Ok, so here's chapter 2. Might be some grammar and spelling errors (as usual) but oh well. Remember to review if you like it, so I know if I should keep writing or not! Also, as you may have noticed, the summary has been changed. I just went in a different direction, but yes.
Hope you like it!:)
The boy with hair like silver had followed the other man through the forest. He had been running after the boy who didn't seem faced against waking up in an unknown place, all on his own. The gods knew he would have been, and he didn't comprehend why his people had done it. It didn't make sense, his father had talked about a boy with hair as dark as the night sky and courage as a lion. He was the one who would help them, the one that their old lady - also known as the prophet, which Jem thought was absurd, he didn't believe in such things - had pointed out. He was the man in shining armor that would help them win the war. But the more they chased him, the more he seemed like a man in a dark armor. He couldn't possible be the one they were looking for, if he was, he wouldn't be running. He would be facing them until all of his enemies were dead, laying with their faces faced down in the mud beneath his feet. As if on cue, as if the man he was chasing had heard his thoughts, Jem saw him stop dead in his track. And then his voice stabbed through the air and sliced it in half. He was calling for them to come, and Jem had stopped. He was staring at the boy through the trees, judging his stance and the way he gripped that tree branch like it really would make a difference between his life and death.
After breaths of just standing there, Jem felt himself step forward. His body trembled in the cold wind and he did his best to conceal the cough that raised itself in his throat. He had moved his hand up to his mouth, to try and make the sound more discrete. But a riffled sound teared through his lungs and pierced the air. Even though the sound was soft, the dark haired boy whipped around and stared, deep violet-blue eyes transfixed on him. Jem cleared his throat and looked down on his hands, one of them were stained blood red and he quickly clenched his fist together. Concealing the blood for anyone to see, he couldn't let out that he was getting worse.
"Why am I here?" the dark haired boy demanded, voice rough as he stared at Jem.
Jem couldn't help but feel threatened by the boys appearance, especially when he said it the way he did. With that demanding voice and an underlying threat that he would tear Jem apart if he did not answer him. Him being around 6 feet and muscular added to that feeling, not to mention the way he held his lips dangerously pressed together. With his jaw set tight, Jem couldn't help but find him rough around the edges. He seemed to be the one to get into bar fights, and the prophet's words suddenly fitted the boy in front of him perfectly.
"We need your help." Jem breathed out the words, and it was now not a secret that the boy terrified him. Although, Jem's hesitation seemed to make the boy more relaxed. He wasn't clenching the tree branch with as much force anymore, now he just held it.
"And you couldn't just have come up to me and said that, it was absolutely necessary to drag me all the way out here?" the boy said with annoyance in his voice, as well as an ironic tone. Daring Jem to talk back, saying anything instead of standing there and trying to control his hands from shacking like leaves.
"We had to make sure you were the one." he answered, swallowing back the words that threatened to well up.
"The one for what?" Now the boy's voice had taken on a tone of suspicion, and threats seemed to radiate from his body. Slamming into Jem and almost knocking him flat to the ground.
"It's the war", Jem whispered, "our prophet told us that we could only win it if we had you on our side."
"What war?" And then it hit him, of course the boy didn't know what war Jem was talking about. It wasn't even a war on the surface, the government had concealed it well enough for it to be nothing to see, nothing to notice.
"Well, it's not really a war, yet", he began, feeling braver by the minute. "You see, the government has pushed us down and we want justice. We want to be who we are, out in the open. Not to have boundaries on everything, so I guess you could call us an organization against them, against the government." He stopped talking at that and took a heavy breath, tried to calm himself done. Just talking about it had made him mad.
"A resistance?" the boy asked and Jem nodded, actually daring to hope that he would join them. "And you want me in it, or your prophet says that you can't win?" The boy now sounded skeptical and as Jem picked up on it, he quickly stepped a few feet closer to the boy.
"Please, please just come with me. You can talk with my father and the others, they will explain it much better than I have. And if you then still don't want to, you can leave." He added that last part with a stronger voice, wanting to make sure that the boy believed him. An answer wasn't what he got though, instead the dark haired boy marched right past him and towards the way they had come. The dark trees almost swallowed him whole, reaching out and dragging him closer to the forest's heart, before Jem snapped out of his surprise and ran after him. Hurrying to catch up to the man that seemed more and more mystical the more he was near him.