elsa when they grow up. “She should, because she killed my Alter Ego, as I keep saying. About ten times a day.”

“I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t cheat at chess, and Freak just walked past with a handful of money that was most certainly not his, so maybe you should throw the actual criminal-and-probably-murderer in jail and be done with accusing everyone from Luna-Starr to me. We didn’t kill anyone, so shut your face and let me take a nap.”

“I want a party,” Liberté whispered. Then louder, “I want the entire camp to have a giant chess party. Right now. And eat cake. And have chocolate and cheese and everything wonderful that starts with ‘C,’ like confetti and caring friends. I can order them off Amazon.”

“We don’t have access to the rest of the world, Liberté,” Basil reminded her, entering the scene with a harried expression. “Remember? That’s why we have all of these people dying and no police. And why Zachary is currently throwing a fit in my hologram office over his inability to communicate with his younger brother.”

“Talk about helicopter siblings. This is why we need a party.”

So, since arguing with Liberté is not a healthy pastime, she got a party, because apparently, winning chess is more important than an obsession with schedules.

But, before we get into the specifics of party-planning, the idea of giant chess should be explained. If you’ve read Harry Potter, then you should have a basic understanding of the idea. There is a complete chess board painted on the floor of a special room, about ten times the size of a typical board, and holograms of chess pieces are controlled by Basil Ambrose, who is, among other things, an amateur inventor and controller of hologram chess pieces. The campers may choose one chess piece to play as, and they use radios to communicate with each other and Basil-sitting-in-a-hologram-controlling-office so that they can say what moves everyone should make. There is usually a lot of arguing over this part.

Whoever captures the king wins, of course.

It’s quite simple, really, which is why Liberté was so angry that she had lost twice in a row.

Once Palenia Piper had cut confetti out of notebook paper and pretended to be a caring friend, it was time for the party to begin. Sammy, who didn’t want to play but had to, was a black pawn. Hopefully, as a pawn, she wouldn’t have to play much. Nightfall played as the black king, again, because playing and winning as a king is more impressive than anything in the world. Luna-Starr was their queen. Icarus was a black pawn, and Sterling was the white pawn directly across from him. Definitely not so that it would be easier to tell her beloved and completely independent Alter Ego what to do. Pine took the thrilling job of a black bishop. Ari was the black rook. Freak chose to be a white rook. Adrian was a black bishop. NerdFace was a white knight, ready to defeat the world in a massive shovel duel. Zach chose a white rook, as far from Ari as possible. She had eaten the sandwich he was angling for at lunch, and helicopter brothers are talented at holding grudges. dreamii, who wanted to stay next to Pine, chose to be a black knight. Braoin, chose to reprise his role as a black rook. Kitty Cat and Aspen were white pawns together, trying to make it easier to discuss the growing cycle of a peony, which was apparently fascinating. Liberté was the white queen, and Snow was a white bishop.

Everyone else was a hologram.

Once they got that figured out, Basil had returned to his rightful spot in the hologram controlling room. (It was an unfortunate fact that there was an entire room dedicated to controlling chess piece holograms, and one for the playing of life-size chess, but not a single library.) And it was time for the game.

Nerd to C3.

The game was full of arguments over who should move where and capture who and whether the holograms were conscious and reporting information to Jupiter. It did, however, thanks to Liberté’s insistence, somewhat resemble a party. Palenia Piper was in charge of small talk and handing out refreshments. Liberté did a lot of small talk and complained about all her exes (she had never dated anyone in her life, much less three football players, a famous starlet, and thirteen genius chess players, but everyone let her do her thing.) Adrian was very talented at doing nervous laughs, so talented that Freak recorded them and played the sound at random intervals. Kitty and Aspen obsessed over their peonies. They were probably the most natural acting pair, perhaps because they actually cared about what they were discussing. Sammy accused half the group of killing everyone. Luna listened to what everyone said, and wrote it down in her notebook (a new one, stolen from the craft supply cabinet.) Or, she did until Liberté decided that writing was not a party activity and had it confiscated.

The game took approximately two hours. Nearly everyone was captured, except for Aspen, Sammy (who was not captured because they all knew she didn’t want to play), Liberté, and the hologram of a white bishop. And the kings, of course. Nightfall and a hologram. Liberté had put Nightfall in check several times, but had never quite managed checkmate, although she was angling in once more.

Then Aspen moved, quite randomly, forward one space. Quite randomly, yes. She was so concentrated on her discussion about how to make sure than a peony has properly grown its roots that she didn’t realize that Nightfall was in checkmate until Basil announced it over the loudspeaker. After that, everything moved very slowly, and yet far too fast.

The lights went out.

The murderer raced to Nightfall, who had just emitted a loud and very profane curse.

They put on gloves.

They pulled a dagger from where it was hiding in their sweatshirt and unsheathed it.

They shoved the dagger into Aspen’s hand and guided it into Nightfall’s neck.

They pushed the sheath into Aspen’s jacket pocket.

Nightfall let out a garbled scream.

The murderer returned to where they had been standing before, and screamed as well. “What was that?”

Nightfall died.

One of Chopin’s funeral marches began playing over the loudspeaker.

The lights came back on.

Nightfall’s corpse was lying in a puddle of blood.

It was a ghastly sight, and Kitty Cat vomited profusely onto the special hologram projecting floor. Basil rushed into the room, not to scold her for ruining his invention (he was no Liberté, thank goodness and Shelby), but to make sure she was all right and pretend that the past minute had not happened, because it was too sickening and maybe if you concentrate on the vomiting child, the dead one might come back to life. Liberté was a Liberté, though, and she began complaining about the fact Aspen had won the chess game and that she was now on track to have the smallest cabin. Aspen looked down at the blood splattered all over her and screamed. Sammy screamed and ran forward, ready to attack the girl who seemed to be the murderer, because when red herrings are plentiful, a heartbroken girl has a lot of people to blame for her pain.

Adrian rushed to the side of their twin, ready to throw away their shy exterior and fight to the death if it meant Aspen would be alright. Basil restrained them. The world was in chaos, and Liberté was making it worse, and Freak was playing Adrian’s laughter in an eternal loop, awful background music, and he was laughing too, an awful, maniacal laugh, and Kitty Cat joins him, and Luna and Sammy and Sterling, and finally Aspen. It was the laughter of people who no longer know what to do, people who are so overwhelmed and full of fear and hate and sadness that there is nothing left to do.

The perfect background music for a scene of death.

 

***

 

We've skipped another week, apologies. NaNo fatigue is kind. A new part should be out soon.

A/N: I apologize for how late this part is, for the past two weeks, both Liberté and I were struck with NaNo fatigue and the wonderfulness of in-person school, as well as Liberté being overcome with writers block, which is why I've written the part you have before you. Apologies for no challenges as well; we think that it would be best to keep going without them. We do want you to know that we do fully intend to keep this ski lodge going, and finish it to the end. If we drop off the face of the earth, don't worry, eventually we'll come back. Happy reading. :)

---

Day Seven — Evening

 

As Snow, Ari, Braion, Luna-Starr, Zachary, and Kitty Cat stayed behind in the fancy chess room, sopping up the massive amount of blood that Nightfall’s neck had released, Sterling and Icarus had accompanied Palenia Piper to clean Nightfall up and prepare them for cremation, dreamii, Pine, Freak, and Sammy took to the stage, each performing acts of improv comedy to keep their minds away from the murder, Liberté, Basil, Adrian, and Aspen took to the counselor’s private lounge to discuss rather serious matters that included murder and insanity. 

 

“Death! Another one! Gone! Death! Death! Gruesome death!” Liberté screamed wildly, flopping ungracefully onto the retro orange couch that everyone knows so well, and seems to be the only couch Liberté finds appealing.

 

Basil sighs and places his hand on Liberté’s shoulder to try and calm her down. “I’m quite aware of the death, I do think we have other matters to attend to.”

 

“Ah, yes. Murder! We have a murderer in our midst! And she sits before us! Murder! Death, Murder, and Shelby!” She shrieks. 

 

Aspen, sitting in a small sofa adjacent to the two counselors, hugging her sibling too tight for their comfort, is sobbing, but silently, and without tears, so it’s more of a hyperventilate than a sob. Adrian tries to comfort her, but they have no avail. 

 

“I swear—” Pause. “It wasn’t—” Pause. “Me! I was—” Pause. “Almost killed—” Pause. “Myself!”

 

“Aspen, Aspen, take a moment to breathe. We do have to do some investigation; we can’t let you off the hook easily. There was a death of a camper, and the evidence happened to be with you. You also have the previous incident from dinner on day five with Nightfall, which does give you a clear motive to this murder. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be fine, for the most part. We thought you could spend the night, or maybe two in this lounge, get room service, and take a day off from the activities. During that time, I’ll be trying to recover the camera footage from that room, since, of course, the lights went out, and the camera quality isn’t really that good. If we can find evidence that you aren’t the murderer, we’ll let you go.” Basil replies. “After all, innocent until proven guilty, right?”

 

By the time that he speaks the last word, Aspen has stopped hyperventilating. Now, though, tears silently stream down her face, and for the first time that she’s been here, Aspen is truly upset; not just upset for fun and purposes for argument sake, instead, this is real. She knows she didn’t murder Nightfall...right? No, she didn’t. She was just a bystander, as confused as everyone else in the room but the murderer, the real murderer. And now, she’s being given all the hassle, just because there was a bloody dagger in her pocket. The suffering would end soon, though, she just didn’t know it yet.

 

“All right.” She says, smiling through the tears.

 

“Well then, let’s get you comfortable.”

 

***

 

The murderer stood outside the door to the private lounge. They listened in as Aspen was sentenced to seclusion, and briefly, a smile came to their face. Everything was going according to plan. Aspen would be gone by tomorrow, and everyone in camp would suspect someone else; anyone else, but them. But then, four words changed their whole train of thought. 

 

“...recover the camera footage…”

 

No. No. It couldn’t be, right? The lights were out. There was no way Basil could do that, right? The room was dark, and they had used Aspen as a shield. That camera footage could not be recovered, just because of how terrible the conditions were at that time. The murderer didn’t know that for sure, though. Basil had invented that whole room and holographic chess pieces, for Pete’s sake. Who knew what he could do? 

 

There was no chance that they could let him get a hand on that footage. 

 

That would ruin them, and they would surely be killed themself. 

 

This could not happen. 

 

And so, knowing that their reputation and their life would be in danger if anyone but themself even touched the footage, the murderer headed to the chess-controlling room, where Basil had been before, to find the footage and destroy it.

 

You never know when you have to be too careful.

 

***

 

“All right, now you aren’t allowed to leave this room. Because we don’t want you murdering anyone else in this camp. Oh, the shame! You have run my name through the dirt! All the Reine family will be remembered for is how their perfect little daughter ran a death camp! You rude little—“

 

“I surely think that’s enough, Liberté. The poor girl has been through enough. I think you should take a nap or something. Refresh a bit before dinner.” Basil says, the power of the side-eye very strong.

 

“I don’t know, Basil, I think Aspen is the murderer, because she murdered Nightfall. It’s very clear to me that this girl came into this camp to ruin both of our reputations and—”

 

“No one knew who we were before this. And I would highly suggest you to wait for the evidence, and keep your comments for when the person in mind is in the same room as you. You should go up to your private suite, and think things over for a bit.” Liberté hesitates, possibly trying to say something, but Basil cuts her off once more. “Now.”

 

“Fine.”

 

She makes her way to the curly stairs that lead to the floor above the lounge, which houses four private suites, one for each counselor, and one for Palenia Piper, and as she takes the creaky wrought iron stairs, her feet clang against them in anger, as if she was a child being sent to her room. Basil sighs and looks to Aspen, who stands just four feet behind him, clutching her sibling as tears stream down her face. 

 

“She doesn’t mean that, does she?”

 

“I really doubt that she knows what she is talking about right now. Liberté is someone who is very concerned with her reputation, and is willing to blame anyone for her mistakes. If you truly did commit these crimes, she’ll be given the gratification for her actions.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“Well… I believe that we’ve got the wrong person.” He smiles faintly. “But it never hurts to be safe.”

 

And with that, Basil leaves both Adrian and Aspen behind, leaving into the fading warmth of the night. The two stare at each other for a moment, until Adrian breaks off contact, hugs their sister, and leaves her behind. Aspen sighs loudly and her eyes glaze over with tears before she trudges over to the couch bed and flops down onto it, letting the exhaustion take over, and the blackness cover her mind.

 

***

 

It was dark when they opened the door. It seemed as if they wouldn’t be able to see their way to what they needed. Thank goodness someone had invented a flashlight. They pulled the flashlight out of their pocket, flipping the switch on. It flickered on, faded, then flickered off. Their flashlight was useless. A dead flashlight doesn’t provide light. And Liberté confiscated all the batteries on arrival. Oh well. It looked like they wouldn’t be having any light tonight. It was going to be fine, they told themself. Everything was going to be fine.

 

Or so they hoped. 

 

The murderer crept quietly through the room. It was small, about the size of two to three cubicles. It should have been easy to find the film, especially since Basil was so old-school that he still used disposable film as video retainer. The plasticy film could be anywhere and the ground to cover was miniscule. The only problem was the lights. The stupid lights and the stupid flashlight. And this stupid off-the-grid camp. With its stupid reward. Everything was so stupid. 

 

Stay on track. Find the film. Don’t. Get. Caught.

 

With that, they searched the cluttered desks; in the drawers, on the surface, in boxes. They searched the filing cabinet and emptied every camera in sight. But there was no film.

 

It had seemed to them that they wouldn’t be able to find the footage. Maybe Basil had it already. Maybe it hadn’t been developed yet. They were about to give up, heading towards the door, when their foot caught a small, plain brown box, sending them hurtling to the ground. Of course the murderer was angry. Something had gotten in their way, and if something didn’t go perfectly, well, let’s just say they felt rather… murderous.

 

And then it hit them. This box could be everything they need, literally right at their feet. They scramble to pick it up, and lift the lid slowly, as if the contents were sacred. Inside, there was a strip of black, rubbery and belt-like. They felt defeated, thinking that it was nothing but a belt purchase. But then, they caught just a glimmer of light off the surface of the strip, and they knew, right then and there, that this is what they had been looking for. 

 

Quickly and quietly, the murderer replaced the lid and took the box, placing the film back inside, and tucking the small thing on the inside of their coat. Suddenly, they stopped and smiled. It was like they were a little kid again, playing hide and seek. That feeling faded quickly, though, as they heard the door on the opposite side of the room. Light flooded the area, and they dropped to the ground. Someone walked in, their footsteps loud and booming. 

 

“Is someone in here?”

 

They didn’t speak a word. They didn’t even breathe.

 

“Hello?”

 

They found themselves creeping their legs into their stomach, assuming a ball position. The lights went on. They grimaced. A person came around the corner. They squeezed their eyes shut. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Basil’s voice says, his eyebrows raised in inquiry.

 

“Um, sorry, migraine. This was the darkest room I could find. Every other room has windows.”

 

“Aha. Well, let me know if you have any more problems. Palenia Piper has some hidden Advil in her office. She could help.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“All right, you should probably get going now”

 

“Right. Bye.”

 

They skitter out of the room, furious. They almost broke rule number five. Basil almost caught them. And they had done so well with Aspen. The only thing left was to finish the plan. That had to come tomorrow.

 

Somehow, they knew it would be perfect. 

 

And Aspen would be dead.

 

***

 

After dinner, three hours later. 

 

“I’m just not sure, Basil. Sure, she won. But, is she a murderer? How would that be fair to the others?”

 

“Well, if she is the true murderer, her Juniper Branches would be revoked. The poor girl has already been through enough, I think it would be kind of us to give her this true win.”

 

“I am very kind, thank you. I just don’t know if that’s the right thing. What would the other campers think?”

 

“Who cares? Sammy already thinks everyone is a murderer, and Nightfall didn’t really have anyone close to them. I believe we can get out of this scot-free, and get the campers thinking about the next competition. After all, geocaching is always quite fun.”

 

“Chess is better. I’m the best person ever at chess.”

 

Basil opens his mouth to say something about how Aspen won, and Liberté really died, but then closes it allowing Liberté to believe in that idea. It would really help his case with the juniper branch. 

 

“Yes. Anyways, what do you think? Should we?”

 

“Sorry, should we do what again? I was thinking about how my ancestors created chess.”

 

He sighs. “The juniper branch?”

 

“Oh, right. Fine. Whatever you deem necessary. I’m going to go try to talk someone into playing small chess with me. I need to leave today with a win in something. The Reines never give up without a win.”

 

She leaves before Basil can reply, leaving him alone in the courtyard. 

 

“Well, Aspen, it seems you have won your first challenge.”

 

Too bad the branch meant nothing. She’d be gone tomorrow. It was practically useless. 

 

But it was still a victory. And those count.

 

---

Congrats to Aspen on the win this week. You have earned a juniper branch.

 

--- 

Dead: 7 (Hot Coco, Ydris "Masquerade" Dìomhaireachd, Felix, Inari, Summer, AutumnArtist, and Nightfall. May they rest in peace in the glory of Camp Juniper)

 

Dang! I forgot the bulletin board. XD

I'm so sorry that this is two weeks late. Again. I like distracting myself. Anyways, Liberté and I are planning to start on Sunday, a fancy week called A WEEK OF LIBERTÉ AND BASIL! where we are going to attempt to post every day. It will probably not work, but it doesn't hurt to try! Here's the beginning of day eight.

Day Eight— Morning

 

The morning brought a chill that no one had seen in the past eight days. Even the expensive, temperature-regulating sweatshirts were failing to keep up with the cold. Thankfully, though, NerdFace had about twenty extra sweatshirts in her bag, and Icarus had brought his most trusty Hamilton sweatshirt, so every camper was good on warmth. If they weren’t, Palenia Piper provided them with emergency blankets, the thin ones made of shiny aluminum which were warmer than any fleece blanket. Freak decided to take one and make it a cape. He forced everyone to call him CapTIN aluminum which definitely was not funny (it was very funny) and definitely made no one laugh (a lot of people laughed). 

 

I guess CapTIN aluminum brought a bit of fun to an otherwise strange situation.

 

However, Liberté was not pleased.

 

Not pleased at all.

 

“We paid good money for those, Basil. These kids can’t survive without them. If they’re faulty, I want a refund. Refund, refund, refund. Those sweatshirts are practically the only thing keeping us running. I just—” She pauses, a glimpse of something shiny catching her eye. She turns.

 

“FREAK! Stop chasing poor Kitty Cat with that shiny thing. No, she is not evil. Ugh, I swear, these children will be the death of me.” And off she goes after Freak.

 

***

 

To Aspen, the chill was nothing. She didn’t feel it, of course, since she was kept in a temperature-regulating room. 

 

The night has been sleepless. Apparently the walls were quite flimsy, because a very loud snoring echoed from upstairs. This, of course, kept Aspen awake. No matter what she used, whether it be earplugs, a pillow, or even earbuds blasting “calming” music, the night did not want her to sleep. Perhaps the Earth knew that she should spend her last hours awake. Or maybe it was Snow’s fault. We shall never know.

 

She had been provided a breakfast of warm maple and apple mush (oatmeal) and a nice, large mug of steaming hot coffee, which was decaffeinated due to Liberté deciding she did not deserve the luxury of caffeine. 

 

Again, this was a large mistake on her part, because Aspen was in a very sleepy daze for the rest of her existence. Possibly, caffeine would have spared her. Once more, we shall never know. There is a lot of not knowing today. 

 

Perhaps I just can’t tell you.

 

***

 

Sammy sits alone, hiding behind the main building of the lodge, observing the shadow of a flower. A blackish blue sweatshirt, courtesy of Nerd, covered her normal golden colored sweatshirt, and the hood graced the top of her head, hiding her high-maintenance, rainbow pastel hair. If it weren’t for the slightly annoyed, slightly angry face, Sammy would have resembled a small, sad child who wasn’t allowed to go play at the park today.

 

But Basil, you start, why is Sammy annoyed and angry?

 

Well, let’s just say she was waiting for someone who was very late. Sammy isn’t one to put up with the extreme lateness of people, especially sketchy people who are able to constantly steal confiscated things, mainly Luna-Starr’s notes.

 

Luna is a crazy ski lodge lady, of course her notes would be insanely valuable to the murderer.

 

Yes, you heard that right. Sammy is meeting with THE murderer to try and find the person who killed her dear Ydris. And to talk about other things, of course. Like the plan to show the counselors that Aspen is the true murderer. Sammy doesn’t know that the murderer, the only one capable of killing her AE, is going to be right with her in a few minutes, but she does know that Aspen will be dead today.

 

How she knows that is classified. No complaining.

 

***

 

The murderer has yet another notebook penned by the one-and-only Luna-Starr. How they got it is a mystery... to you at least. They stand just right around the corner from Sammy, with a pencil in hand, trying to copy Luna’s exact handwriting. Red herrings are always fun, and they’re especially more fun when you murder someone with that red herring. 

 

Unfortunately, their penmanship is nowhere close to copying Luna’s. But they’re not willing to give up, especially since they need to convince Sammy of some things, and for some reason, she is very into believing everything Luna writes. 

 

And that might be her Achilles heel. 

 

Sammy sneezes from around the corner, startling the murderer. They quickly pen in a few notes that could lead her in the wrong direction and smile. The handwriting matches. So, they turn and tiptoe back a few steps, before almost stomping towards Sammy, announcing their presence. 

 

“Sorry I’m late, I had to stop at the nurse for a moment. Migraines.”

 

“Oh, no problem.”

 

“Thanks. Anyways, I found another notebook I thought you might like. Here.” They drop the purple-covered notebook into Sammy’s lap, watching the wind, the wind that they can’t feel due to the temperature regulating sweatshirts, ruffle the lined paper inside the cover.

 

And even though they wore a fiery red sweatshirt courtesy of Nerd, a chill still rattled their bones.

 

As Sammy flipped through the pages of the notebook, her face scrunched up while the information processed in her head. She focused on the notes after Night’s death. After all, anything in front of that is too far in the past (or she thought that. Truthfully, it had only been seven days).

 

—Aspen was found guilty of Nightfall’s murder. However, the weapon was found in her pocket. Why would it be there, of all places? If it had been me, I would have hidden in much better. Perhaps she is not truly the murderer.

 

—Aspen was still awarded a juniper branch. The counselors must know something we don’t.

 

—It’s beyond cold this morning. I think the weather is aware of our actions. But… Snow has been rather scary lately. Perhaps it is her fault. After all, the child’s name IS Snow. There must be something behind that. Look into that more later. Liberté is coming,

 

And finally, the murderer's addition.

 

—Aspen will be dead by the end of the day. And I shall be the one to do it. But how…?

 

The last one made Sammy’s eyebrows raise in suspicion. Who would write such notes in a notebook that would likely be confiscated? It seemed rather odd to her, but the note did just what the murderer wanted it to do.

 

It threw Sammy onto a different trail.

 

Perfect.

 

***

 

Pine and dreamii sat under a tall oak tree, leaning against the trunk. A pink fleece blanket covered their legs, and they sucked their arms into the extra sweatshirt, absorbing their own body heat. Pine had not slept for five days. Well, if he did, the sleep was meaningless, and he woke more exhausted than the night before. But for him, the tree was calming. Perhaps it was because oaks were Felix’s favorite tree. Perhaps it was the calming smell. Perhaps it was because dreamii was right next to him, breathing calmly, as her eyes fluttered and she slowly fell into dream. It didn’t take long for Pine to follow suit. In merely five minutes, Pine was asleep. 

 

Little did he, or dreamii for that matter, know that a kidnapping was going to take place right in front of them, and would carry on into the small, useless shack behind them. 

 

Maybe that would have been enough to save Luna from a terrible thing. And maybe it would have altered fate, and preserved the life of Aspen. 

 

This is all classified, to you, unfortunately.

 

***

 

The murderer, already tired from their really, really long conversation with Sammy, who, since she was alone most of the time, was very talkative with people she trusted. So, she talked. For an hour. About anything that crossed her mind. She would have talked longer, but they announced that I of all people needed help and they needed to help me. (Saddest excuse ever. When have I ever needed help? Liberté, stop giving me that side eye, I’m trying to get a point across.) Anyways, that’s how that conversation ended. 

 

Luna-Starr was enjoying her last decent meal at Camp Juniper, in the courtyard. 

 

Alone.

 

Sure, she’d live to see today, but tomorrow, well, it didn’t look so exciting for her. So, point stands. Last decent meal. And she was alone. If anyone had learned anything here, it was that being alone was the last thing you wanted to be, especially with a very active murderer in their midst. 

 

But, unfortunately, she was alone. 

 

***

 

A repurposed brown flour sack is the best kidnapping tool, at least that’s what the murderer thought. With them, they had a spool of rope, and a tranquilizing dart. This had all been stolen from the confiscated items Liberté had hidden in an underground safe, which, apparently, was very easy to find. 

 

They walked up behind Luna, who had just taken her last bite of waffle, and quickly inserted the dart into her shoulder. 

 

“Hey! What was that—” 

 

Her eyes droop, her shoulders sag, and she collapses, banging her head against the bench, and falls onto the grass below. The murderer quickly binds her hands and ankles together and covers her head with the sack. Of course, they still need Luna alive and breathing, so they’re careful with the sack. 

 

Once they’re sure that Luna is secure, they pick her up and carry her through broad daylight, across the field, right in front of Pine and dreamii, who, like mentioned before, are fast asleep. 

 

So, they enter a small deserted building, a smirk on their face. The plan was complete. 

 

Luna-Starr was placed on a mat and left to the blackness of her own thoughts. 

 

Her last genuine thoughts before her fate was sealed.

 

Poor Luna.

 

***

 

 

Dead: 7 (Hot Coco, Ydris "Masquerade" Dìomhaireachd, Felix, Inari, Summer, AutumnArtist, and Nightfall. May they rest in peace in the glory of Camp Juniper)

Alive: 14

Juniper Leader: Sammy Everlast and Luna-Starr (tied with two juniper branches) 

 

***

comments are welcome, by the way! :)

 

and here's the bulletin board!