The Hunt

Chapter 39: Naya

It was easy enough to get away from Mikkel. The drunken idiot couldn't even lift a finger to stop me.

It's been days though, maybe even a week. I don't keep track of time enough to know. All I am sure of is that Mikkel is sober now, and his pack is going to find me and kill me.

As I sit in the notch between a fallen log and another tree, I can feel the bitter wind whip at my coat, and the growling of my stomach eat away at my thoughts.

I'm sharpening the small knife that I stole from Mikkel. It's rusted and dull, but at least it's something.

I miss my own knife more than ever.

Furthermore, Mikkel's pack now has the electronic device from the city. Sure, they don't know how to use it like me, but they'll find out eventually. And when they do, they are going to have the advantage that I once had.

I hear the snap of branches and the shuffle of feet walking through the undergrowth. I stop sharpening the knife and flatten myself even more against the tree. Silent breathing Naya, calm down. They'll hear you.

The sounds have stopped but I don't trust the silence.

That's when I see them. Two men, one is much younger than the other. They look freezing and starved, like most exiles do, but they also look more alive and hungry than I am. They're snaking through the trees, glancing around and holding their knives out like they're ready to attack anything that moves.

There's no way I'm going to stay hidden. There isn't enough vegetation this time of year to hide well enough. Even though I'm small and my coat and pants blend with the dry log, it's broad daylight.

My mind races. My heart beats faster. If these men are part of Mikkel's pack, I'll be dead in no time. Even if they're just hungry exiles, they won't let me go without blood on their hands.

Footsteps scrape against the roots of the tree to my right.

Without thinking, I pluck a piece of bark from the tree behind me and throw it against a tree to my left.

The men flinch and spin around to face the tree I hit. They exchange glances but don't move towards it.

I curse silently and take another piece of bark, bigger this time, and throw it to my right. The light thump is enough to turn the men back around, so they're facing away from my tree. However, that just makes them move away from me.

I glance around again, taking in every tree and every angle. I need to get the exiles in front of me with their backs towards my tree, so I can run.

I take a piece of bark from by my ear, and throw it as far as I can ahead of me. The commotion is enough to get the men's attention. They start moving. I brace myself to jump up and run around the tree. If I run straight in the other direction the tree should shield me for a good amount of time, enough to get away.

They're a few yards in front of me, and I'm about to run, when the older one looks behind him.

Before he can open his mouth I leap over the log and slash the knife at his throat. He crumples to the ground with a moan and warm blood spurts from his throat onto my hand.

So much for running.

The younger guy is in too much shock to do something right away, so I turn and sprint past the tree I was hiding in front of. My feet thud on the dry ground and stumble over roots and rocks.

The guy catches up, surprising me with his speed. He grabs the back of my hood and rips at my coat. I shed my big coat, knowing I'll freeze without it, but it does throw the man off.

The sudden drop in the ground catches me off guard and I trip a little, enough so that the man can tackle me to the ground. I roll onto my back and fight to free my hand with the knife in it. His elbow smashes into my recently recovered face, and I stifle a cry as the pain comes back in full force.

He has my body pinned down with his legs, but when I kick at him, his weight shifts enough for me to pull out my arm.

My knife goes into his gut with a satisfying squelch, right underneath his ribs. He chokes and I shove him off of me.

I'm on my feet now, but I'm feeling light headed, and blood is running into my eyes. I wipe it from my face and spit on the ground in triumph. The man is moaning on the ground and clutching the stab wound, that was a lot deeper than I had intended.

Might as well use his life while I can.

I crouch over him, grab his collar and hoist him up where he can talk.

"You put up a good fight," I say.

"You're a girl," he responds.

That's always what they say, I'm used to it.

"Where did you two come from? Part of a pack?"

He spits in my face. I stab him again, a little to the left this time, hoping I miss the heart. I cover his mouth with my hand so I muffle his scream.

"Are you working for someone?"

I let go of his mouth and he heaves a sob, before murmuring, "We were just passing through, they said to look for a girl who had escaped."

I curse and glance around, "Are any of them with you?"

"No," he whimpers.

"You're lying!" I growl.

He shakes and moans, "Please let me go, I swear I won't tell the pack, I swear I'll-"

His plea fades to gurgling as I slit his throat.

But right when I look up, I hear scattered footsteps, and see a figure running away. The bastard was lying. There was one more of them, and now he's seen me, and I'm back on the run.

I curse silently, put the knife back by my waist, and step over the mangled body of the man as I run away.