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˗ˏˋ ON THE RUN 'ˎ˗ (𝗓𝗎𝗄𝗈 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋) — 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 2591 — pov: 3rd
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She was sprinting, ignoring the pounding in her ears as best as she could. She was trying to focus on the heavy footsteps behind her, drawing closer in quick succession, trying to keep track of their progress on her. It was a whole crowd, but a fraction of the army that was hunting her down.
No, not her specifically, but her people.
She had to get to her mother and brother. She couldn't be captured; she had to survive. She would never survive prison. She's only seventeen, having barely lived a life!
The girl was sprinting through the forest, not only trying to ignore the pain in her feet and pounding of her heart but also the warmth that licked her back uncomfortably. The crowd chasing her were all Firebenders, attempting to capture her for whatever reason.
If she hadn't stayed behind to help Miss Xia from the village, she would've been in her mother's arms in the hiding spot safely, patiently waiting for the army to finish off the village and move on.
Sweat beaded on her hairline, dripping down her forehead and cheeks and falling into her eyes. She kept running, though, because her other option was being captured.
"CATCH THAT GIRL!" The voice was young, immature — a boy commanding. He sounded furious, though, like he was going to kill her himself. "DON'T LET HER GET AWAY!"
She weaved through the trees, gasping and clutching her arm after dragging it against the rough bark of one. She pulled her hand back and glared at the small smudge of red over the pads of her fingers before braking back into her sprint. She tried to kick off her shoes because they were starting to slip, but she had to dart around to avoid the shooting flames from the soldiers on her trail.
"YOU IDIOTS!"
She shouted when her back exploded into awful pain, a burning sensation that irritated her from her shoulders to the back of her knees. She fell forward solidly, knocking her chin against a stray tree root and cutting it open.
A pair of black leather boots stomped up beside her head, and she was reared back by a harsh yank on her hair to look up at the owner of the boots. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her chest at that moment.
The left side of his face was marred, his eye hidden underneath the wrinkled scar over his eye. That wasn't what made the girl terrified — rather, it was the unscarred half of his face because of the unadulterated hatred in his eyes. It was the snarl he sent her way as he hauled her to her feet, trying her hands behind her back with a thick, irritating rope. The fear was because sheknewhim.
