Terror

Chapter Nine

Emma rested her head on a woollen blanket, her eyes closed. This wasn't how she envisioned her return to Sunny's, but she couldn't control when people got injured.

"Try not to vomit your insides," Esme quipped.

"Maybe you should stop for a bit," Angel chided.

Emma shook her head slowly, though a sudden wave of nausea washed over her, hollowing her stomach. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself upright.

She stared at Esme's scarred face. Most of it was healed, but some parts weren't. Her skin was still covered with wounds that made Emma's stomach turn.

"I feel fine, Emma," Esme said as she bounced on her toes.

"You can't fight because you need more time to heal," Emma explained.

"Ashley won't be able to catch me," Esme stated.

"There was a sighting!" Xander called out as he pushed aside the tarp entrance go the makeshift infirmary.

Emma lifted her head slowly and tried it to crawl over toward him. "Are Greyson and Jason around?" she managed to ask.

"I think," Xander said.

Esme darted forward before Emma could respond. "Let's go find them!" she shouted, grabbing Emma's wrist.

"Wait—" Emma began, but her protest turned into a yelp as Esme tugged her upright.

Esme moved too quickly, and Emma couldn't keep up. Her feet tangled beneath her, and before she knew it, she was face-first in the grass coughing and groaning.

Esme barely slowed down, still gripping Emma's wrist like a leash."Someone fast," she muttered, eyes scanning around camp.

Emma lay still for a moment, trying to catch her breath as her stomach churned again. Around them, the camp buzzed with low voices and rustle movements.

Someone fast.

Could Ashley be mocking them? Zooming through camp just to prove she could? No—not with the mutant child's birth changing everything. Ashley wouldn't risk exposure now.

"Let me heal the rest of your face," Emma groaned, still lying in the grass.

She remembered how bad Esme's injuries looked days ago. The deep gashes, the whip marks—some had healed, but too many were still raw and wide open. Infection was a risk. The last thing Esme needed was some festering fungus setting in.

Before Emma could say more, Esme suddenly pointed at a tent. "Who?"

Emma followed her gaze and blinked. A young small girl stood a few yards away, narrowed- shoulders and no taller than a ten-year-old, but her stance was confident, almost commanding.

"How can you run fast?" Esme demanded, stepping forward.

"Because I can," the girl answered simply.

Emma sat up, squinting. The girl had long dark hair braided neatly down her back, and wore a pink jumpsuit that looked out of place and oddly fitting. But it was her eyes—sharp, bright blue—that made Emma's breath hitch.

She knew those eyes.

Or rather, she had seen them in someone else.

Footsteps crushed the grass behind the girl, and Scarlett approached, moving with her usual confidence.

"Zane wants to talk to you," she said, placing a hand in the girl's head.

"Okay, Mom," Cassandra replied without hesitation.