She looked behind her, squinting for all she was worth. Her feline-like hearing picked up footsteps. Soft, peculiar footsteps. If she didn't hear the soft crack of sound from combat boots hitting the concrete, she would have thought it was a passing stray cat.
"You're like me." A velvety voice passed through her ears, melting into her brain cells, whispering echoes of the same sentence in her, willing her to sound whatever was in her mind, to uncover herself instead of escaping into the safe haven of the hollowed oak back at home. Home.
"Melanie King... I need to find her.. Let me go.." She whispered. Horrible. She felt like a parrot, without a backbone, repeating what her commands were. But the girl was not to trust.
"And here is Melanie King."
She almost keeled over.
"Where is she? Give her to me," She rasped. Her dry throat ached for water. Her mind ached for reassurance. And somewhere, in the depths of her, she felt the need to kill.
"Give? Isn't that a little harsh?" The feminine voice washed over her, forcing her to focus on the voice. She steeled herself. She was on a mission, she would not be distracted by a measly voice simply because it sounded pretty.
"Not for King. Not for the world."
"And here King comes."
There was an unpenetrable silence hanging in the air as a girl stepped into the dim light of a nearby lamppost. The previous silhouette superimposed on a rosemary shrub was gone. At the same time.
She took a deep breath of the unusually misty air. Blonde hair sparkled, even in the dim light. It was obvious this wasn't just any girl. Combat boots laced around her legs. She was in camouflage gear. Gold bracelets laddered her wrist. Ornaments with gear?
No. Not ornaments. It was a whip. That claimed her skin as fresh prey.
She didn't even let a sound escape her.
