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𝟏𝐱𝟎𝟏 | 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭
...🗡...
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓, 𝐽𝐸𝑅𝐼𝐶𝐻𝑂
𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓
The rhythmic crunch of boots on fallen leaves grew louder with every frantic beat of my heart. My lungs burned, pleading for rest, but there was none. I was a rabbit pursued by wolves, the scent of danger thick in the humid air. A fallen branch tore at my sleeve as I weaved through the undergrowth, the sharp tang of pine needles assaulting my senses.
Suddenly, a strong arm clamped over my mouth, stifling the gasp that threatened to escape. I twisted in a desperate struggle, but the arm held firm, dragging me behind the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak. Peeking through the leaves, I saw a group of hunters clad in camouflage hurtle past, their voices a cacophony of curses and confusion.
"Where'd she go?" One bellowed, his voice coarse with frustration.
"Split up!" Another barked. "She can't have vanished into thin air!"
The thud of their boots grew fainter as they fanned out through the woods, the metallic glint of their rifles catching the sunlight like malevolent eyes. Relief washed over me in a tidal wave, leaving me trembling against the tree's rough bark.
Then, a hand slid over my eyes, blinding me. Before I could react, a familiar voice, laced with a dangerous edge, whispered against my ear. "Don't move."
"John," I breathed, recognizing him instantly despite the fear that choked my voice.
His grip tightened. "Don't. Make. A. Sound," he hissed, each word punctuated by the pressure of his fingers.
Minutes stretched into an eternity. The only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the frantic hammering of my heart. Finally, the distant voices and pounding footsteps faded completely. Only then did John remove his hand, his dark eyes searching mine.
John released me, stepping back with a sigh. Relief mingled with a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. "What do you want, John?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Makaria?" He raised a brow, a sardonic smile twisting his lips.
"Friends?" I scoffed the word, leaving a metallic tang on my tongue.
My hands clenched tightly by my side, channeling my frustration. Tendrils of lightning pulsed over my skin, crackling a silent warning.
John, a hunter like the ones that were sent to kill me, spared me once, but he was all like the other, eager for my demise.
"I'm here to collect on that favor you owe me." He said.
My muscles tensed.
Favors were a dangerous currency in our world. They often came with strings attached that could bind your very essence.
