This, he realised, was the real world.

A black girl with bouncing long hair started down from one of the other tree houses. Nim, as her name was, wore baggy dungarees and a faded yellow t-shirt and there was two sunflowers propped over each of her ears. Her mouth was spread in a wide smile, and she came running, a laugh bubbling up as she neared.

Novak had found his way down the stairs and was fast approaching. His black hair bounced and his smile grew larger with every step he took. Everything about him whispered of warmth and reassurance, like he could fit someone between his narrow shoulders and lift their spirit up with only the strength of his embrace.

As they rounded the corner, there came a small cry and an “oumpf” and June saw Leon sparring with a black haired girl with a viciously stern face, inside what looked like a small paddock. June had seen the girl around before. She was tall, strongly built, looking like a killing machine when she wasn’t smiling and even more so if she did crack a grin.

We’ve escaped for a few days to my parents country house and have been writing and writing and planning! 

Charlie noticed his shoulders first because they were drawn back in a casual stance, but set like he was lurking on prey. His second, most defining feature, was his smirk. It reached halfway around his head, showed an awful amount of teeth, and it somehow reached his eyes in a painfully gleaming way. He wore a three-piece, but the jacket was discarded, he was blond, and he regarded Charlie.

The trademarked hood had revealed her identity long before anything else, as it shone like blood in the street light. And then it had been pulled off, and June had been met with dark eyes on dark skin, short black hair, and a smirk. Yes. Definitely Red.

A guy rode beside them, on a second animal. June’s age, maybe a little older. He looked casual, leaned back and bumping along slowly, but at one point, he’d twisted his head around at a sound June hadn’t even heard, so she thought the ease was just play-pretend.

The moon had already travelled halfway across the sky before the white-skinned, red-headed young woman exited the tower. She zipped up her jacket and shuddered against the surprise of cold air. It was a nice jacket, dark, and in comparison to Delilah’s, this girl’s jacket wasn’t patched in a single place.

The boy looked up like he hadn’t heard them before now. He looked tired, June noticed, bags under his eyes, and his brown hair messy—even further so when he pushed up the glasses into it—but the expression quickly changed as he laid eyes on the three of them. He had a childish glee to him, but he must’ve been at least eighteen, maybe even older.