Sylvia was finished with her second pile by mid-afternoon. As she had done so before, she packed up her things and crossed the river, walking in another straight line for a while until she found another tree to utilize.
This tree had a much thicker trunk than the others surrounding it, and, if Sylvia's visual assessment was correct, it was also taller than the rest.
Perfect.
And once more, she gathered up leaves and branches and, in an almost loving manner, piled them up against the tree.
This will have to be the last one, the Fire Spirit told her. Then we can unleash the cleansing fire upon this cruel world.
Sylvia nodded obediently. She too was getting impatient.
But the payoff would be brilliant. She just had to wait. All night, it seemed. The sky was getting darker and she could feel herself fading.
Alright, she told herself, I just need to wait one more night. Then the fun can begin.
She slept, restless with excitement, tossing and turning amidst the beautiful red and gold leaves.
That night, the anthem signaled the deaths of the boy from Four and the girl from Eight.
And, high up in the tall tree where Sylvia had set up her pile, sat the boy from Eleven, who silently cursed his luck. He'd climbed up the tree to hide, and now he was trapped. He couldn't risk climbing back down without disturbing the pile and potentially awaking, and angering, the crazy girl from Seven.
Oh, why did it have to be her?