A/N: Hi, these are just some reviewer replies.
Amythcrystal: Thanks:-) As for her father, you won't find that out just yet. It's an OC, though, not Fiona.
SciFiGirl13: Thanks for the review! Glad you liked it!
Carsonsheir: Sadly, I can't reveal to you guys many details… However, she's from our world, not a Community.
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"I remember the old Receiver, Jonas," Wilma murmured, swinging back and forth as if in a rocking chair. Vague thoughts and memories whirled around her in a torrent of soft sounds and illustrious images. "They said he came all the way to here from another Community."
"Another Community?" Marie asked nervously, her ears pricked and her blue eyes wide. "Why? Do you know?"
Wilma nodded slowly as her eyes reopened and the chair ceased rocking. "They said he had almost drowned, but I knew better."
Marie, curious, stared deeply into the ancient Birthmother's eyes. "What happened?" she asked, her voice hanging, a wisp of sound in the suddenly still air.
"He escaped," Wilma replied simply. "He escaped his old Community to come to ours. I don't know why; I do know, though, that he looked young. Couldn't have been a year older than a Twelve. He's survived hardships, though, that much I know."
"That's it?" the younger woman insisted, and so it was.
"Yes," Wilma affirmed with a nod. "That's all I know about him. Nothing more, nothing less. He was great, they say."
Marie nodded, lost in thought. She aimed her gaze down toward her hand, crumpled in a fist under her chin, as she pondered and evaluated the situation. How could she approach this? Clearly, Wilma was nice, but despite the ancient Birthmother's knowledge about her father didn't mean she would be willing to help.
"Do you know what Receivers do, Wilma?" Marie wondered quietly, hoping in her heart that this new tactic would work. "What happens behind the Annex's closed steel doors?"
She shook her head slowly. "No, Marie, now that you mention it, I don't. I never really thought about it – by now, Jonas is long gone."
"Well, I know." Wilma's dark eyes widened, enough so that her eyebrows receded behind a shock of pale hair. "I know, and I'll tell you why it's so important.
"See, the world used to be different before," Marie continued, her voice hushed. "There used to be colour, music, smell, snow, sunshine…" She didn't know where the words were coming from, but she perceived them with the greatest of ease. "And there's more… We take our away our own freedom."
At this, Wilma gasped aloud. "Release," she murmured, her dark eyes growing in shock. "They kill them, am I right?"
She nodded back.
"I heard that, but I never actually believed it," Wilma said, talking more to herself than to the other Birthmother. "I'm on your side, but what do we do?"
Marie hadn't thought about that. She looked up, surprised. "Next month, it'll be December. I'll cause a diversion and run for it. All you have to do is ask everyone you know if they want to come, and then we'll escape together." It was really a very simple plan, though even after she said it, she realised that she had to go see The Giver in a month.
Wilma nodded back. "I'll do that," she replied, a determined gleam in her eyes.
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The Community was in chaos.
It wasn't, of course, merely a figure of speech the residents whispered among themselves for the rest of the week. It was muttered at the midday meal, rumoured about at rituals, chattered about at the Childcare Center, and, within eight days, Marie knew her mission would succeed.
"One word about the meaning of release, and everyone's devastated," Jaime laughed lightheartedly to his spouse that night. He was visiting Marie at Isabel's house; he couldn't stay for long, or else the Food Collectors would start to get wary if he was missing from their house. "Mind, it is about the saddest thing that can happen," he added, his happiness disappearing as his expression grew sombre.
"No thanks to the Community," muttered the lady darkly of the household herself as she passed by. Her arms were filled with the fresh produce, recently given to her by the Agricultural Crew. "I really, really hope we can save everyone before it's too late."
Will looked up at Isabel from where he was playing with Jesse. The little Five had been happily hugging his comfort object, a small, gray "mouse," but now he looked up suddenly, as if he knew his mother was worrying. "Don't worry, love," Will continued, and patted her arm. "We'll get through."
"And to quote the words of my pale-haired best friend…" Marie grinned mischievously at the group of friends that surrounded her, one foot perched on a box of old clothing for disguise. "… 'Humans are eternally hopeful, very annoying, and can take care of themselves, oddly enough.' Isn't that right, Isa?"
"True," Isabel concurred shrewdly, returning from the kitchen and beginning to stack more boxes of old clothes on the shelves. "Very true indeed."
"My spouse, the eternally sarcastic, annoying, and hopeful," Will commented with a laugh to Jaime, rising on his haunches as to slap him on the shoulder. The younger man grinned and pressed two fingers to his temple.
"I can see now that our two ladies are weaving their enchanting spell over us," Jaime replied, raising one eyebrow as Marie proceeded to drag a cartful of more old clothes down the hallway. It wasn't working.
Jesse seemed to be thinking for a moment. His head completely obscured by his thick hair, the young child's thoughts were on a roll. He eventually brought his gaze upward, his eyes darting from side to side, and joined in the fun by dutifully wrapping a frayed yellow scarf around his neck. The four adults watched in amazement as he twisted and twirled – if anyone aside from Marie could be Receiver of Memory, they suddenly decided it was him.
Everyone froze, though, when a tolling knell of death rang down the hallway.
The doorbell.
"I'll go get it," Marie said quickly, abandoning the delivery cart where it lay and rushing over to the door. She was on edge, and not without reason: who could it be who had so suddenly turned up at her friend's door at this time at night?
She curbed suddenly, her bare feet skidding on Isabel's polished tiles as she remembered to fling on the hood that was sewed onto the back of her tunic by Mario, who, oddly enough, had turned out to be good at that sort of thing. In a few seconds, her face was cast in dark shadow.
"Yes?" Marie asked in a rasping, guttural voice as she opened the door. The oiled hinges clicked slightly as she pushed it forward as to let the stranger in. "Who is it?"
"It's Wilma," replied the voice, and Marie looked up in shock and delight, enough so that the dark cape fell back from her face with a flapping sound.
"Wilma?" Her voice nearly choking in her happiness, Marie threw the door open completely. "I'm astounded you came!"
The ancient Birthmother was, however, chewing her lip as she cast nervous glances around Isabel's pleasant, airy hallway. "There's something I have to tell you."
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Woot, cliffie! So how did you like that for Chapter 4? More to come!
