The Hunt

Chapter 41: Naya

Run Naya, run.

My breath is strangled in the crisp air, and my feet scamper across the ground. Tree branches blur by, reaching out with their gnarled claws and tearing at my limbs.

I risk a glance backwards, but through my hair and my hood, I can't see anything.

I know they're close. I can hear their footsteps, louder than mine. I can hear their organized commands, their practiced communication. Faint whispers, belonging to a coordinated group of assassins.

I first heard them two nights ago, and managed to get away before they could flank me. Who knows how long I've been running for, almost three days. I only take short breaks when there's enough cover, and I have a clear escape route.

But what scares me the most is the gunshots. I noticed they were firing at me when they got close, and that's when I realized they had guns. I can fight men with knives, but men with firearms are a completely different case. I have to keep darting around, keep just out of reach, and be unpredictable. I'll collapse in exhaustion before I let them get a clear shot of me.

The muscles in my body are numb, but not cold. I can feel the sweat underneath my clothes, building up and then freezing as I run. That's not what bothers me. I need food and water.

Weaving between trees, that have seemingly gotten closer together, I watch the ground as I run so I don't stumble. I hear footsteps behind me to my right, and plant my foot, darting to the left. Another bullet, shattering the bark on the tree next to me.

"Don't kill her, just injure!" I hear them shout.

The trees are so close together. Why are they so close? And then I see a bend around a huge boulder, and I remember this place. I know this area, it was part of my trip to Tanek, the old trail I would take to get supplies.

A plan starts to form in my mind. Something that might shake them and give me an edge.

And like all my other schemes, I can start to see it, all mapped out in my mind as I run. I listen closely for a certain sound. One that I know will be coming up soon. Running water.

My path veers downhill, and I glance back up again. No one.

And just as I checked behind my shoulder, I hear it, ever so faintly.

There it is, a small stream, snaking through skeletons of bushes in a ditch. I slow down and crouch next to a cluster of trees, balancing on the roots.

I hear a pulse in my head, and my muscles ache because they aren't moving anymore. My chest heaves, but I resist the urge to take in deep gulps of air, to risk my silence. I scan my surroundings; it's just how I remember it. A ditch, probably once holding a large river, with a sandy ground. The layer on top is dried grass and twigs that'll make it hard to move quietly, but other than that, it should work perfectly.

Mikkel and his pack are smart. They should know I need water, they'll know I'm stopping to drink as soon as they see the ditch.

If only I had my knife, this plan would be so much easier.

I hear something now, and assuming it's my pursuers, I hop down into the ditch. I crawl over to the stream and cup my hands, dipping them into the cool water. It's so cold it bites at the skin of my clammy hands. Although this is all part of my plan, I've never felt so refreshed and grateful for the feeling of water trickling down my throat.

That's when I see movement in my peripheral vision. Perfect timing.

I don't wait for him. Right when I hear the slight shift of sand, I spin around. The back of my hand connects with his neck, and a choking sound comes from him. I kick at his knees and they buckle with a crunch.