Morgan Pov
Talia and I were cleaning up the plates from breakfast when a few teenagers ran past us through the kitchen.
“What in the world has gotten into them?” Talia muttered.
I set down the dish that was now dry. “Where do you think they’re going?”
Talia shrugged, giving a look that practically said “kids these days.” She continued to wash dishes, but peered through the window above the kitchen sink. “Something must be going on outside. There’s already a huge crowd out there.”
I moved closer to see for myself when another woman, who had helped make breakfast earlier, walked into the kitchen. “You’re going to want to come see this.”
Confused, we both followed her out to the training fields. We heard shouting before we could see the source, but I knew that voice all too well. When w
