Still, I pause when the edge of the forest comes into sight, revealing the massive fields ahead of me. There’s an illusion of safety beneath the branches, but out there in the open? There’s nowhere to hide.
Hesitating, I weigh my options. I could stay in the forest, but that’s not a permanent solution. I sure as hell am not going to be crawling into any caves I might find, or anything underground if I can avoid it. No, I could stay here for a few days, but I’d need to move on eventually. Might as well do so now under the cover of night when I stand better odds at success.
Freezing at the edge, I fall into a state of patience, assessing everything. A solid thirty minutes I remain stock still, making sure there’s no sign of anyone working the fields between here and the woods so many miles in the distance. I might be able to use the barns or farm houses as cover, but it could just as easily do more harm than good. If someone were inside feeding a horse or the like, they’d sense me when I got too close.
I’m going to have to run it in a straight shot.
I cringe, my leg already aching something fierce. Sitting down for a second, I lull my muscles into a false sense of security and massage my leg. After I make it across, I’ll find some place to hole up for a day or two. I just need the basics; some food, water, and a place to sleep. It’s not much of a life, but at least it is one. Freedom comes at a price and I’ve paid my pound of flesh for it ten times over. There’s always the possibility that one day I’ll find others, can stop running, but I’m not about to hold my breath. I’ll likely live to the ripe old age of twenty-eight if I’m lucky, so I better make these next four years count. Three? I can count time with the best of them, but without a calendar to sync to, I have no clue what the date is. Worse, based on the beginning fall weather, I need to get my shit together sooner rather than later before I freeze to death.
Getting to my feet, I shake out my hands before adjusting my stance. One more scan of the surrounding area and I break into a sprint, using muscles I haven’t had to in ages. I’m already out of breath a few minutes in, but I keep going, weaving through the fields.
The plants are taller than I am, and I try and find the narrow paths between the rows, knowing I’ll sound like a stampeding elephant if I just plow straight through. I want discretion as much as I want victory, because by the sheer volume of these crops, I know there has to be more than just a couple of farmers nearby.
Faster and faster I press on, even as my leg threatens to give out. I feel like the hobbling chick from the dinosaur movie I saw as a kid, waiting for a velociraptor to show its face. I’ll call it a clever girl, get my face bitten off; ironic, really. It’s practically my reality with these brutal dragons constantly hunting me, wanting to tear me apart.
“Shit!”
A shot rings out and I curse, pushing myself harder, faster. Adrenaline floods my system, my flight instinct overruling the burning of my lungs. I weave, knowing better than to run a straight line if someone’s shooting at me. Another couple of shots and real fear starts to creep in, but I refuse to let it overrule my common sense. Dragons are built like damn gladiators; there’s no way I’ll be able to fight them off in this condition or outrun them forever, especially with my leg already screaming.
Get to the tree line. Hide.
When I break out of the fields, there’s a gap of empty space for a few yards until the forest. I put every bit of self-preservation into my motions, hauling ass and entering the woods. Still, I don’t slow, running flat out despite the stitch in my side, weaving between the trees. Every breath tears at my lungs, makes me want to whimper, but I refuse. Banking left, a root trips me up, shrouded in fallen leaves, and I go sprawling, scraping my palms. I may be used to the shadows and artificial lighting, but I don’t know this terrain. I’m stuck using the occasional swath of moonlight to guide my way, tripping over rocks and skidding on damp leaves. Fumbling to my feet, I make another sharp turn.
How good is their sense of smell? Can they scent my blood in the air? I’ll never be able to hide then, and I’m already slowing down. Did I damn myself already, on day fucking one?
I’m not going back. They want to turn me over? I’m going down fighting, even if it kills me. I’m not going to be anyone’s plaything again, not going to let them try and force me to breed their hellspawn. I might want to live, but after getting a recent taste of the outside world?
I can’t go back. I know life is cruel, but it can’t be so unfair as to taunt me with fresh air, just to drag me back down.
Pumping my arms, a sob attempts to tear free of my throat that I stuff down when another shot rings out. I take a running leap at the massive tree in front of me, barely making it to the lowest branch. Arms trembling and screaming, I manage to pull myself up, chest rising and falling in rapid succession.
Climbing higher and higher in the branches, I aim to get as far away from the threat as possible. There’s no doubt in my mind that he can taste my fear; it likely leaves a trail I couldn’t conceal no matter my efforts. But still, I try, because that’s the only thing I can do now. I can’t run any further, but I can climb. I can push my abused limbs to their limits, strive to touch the one thing that’s eluded dragon men for the last decade since we took away their ability to shift by killing off their potential mates and locking them out of accessing that part of themselves.
I might die, but I will have that brief moment of freedom to console me in death. Even if I’m riddled with bullets at any minute, I’ll have felt something they never will. I’ll drag that fleeting moment of nearly touching the sky to my grave kicking and screaming if I have to, just to spite them.
That taste of freedom is coming with me, strangled in my unrelenting grip until its memory is forced to follow me to the afterlife. I came too goddamn close to miss out on it now, and even if it’s all in my head, I’m going to pretend that when I close my eyes, only peace awaits me.
My muscles are on fire and I’m drenched in sweat, my skin itches something fierce, but I keep going. If I can just get high enough before he catches up to me, he won’t see or sense me. He’ll run right past, I can sleep in the branches, and move on tomorrow. On my next step, the branch breaks off and I lose my footing, crashing down with a strangled cry I quickly bite back. Arms getting beaten to hell as I try to grab something, I give up and fumble the knife out of my pocket. Twigs gouge into my skin as the ground looms ever closer, each stray branch taking a swipe at me, mocking my internal, motivational speech.
Breath whooshes out of my chest on a huff before the ground can get up close and personal with my face, but I go down swinging. I absolutely refuse to only make it one fucking day on my own; that’s just pathetic. My knife drives into a shoulder as I buck, fighting my way free from the man’s grasp. He drops me, and with my knife still firmly clenched in my fist, I tear a gouge through his shoulder as I fall.
Rolling to my feet, I don’t waste a second before starting to bolt. I have no illusions I can overpower anyone; I’ve spent too long malnourished and confined to pretend otherwise. But I can capitalize on his momentary distraction. Five seconds; it can mean the difference between life and death. I don’t have towin,I just need to be smart.
“Saige!” a familiar voice shouts and I snap out of my tunnel vision inducing panic, pause in my escape and nearly face plant from how abruptly I come to a halt.
Glancing over my shoulder, my muscles coil with the adrenaline drowning my system, panting shallow breaths that send sharp pains through my side. A brief glimpse of bright red hair is visible in the muted light and I bend over to grip my knees, my relief making my eyes water.
“Kaiden?”
There’s some arguing behind me that makes me relax, used to their squabbling. The tension starts to gradually ebb, though my heart is about to leap out of my chest with as swiftly as it’s beating.
“Were you just planning on staying up there all night?” Kinsley asks.
I nearly burst into tears, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m relieved to see them, or because if they could find me, what’s stopping anyone else? Hesitantly, I walk back towards them, eyeing everything around me distrustfully.
“We weren’t the ones shooting at you,” Kinsley adamantly declares, eyes wide and pleading for me to believe him.
An amused breath slips out despite the situation as I continue to search the shadows for others. “Of course not, you wouldn’t have missed.”
