Shadowwalker - Under Review For Now

7. Chase

Her footsteps were gentle as she ran over the cobblestones, her soft leather boots muffling almost all sound and her breathing was fast yet even as she panted.

Unlike the last night's previous mad dash to escape, this time Amber was the one chasing, hot on the assassin's trail despite the delay.
Her pace was steady and controlled as she practically flew around corners, at times planting a foot on the wall so she wouldn't have to slow down as she turned.
She felt herself coming truly alive, her eyes shining with grim satisfaction as adreline pumped through her veins.

She finally caught a glimpse of him ahead of her, and she noticed that he was, in fact, not much older than herself.

He stopped, and she froze, grabbing onto a crate to help halt her sprint as her cloak swung around, enveloped her in darkness.

The assassin turned around, and looked straight into the shadows, watching the crates behind which Amber concealed herself.

She refused to move, knowing that as long as she remained stock-still he would be unable to see her, and drew slow, muted breaths. All the same, it was unnerving the way he seemed to be looking straight into her eyes.

It took every ounce of her willpower to not move one single muscle.

She shivered, but not from the cold.

He turned around slowly. And instantly whipped back around.

"Ahah! Oh..."

Frowning at the fact that his bluff hadn't given him any results, he narrowed his eyes, and studied his surroundings, his ragged breaths the only sound they could hear.

His eyes darted around, and, finally, he slumped against the wall, exhausted.

Amber gave him a scrutinising look, and then slowly moved closer, doing her best as to not make a single sound.

Now that his head wasn't concealed by his hood, she could finally identify his facial features.

He had dirty blond hair, which seemed to have a habit of falling into his, 'what was it, blue?', eyes. He had fair skin, a strong jawline, and gorgeous high cheekbones.

Amber mentally kicked herself for fawning over the criminal in front of her.

Then she realised that she was probably not much better than him, if at all.

And then she remembered she had other, more important matters to attend to than gorgeous high cheekbones and a yet to be concluded eyecolour.

The young man was emptying his pockets, and started taking an inventory of what he had taken.

Standing on her toes, she groaned inwardly, as she couldn't quite see what he was doing.

From a hidden pocket, he retrieved a sealed scroll- and proceeded to bend over it.

Trying to remain soundless, Amber started to carefully climb on top as to attain a better view, when he started mumbling to himself.

"Blast it," he muttered. "Blast it all. Why must I alwa-"

The crate creaked. Eyes widening, she tried to stand still, but this time he was the one to freeze.

Amber wobbled.

Time seemed to slow down as he started to turn towards her.

She wobbled again, when, tp her horror, the crate toppled over in slow motion before landing with a large CRASH, shattering, and Amber somehow managed to fall on top of him.

"Oof!"

The assassin acted instinctively.

As she fell, he rapidly turned around as he stepped forward, grabbed her wrists, and caught her.

They paused for a moment.

He then slammed her against the wall.

His left forearm was placed against her neck, so that she struggled to breathe.

His legs were on either side of hers, so she couldn't escape.

And his right hand was trying to tuck away the scroll in one of his many pockets.

Her eyes widened, her breath literally caught  in her throat and her heart hammered so hard in her chest she could almost hear the blood pounding through her veins in that moment of pure terror.

His eyes -'yes, blue. Electric blue'- were cold as he spoke.

"Who sent you?"