Part III: Celia's freedom

Celia gritted her teeth on the bandana she had stuffed in her mouth, as the medical tech in her group stitched up a gash that ran from her shoulder to her forearm. That cut itself wasn't deep but it was long and at the moment, there wasn't a chance Celia wanted to risk infection.

Todd, the name of the guy who was patching her up, was slow and careful, knowing exactly what he was doing. He would talk to Celia, ask her mediocre questions, and then carefully pour rubbing alcohol on her stitches. Celia could feel a scream form in her throat, but she simply blinked the tears out of her eyes, bot giving in. Todd patted her on the head once he was done, and she shot him a dark look.

He gave her a sheepish smile, and Celia jumped off the seat, walking down a dirt pathway.

In the center of the woods, a pack of children mixed with animal DNA hid, some of them helping each other out to create treehouses, and covering them with branches and leaves. Celia was in charge to overlook