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Snow hadn't been falling quite as quick as Gwen prayed for.
It was an odd thing, really, to wish for a harsh winter when they barely held on during summer, but Gwen is an odd thing — that much is obvious.
Gwen knows that someone is going to die this winter. She hears the leaves, that are all but dead, still rustling in the wind, and the sound of crackling and fire. There is something coaxing Gwen into doing something about it; something big and bad, something irresponsible, something irredeemable. There is nothing stopping her from sneaking into one of the girl's tents come nightfall, maybe Nicole’s, and slitting her throat while she sleeps. However she knows that the general consensus is that she’d probably be killed for that too.
This simply won't do when there's other matters to attend to.
Such as Anne-Marie.
Anne-Marie is to be made into someone special. Anne-Marie’s destiny lies in Gwen’s bloody, believing hands, which mold her into whichever shape Gwen desires, whether that be a shape that breathes or never breathes again.
Don't be fooled by how Gwen’s motives sound. Power is not what she wants, no, there is someone else who should hold that, and control is nothing more than power, so it's not that either. It's merely that Anne-Marie would make a tremendous follower, and she's curling further around Gwen’s finger, which is what she has always intended. Well, what It has always intended.
Anne-Marie doesn't sin, doesn't stray, doesn't even have to try to be good. That's nothing like Gwen. Gwen is fine with playing the necessary evil of the Timberwolves, is completely okay with sinning and sinners alike. It's within everyone to sin, she thinks, well, all but the perfect Anne-Marie.
“Gwen?” A voice, distant, somewhat distorted. Not distinct enough to pin a person to the voice. When the tent opens, pouring light in Gwen’s eyes, she shields herself, a hissing vampire in the sunshine.
“Gwen,” the sing-song voice echoes. It’s Sierra, she realizes. “Don't you have chores to do? With me? I don't wanna do them alone.”
“Yeah,” Gwen mumbles. “Well.”
“Well?” Sierra parrots, eyebrows knitted together.
Without haste, Gwen rises to her feet, standing over Sierra with a faint smile passing over her face.
“Later,” Gwen states simply, already beginning to move forward.
“But by the time later’s here, I'll be completely finished! Oh, GWEN!” Sierra yells after her but to no avail.
Gwen strolls around until she spots Anne-Marie. The pretty thing is plucking dead grass from its roots, staring off aimlessly, thoughts passing through her head.
Like predators do, she stalks her for the minute, watching, waiting to pounce. It would be so embarrassingly easy to sneak up behind her, plunge a blade into her neck and hide the body, claiming she’d fallen off a cliff or better yet drowned, but that's just Gwen’s intrusive thoughts taking hold. She shakes her head wildly, almost as though she's hoping her own brain slips out of her ears — anything to rid herself of these horrible thoughts. It's probably all of those macabre goth films she used to watch with Alice. Either that or she's really, truly rotten to the core.
“Gwen?” A voice. Soft spoken, gentle, welcoming. Anne-Marie.
“Hey,” Gwen replies, smiling warmly. “Sorry if I startled you.”
She shakes her head. “No, you didn't. I just wasn't expecting to see you. Don't you have, um, chores?”
Breathing a laugh, air puffs out in front of her face while she makes herself comfortable in the dead grass, right next to Anne-Marie.
“Yes, but, shhhh.” She places a finger on her lips. “Can't it be our little secret?”
“Alright, alright,” laughs Anne-Marie, and the sound is divine to Gwen’s ears. “I suppose we can.”
Her smile widens. “Thank goodness. Thank you. I don't know how much longer I can deal with Sierra’s talking.”
Although still giggling, she smacks Gwen on the shoulder. “Hey, be nice. She's sweet, just… a lot, sometimes.”
“You're right. But she really is quite annoying, wouldn't you say?”
Anne-Marie isn't really laughing anymore, but Gwen has this little inkling that she sees through her crowds of thousands of thoughts at once, just based on those eyes, and that maybe she knows more about Anne-Marie than Anne-Marie knows herself.
“I guess,” she reluctantly agrees, shrugging her shoulders.
Her eyes, so wide and full of precious life, travel towards the distance, and Gwen knows her time is coming to an end.
“Oh, um, there's Nicole,” Anne-Marie says with a smile. “She looks… mad. I'll catch you later, okay?”
Forcing a pained grin onto her face, she nods.
“Goodbye, Anne-Marie,” Gwen answers through gritted teeth.