Game Of Survival •in editing•

14 First Man Down

We travel at night. A very dangerous game to play in any city of any kingdom. Night is where monsters lurk; whether they be man or beast. The festival ended in the dregs of night, an eerie silence envelopes the forest until the trees are the only living things among us. At least, I hope so. There's always something there.

That feeling of wrongness that settled in my stomach from earlier has now dug it's heels into my spine, slowing branching out to tug at my veins and heartstrings. I glance back to see Arman staring right at me. I scowl, whipping back around. The man gives me creepy chills every time I look at him. He's making me sick with anticipation to see him gone. But that shall pass when it does.

For now I watch the trees. I watch the way the trees sway. The stars. The little creatures that skitter under the fallen leaves. There are no birds. No usual sounds of the mockingbird echoing in every direction. Growing up in a small village near one of the forest boarders taught you one thing; birds are the first to escape danger.

I lean backward, the General's chest against my upper back. "Don't you think it's too silent?"

He glances around, his mask is still on but I can gauge his reactions just from his body language. He thinks the same. "I think...you're a little too close to me."

"Is it causing you to lose concentration General? I can always ride with someone else."

"As much as I would love that, rules are rules."

"And whose rules are they?"

He's silent but I don't have time to smile. Goosebumps trail along my arms and legs. Dread settles on my spine. "Something's wrong." I mutter. The General finally heeds my word, slowing the horse down to a gentle kilter.

"What're you talking about?"

"It's too silent. I know it is. I don't think we're the only ones here."

The General doesn't hesitate. His fist goes up in a ninety degree angle. We slow to a stop. I don't hear what he whispers to the others, maybe a command to scout the perimeter on muted feet. I sense that it's not my words he's triggered by, but he too feels something off. It's second nature for fighters to sense when an actual fight may be imminent. In a world of disloyalty and enemies, that sense is sharper than ever.

Although I need the General believing every lie that exits my mouth, this time—I do not pretend. I need to remember that if I go down, he goes down with me, and vice versa. My skin tingles with anticipation and dread, like pairs of eyes honing in on my every movement. There's nothing in the trees, the Guards return from their perimeter check. Arman is the last one to return, though I suspect why. He eyes me warily, but not enough to give the information I need. Instead, I glance to where he scouted.

"Untie me." I demand. The others cannot hear us as I lean against him, my mouth closer to his ear.

"I don't take orders from you."

"The last time you did, I saved your life. This is not a matter of question. I have many things I wish to speak to you about, and it cannot be done when I'm dead."

"Say it now then." His eyes narrow, a challenge spark in them. Now was not the time for challenges. There is a newfound wariness buried in their depths, and I did not have the time to analyse it before an arrow swishes by my ear and dives into the horse's side. She whinnies and falters, throwing us both off the left side, before she canters away. I lay on my side, watching the General frantically untie my rope.

"If you dare do anything stupid—"

"I think we're past the point of you thinking I'm not going to do anything smart either. You're in danger, General. And so am I."  I see the seed I plant dig their roots quickly into his brain, his eyes scanning mine wildly. The information I must hold. How did I come about this at all. Why was it me? Why was it him?  All questions he's itching to ask me once we get out of here alive. I see it awaken in him—temporary trust and determination. It'll do for now.