But there was general knowledge I had learned over the years.
Unlike other Territories, Second Territory had no valleys ormountains to hide in. Only flat, bumpy ground with dead brush that provided few obstacles and nowhere to hide. There were also rivers, one of which provided the drinking stream our village used. The river itself was said to run along the border of Second and Third Territory, a natural barrier between the two.
I pivoted sharply to the right, dashing in the direction of my new target.
I’d never seen the river, but for our drinking stream to have its own current, the river had to be big enough to provide me with better evasion options than these barren woods.
“Stop,” one of the men shouted, his voice betraying a proximity that had my arms pumping harder.
I demanded myself not to slow. Rest could happen later when I was captured or dead.Or safe.I just needed to reach that river, wherever it was.
“Stop!” he shouted again, far closer than before.
Dread pooled in my stomach as I ground my teeth together.
Ahead, a gift from the world appeared. Several trees, old and thick, had fallen together into a long wall studded with tangled webs of spindly branches. It was too tall to jump. But in the center, the rotting wood had started to collapse along the ground, creating a small hole.
Please go all the way through.
I adjusted my trajectory for the opening, not allowing the possibility that the hole was too small for me. I would fit, and I would come out on the other side faster than they could climb over the top or run around the obstacle.
In three, two…
Squeezing my eyes shut, I dove forward, knocking the wind from my chest as I slid into the dark tunnel and stopped mere inches from the exit. Angry shouts and the bark digging into my clothes told me the men couldn’t follow my path, and something like hope sparked asI scrambled forward on my belly until I was out and running again.
“Bitch.”
The corner of my mouth curled as the word hardly reached me, having come from so far away, and my heart surged as I pushed on with new energy. Maybe…maybe I could make it.
You’ll make it. You’ll make it. You’ll make it.
Minutes passed as I repeated the words again and again, growing numb to the ache in my legs and feet which no longer felt attached to my body. A soft hiss emerged in the air, growing into a low growl as I weaved between trees and leapt over rocks.
Green flashed before my eyes. Then again. Small, verdant patches of green moss speckled the ground, increasing in number as the dirt grew softer under my feet and that growl became a rumble. The only green I knew came in sparse patches along the shores of the village stream. There was far more here. It had to be the river somewhere ahead, but I couldn’t see the water.
Another growl, this one human, erupted directly behind me. Then stark, stinging pain shot over my scalp as my neck snapped back and my body followed.
I lay on the ground, stunned.
The man was on me within a heartbeat, hand still tangled in my braid as his other forearm pressed into my throat. His eyes, hard and unyielding, were green like the moss. The patchy mud on his face revealed a brutal scar that sliced through his brow and a thick vein protruding down the center of his forehead.
He was livid.
He put his weight into his arm, and I snapped into action, driving the knife still grasped in my hand into the closest flesh it could find. Those green eyes flared with surprise as I jabbed twice more, slicing deep, and he fell to his side. His companions, far too close now, yelled as I clawed into the dirt and scrambled to my feet. The man swipedat my legs but fell short, the dagger embedded in his skin stunting his reach, and I ran.
My legs felt awkward, their energy spent, as I dashed toward the rumble that’d become a roar. But still, I couldn’t see the river.
Then the ground before me disappeared.
I slipped onto my ass, feet inches from thecliffand the monstrous, roiling water a few yards below it.
No wonder I hadn’t seen it before.
Hope shattered as I took in the wide, cavernous opening that was simply un-jumpable. Racing rapids shot plumes of mist into the air.
This had to be a joke.
The river wasn’t safety or an escape; it was death.
