Indie

 The air was thick with the scent of ozone and freshly cut grass, a sharp contrast to the metallic tang that lingered on Indie's tongue. She exhaled slowly, her breath forming a cloud in the cool night air as she squinted up at the stars. They were so close, just out of reach, like a mirage on the horizon. It was times like these that she missed home most; the open plains, the endless skies, the feeling of freedom that came with running barefoot through the tall grass, her long, raven-black hair streaming out behind her.

But that was a lifetime ago, before the war, before she had been taken from her family and forced to join the ranks of the Resistance. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen her parents, her little brother, or the house they had lived in. Everything had changed, and she was left here, in this strange and dangerous world, fighting for a cause she didn't always understand.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of rustling leaves nearby. Instinctively, she reached for her trusty combat knife, the cool steel reassuring in her grasp. Her heart raced as she peered into the darkness, her senses on high alert. Was it another patrol? An enemy spy? Or perhaps something worse? The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation and fear.

And then, out of nowhere, a familiar voice whispered her name. "Indie?" it said, soft as a whisper on the wind. She recognized it immediately; it was Alex, one of her closest friends in the Resistance. Relief flooded through her as she let out a shaky breath and slowly stood up. "Alex?" she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Is that you?"

There was a brief silence, and then Alex stepped out from behind a nearby tree. His face was grim, his expression concerned. "We need to talk," he said urgently. "Now."