Well…that's it, people! A Question of Survival has officially been finished (although I am very open to any improvements suggested, and will probably rewrite it sometime). Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. This story DEFINITLY would not have come so far without you guys. I'm really glad you enjoyed it…I certainly enjoyed writing it!

Kiv, Keziah and co. have become so lodged in my head now, that I really had to find out what happened to them next. Therefore…a sequel!

I'm not sure when I will post the first chapter of it, because I like to write a large part of it before adding it to Fiction Press. This way I can keep the gaps between updates relatively short. I don't have that much time to write during term time, but as the holidays are fast approaching (thankfully) I should be able to spend more time on it soon.

All I can tell you at this stage is that there is more action, new characters and, of course, lots of juicy cliffhangers.

So, have a great Christmas everyone!






Oh go on then…I couldn't resist giving you something to chew on over the break….this is part of the first chapter of the sequel. Enjoy!!!



He crouched, sweating and shaking, in a dirty, smelly corner of the storehouse, watching his stepfather approaching. The man grabbed a handful of his victim's hair, and dragged the boy into the middle of the room. There was no use in protesting; Cydran was too strong, and driven by a hatred that was even stronger.

The man threw him down beside the only object in the room, something about 5 feet long and covered by a sheet of material. He knew it was a body.

"Bury her!" Cydran spat. "You killed her, so you can bury her!"

Tears rolled down the boy's face as he started scraping with his fingers at the concrete floor. He knew it was his fault. He knew he deserved this. He had killed his sister.

"Hurry up!" his stepfather yelled, kicking him in the ribs. The boy clawed frantically at the floor, his bleeding fingers leaving red smears on the unaffected stone.

The next time he looked up, the cloth had been removed from the corpse, and he was staring straight into his sister's face. Then the face changed to one he knew well.


Her dark eyes were cold and dead. He gasped in horror as dark, warm blood started flowing from her mouth, soaking his knees as he knelt beside her. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He couldn't even close his eyes…

"No!" Kiv Mazekke wrenched himself out of his bed, out of his nightmare. Sitting on the edge of the bunk, running a hand through his sweaty black hair in despair, he wondered how long it could go on for. He hadn't had a peaceful night for weeks. His head throbbed unbearably, and his other injuries complained loudly at him for having moved so suddenly. Overall, he felt crap.

Reaching down beside the bed, he grabbed his crutches and hopped over to the sink in the corner of his small, dingy room. The small, white tablets in the cabinet provided a minimal relief, but it was better than nothing. He swallowed more of them than he should have, gulping down water afterwards and splashing some on his face.

Glancing in the mirror in front of him, he realised he looked more haggard than he would have liked. A combination of sleepless nights and pain gave his face a grey, strained appearance.

The clock beside his bed informed him cheerfully that it was 5 o'clock. Giving up on the idea of sleep, he pulled on his standard black tracksuit, feeling slightly better as his numerous scars were covered. It would be cold outside this early in the morning, but that was how he wanted it. He needed to be awake for the first day of term at the academy. This time he wouldn't be a trainee…