Ninjago X Reader

Ninja x Reader - Lost

"I swear I've seen this park bench already..." You mutter, hugging yourself more tightly as the sun continues to sink beyond the horizon.

"At least I know I'm still in Ninjago City. But the Birch-whatever forest's right there, and it surrounds almost the whole city... I really should have learned my address sooner..." You continue talking to yourself in an attempt to keep panic at bay, knowing full-well that you were hopelessly lost. You'd moved into the city only a week ago, and didn't even know the general area of the city you lived yet. It didn't help that you'd just gotten a new cell phone and your home-phone number had also been changed. You can't even call home to figure out where to go!

"Guess I should have thought a little more ahead than this..." You continue, glancing around nervously as shadows rapidly grow longer. "For all I know, I could be on the opposite side of the city from home..." You begin to walk faster, thinking for a moment that you heard a twig snap behind you. Choking down the irrational fear that's begun to build up, you decide it's really just something in the forest, an animal who has no interest in leaving its home to attack an innocent girl, and not some weirdo following you to... wherever it is you're going.

"I wonder if Mom's noticed... Heh, I did say I would be home by 8..." You say, trying to keep the quaver out of your voice. (Sorry if you don't have a Mom... Wanna talk about it?) Glancing at the sun, now only barely a golden line in the mountains, you know you're already late.

Snap! Another broken twig. This time, you jump, fighting the urge to break into a run.

"No one, it's no one. Probably just a rabbit, running to find a better hiding spot in the grass. That is... the most logical explanation..."

Darn it, that sun's setting too fast, you think. The sun isn't even visible any more, just a pink glow reflecting off the clouds. It's getting harder to see where you're going, and your cruel author has decided that it's also begun to rain, starting as only a light drizzle, although the thick, black clouds above your head promise an impressive storm.

Shivering lightly as the rain patters against your light jacket, you realize something new; your footsteps are echoing. In certain circumstances, that would make sense, but with the wind picking up speed, it doesn't. The echo, you think, would probably blow away with the wind. Either you're making an undereducated guess or you're being followed.

"Don't be stupid, (y/n), now you're just being illogical. You're letting your fear get to you..." You trail off, a shiver traveling down your spine. This time, however, you're not sure if it's because of the cold or the fact that the echoes of your footsteps are getting louder. You swallow hard and consider turning around to see if anyone is, in fact, following you, but your fear compels you to keep walking without looking back.

"If someone is following me and I turn around to look, I'll only make it worse for myself."

Then again, thinking aloud will, too. You think.

Yet another twig snaps and you gasp lightly, shivering harder as the raindrops get bigger.

The echo is faster paced than my own footsteps!! You think with panic. Remembering something you read on Facebook (come on, we all do...), you try not to walk faster, making yourself appear more confident. You're shaking hard now, still unsure as to whether you're cold or afraid, and feel a spike of fear course through your chest as the echo gets only faster.

You glance quickly to your left and right, realizing that absolutely no one else is around, that you are entirely alone in this park, and as the last of the sun fades and the rain truly begins to pour, you decide at this point that, regardless of what you should be doing, you'd rather be safe than sorry, and the only thing you can come up with is to full on sprint your butt to safety. But you're not exactly the most athletic or speedy little thing, and when you realize that the nearest populated area is out of audio-range, every irrational thought makes itself known.