The Change
1011 Words
It started with a simple question.
It was after dinner, the fire casting flickering light over the camp, when one of the rebels turned to Gunnar and asked, “So, what’s her name?”
Alex tensed.
The group had been talking about nothing—banter, training, old stories. But then, just like that, the focus shifted to her.
Gunnar, sitting across from her, leaned back on his hands. “She hasn’t told me.”
That was true. And Alex expected him to leave it at that. But instead, he looked directly at her, brow raised. “Actually, that’s a good question, Alex. What is your name?”
Alex exhaled through her nose. “I already told you. It’s Alex.”
A few of the rebels chuckled. One of them scoffed. “Come on. That’s not your real name.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re right about that.”
“So what is it?”
She didn’t answer.
The conversation should’ve died there. Gunnar should’ve moved on, let it go. But instead, he tilted his head, studying her like she was a puzzle he was determined to solve.
“Why won’t you tell us?”
Alex forced a casual shrug. “Why does it matter?”
“It matters because you’re here,” Gunnar said. “It matters because we took you in, patched you up, kept you alive.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask you to.”
Gunnar scoffed. "You didn't need to."
Alex stood. “I’m done with this conversation.”
She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her. “Do you even know why you’re so determined to keep it a secret?”
She froze.
Slowly, she turned back to him. He was still lounging against the log, looking effortlessly composed. Like this was nothing more than an interesting discussion to him.
Alex’s fists clenched. “It’s none of your business.”
Gunnar exhaled through his nose, like he was trying to keep his patience. “You’ve been here for weeks. People trust you more now, but they’re still wary. They want to know who they’re fighting beside. It’s not unreasonable.”
“I never asked to be here,” Alex snapped. “And I don’t care if they trust me. I don’t trust them.”
The words settled like a slap against the air.
For the first time, Gunnar’s cool composure cracked. Just a little.
Then, just as quickly, he fixed it. He stood up, brushing dirt from his hands. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
Alex narrowed her eyes.
She expected more pushback. More arguing. Instead, he just gave her one last unreadable look before turning and walking away.
Something about it pissed her off more than anything he could’ve said.
She turned on her heel and stalked toward the edge of the camp.
Alex didn’t bother being careful this time.
She wasn’t in the mood for sneaking.
She moved fast, weaving through the camp, heading straight for the treeline.
The guards spotted her immediately.
“Hey!”
Footsteps thundered behind her.
She was almost there—almost past the last tent, almost into the dark cover of the trees—when hands grabbed her from behind.
She thrashed, throwing elbows, twisting in their grip, but there were too many of them.
She barely registered the sharp pain in her side until they shoved her down, pinning her against the ground.
“Gunnar’s not here to save you this time,” one of the guards muttered.
Then, rough hands yanked her up, dragging her toward the back of the camp.
Alex bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to make a sound.
They pulled her toward a caged-in structure—solid metal bars reinforced with thick chains.
One of the guards opened the door. The others shoved her inside.
Alex barely caught herself before hitting the ground.
The door slammed shut behind her.
She forced herself up, gripping the bars, glaring out at the rebels.
“This is your last warning,” one of the guards said. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because Gunnar vouched for you. But even he won’t be able to help if you keep pulling this shit.”
Alex didn’t respond.
She just stood there, breathing heavily, watching as they turned and walked away.
The next two days passed in a slow, aching blur.
They didn’t feed her.
They gave her just enough water to keep her from passing out.
She tried to stay standing, but weakness eventually forced her to sit. Then lay down.
Her body ached from the rough way they had thrown her in here, her old wounds burning from lack of care.
By the time the door creaked open, her head was spinning.
One of the guards stood over her. “Get up.”
Alex didn’t move.
“Get up,” the guard repeated, more forceful this time.
She grit her teeth and forced herself onto her knees. Then, slowly, onto her feet.
The guard grabbed her arm, dragging her forward.
They led her back to the main camp, stopping near the fire pit.
“This is your last chance,” the guard said. “If it were up to me, you’d still be rotting in that cage. But Gunnar spoke for you. You should think about what that means.”
Then they released her and walked away.
Alex stood there for a moment, swaying slightly.
She was free.
But something was wrong.
She glanced around the camp, eyes scanning for familiar blonde hair, for a smirk, for blue eyes watching her from a distance.
But she didn’t see him.
Gunnar was nowhere.
She hadn’t seen him in two days.
And suddenly, the camp—which she had resented, which she had tried so hard to leave—felt suffocating in a different way.
Without Gunnar, she had no one to talk to.
She was an outsider again.
And for the first time, it hit her that she might’ve just lost the only real connection she had left.
- Writer
