The Hunt

Chapter 1- The Hunter

Cecily's blade swung, hitting its mark as always.

The man's arm fell to the cold grass of the prison with a familiar thud. He let out a blood curdling scream. A warning to the rest. Stay away, the Hunter is here.

That's the name they'd given her, the Hunter. After she cut off the man who tried to rape hers dick with no remorse, they stayed away. She'd made it clear anyone who tried to touch her would be hunted and slaughtered.

Cecily kneeled down, pushing the man's face into the dirt so she could use his back as a seat while she trifled through his belongings.

"You're hurting my ears," she told him, no remorse in her voice. "Quiet down before I really do kill you."

The man bit his lip, well aware that she wasn't lying. Sobs shook him, making for an uncomfortable seat. She, however, didn't particularly feel the need to kill him. It happened, not often, but it did.

"Oh, hush up," she hissed, taking out a bag of rations with her metal hand, "it doesn't hurt that bad."

With her good, human hand, she dropped the plastic bag of food into her own satchel. She pushed up, off the man back.

As the lithe huntress was about to walk away, bag slung over her shoulder, brushing against her autumn colored braid, she turned back to him.

"Consider yourself lucky," she said, no hatred in her voice, there never was. "Consider yourself lucky that you didn't do anything stupid. And even luckier if one of the scum bagged criminals in here feel a little light in their hearts and help you. Consider yourself luckier if you die there."

With that, her old black and white Nike sneakers carried her off into the brush of the huge prison.

When she was far enough from the man who was probably being robbed or beaten, maybe even eaten, by the scavengers, she slowed. Taking in a breath, she found herself in the forest like prison. For the last four years, she'd made it her home.

A loud buzzing drew her from her calm. She always hated that sound. It was too unnatural for her. Ironic, she though, flexing her robotic hand, and hypocritical.

But the sound meant fresh meat. Fresh meat meant trackers. She found that, instead of hunting the fresh meat and supplies, it was easier to hunt the vultures that followed. There were plenty of hungry prisoners who'd go after the fresh mouse they let in. But there was only one mouse to lure them.

Cecily liked her catagories for the prisoners. They kept her calm and let her plan. Of course, being a hunter, it was entirely based off a food chain.

At the bottom, the mice and the scavengers. Of course, she saw the mice a little higher up. A mouse could rise. A scavenger was a lifestyle. After that, you had the birds, mostly she called them hawks. They kept to the trees and hunted with bows and arrows, swooping in after their prey was was disabled. Then the wolves, who hunted down prey in packs and clans. Then, the vultures, who preyed on the weak.

No, that order was wrong. She thought more highly of the wolves than the vultures.

She cursed herself for her inappropriate ordering as she hopped over a root.

After the wolves, there were the foxes. The animal may have been looked down upon by many in real life, but she always loved their wits. They were the thinkers. The ones who could set traps. Sometimes though, they became wolves for a target. Then, at the top of the god damned prisons food chain was her, the hunter.

Of course, normal women were in a class of their own. Yes, it was called the whore class. Women had no rights here, no power. Some though, were the strongest foxes. She was careful not to hunt them. Every once and a while, she even conversed with a friendly vulpine. Sometimes they traded. Other than that, women were raped daily.