Side Effects

Chapter Ten: A Natural,

Halia's POV

Today was going to be a good day. From the earthy smells coming from the forest, to the beautiful sunrise on the beach, the good vibes were contagious. I looked down at me bright pink Nike running shoes, studying the close to work out edges, and faint pinky streaks that stained my shoe from the track. I really did miss running, I thought.

As I trekked deeper into the forest next to the beach, I thought about my passion for running. My whole junior year, I hadn't felt motivated enough to join the cross country and track and field teams. A long time ago, joining the two teams wouldn't be such a difficult choice. But, the word 'running' always sounded different after I escaped my captors.

A familiar land mark started to come in view. The biggest redwood tree in the forest--I called her Bertha--loomed regally a few feet away from me. Ever since I inhabited Jenner, I knew I would have to explore and find my own nooks and crannies. Bertha was basically my cranny (cause you know, nooks are usually small and such). It was so huge that you could make it out from a distance. Whenever I was stressed out with the pressure of trying to become reinstated as a spy, I would always run laps in the woods, always starting and ending with Bertha. The woods soothed the tension I felt; the running part was something I enjoyed.

Overtime, it became a habit; I would wake up at 5am everyday and run for thirty minutes before school. I know, it's crazy, but it's what I live to do.

So here I am, at 5:03am on Saturday morning, ready to run. I placed my ear buds in, the song "Catch Fire" by 5 Seconds of Summer calming me. And I started my run.

I said farewell to Bertha, and went on my way. The one thing that was useful about a forest conveniently situated near a beach were the views; I could run for five minutes west and find a perfect view of the gradual beach sun rise. For probably about a mile, I ran next to the coast, then went back into the forest.

God, I love the smell of redwoods and evergreens.

My ponytail flapped enthusiastically against the back of my head as I increased my pace slightly. Since I wasn't near the cliffs leading up to the coast, I didn't have to worry about falling to my death. Simple, no?

The early-morning fog was definitely annoying to navigate through, but I had created my own landmarks over the last couple of months. After running here for a week, I brought down my carving knife and I drew a couple of small x's on trunks to let me know where I was in my route.

I know I know. I should just use the actual walking trails. I just didn't want to be seen here; people needed to know as little about me as possible. A simple task like running had gotten me spotlighted at school. During pe, people would catcall and ask me "Why aren't you on the cross country team." Drawing attention wasn't allowed at all, but I let myself enjoy my one joy. Not to mention, seeing people anywhere was annoying. I don't want to risk me saying "hello" to a neighbor or teacher or anybody at all.

I could clearly see my mom screaming at me, saying that I would blow my cover. I shook the unpleasant thought from my brain and continued running.

The thing about running was simple: if you let yourself become fully emerged into the action, it took you under. Kind of like the ocean and tidal waves. When the endorphins kick in, my instructors at academy said, it made your body feel happy.

Which was why running was easy to me, and had come naturally. Finding your breaking point, or when the endorphins kicked in, was second nature. Probably also why I loved the beach, the natural crash of ocean and the cause of the fog I was breathing in on my run. Even thought annoying, it made the forest look magical. Straight out of a Lord of The Rings movie-magical. Wasn't that franchise shot in New Zealand?

I then occupied myself with a memory of one of my first missions, which, coincidently, occurred in New Zealand. I was thirteen then, and bursting for the chance to show off my skills. Most of what I remembered were running and jumping from rooftops, Batman-style. Yes, I did just compare myself to Batman.

Too soon, Big Bertha was emerging from the distance and my run was over. I swore this time I went slower, I claimed, and looked at my clock.

5:45

I sat down on a stump near Bertha, checking my phone notifications and messages. Becoming distracted was not a good habit, but lately it's been harder to control.

Which is probably why I didn't hear the foot steps until they were a mere 10 feet away from me. The rustle of quickening footsteps aha isn't the twigs and branches alerted me out of my stupor. I took note on how the perpetrator did not seem to be hiding his or her foot steps, and tracks. Great, that means whoever it is means business.

Elusively, I climbed into the branches of Big Bertha by hopping from a lower tree to the branches of Bertha. The roughness of the bark against my fingers caused scratches, and my left pinkie fingernail had broken from clumsily trying to scale a tree as fast as possible. Lovely.

I awaited the arrival of whoever it was.