Anthem

Chapter 1 - Reagan

           Reagan cursed as she fell.
           "Shit," she breathed, panting heavily.
           She couldn't afford mistakes, not now, not when she was minutes away from safety. Her comrades had split up during their dash through the bush land, and she knew that some had gone down the wrong route. They'd all probably die anyway. She was alone, the sun was on its way into the west, and the insects of the night began to swarm. She had to find berries, and hopefully a sheltered cave to keep from the inevitable rain... She slashed the overhanging branches in front of her with her hunting knives. Fine scratches already lined her face, courtesy of a spiky shrub she had hurtled through. Dirt streaked across her forehead, certainly infecting several of the cuts, but it didn't matter—nothing did anymore.
                Reagan stopped. If nothing mattered why was she running? She would just stay here and accept her fate. She could hear their shouts now. Closer, closer. She heard their crunching footsteps, making no effort to be quiet. She would die. They were right behind her, but she didn't turn around. Leave her killer's identity a mystery, then.
             Something barrelled overhead. She heard it's whistle as it shot through the air, grazing her shoulder as it went. An arrow. It embedded itself—hard—into a fat tree. Her heart hammered in her chest, screaming at her to run, run, run. The Xori's Scouts had improved their aim it seemed—last time they attacked they missed by metres. Nevertheless, the sturdy arrow, tipped with gold was deadly. She snatched it from the tree and shoved it into her satchel.
           Muscular arms suddenly wrapped around her, hauling her backwards as she was thrown onto strong shoulders. Male. She lay limp, doing her best acting job of a weak, helpless girl. Although, her head was sore from being smashed into the stranger's back.
She gasped in pain but then welcomed it.
             He continued running. Her head moved in time with his legs; up, down, up, down, left, right, left, right. Leaves kissed her face and branches reached out for her as the man sprinted through the forest. Reagan could feel the gouge in her shoulder, could see the red rolling in streams down her arm as the blood-loss continued. Slowly, damn it. A steady stream of metallic-tasting warmth trickled down her neck and into her mouth as she lay flopped over the man's own shoulder. She wiped her mouth on the stranger's yellow shirt as she continued to bleed. Finally her assassin stopped. He dropped her inside a large oak tree, the trunk hollow and barely big enough for the both of them. He surged forward.
Good, it was over.
           "What are you doing?" the male voice growled into her ear, the sound seeming to echo within the tree. She awaited the fatal blow... it never came.
           "Answer me!" the same voice hissed, shaking her this time.
           Reagan slowly lifted her head, and her eyes snapped to a menacingly buff young man. He hadn't been unfortunate in his looks either, she begrudgingly admitted to herself. What did it matter? She could have sworn Death had joined them in the woods anyway. She struggled in his grasp, urging to break free, her desire to run suddenly restored. She had no idea where it came from, but she bolted, her hands leaving red stains on the tree. Swift as the wind, whipping between the trees and feeling the wonderfully cool breeze on her skin, nipping at her open shoulder. It was almost blissful, really. Is that what it felt like to be free?
            She almost fell flat on her face when someone gripped her wrist and yanked—hard. She slammed into a pretty solid tree, too. And her shoulder—it also felt the tree's force. That would leave another mark.
           "Talk. Now."
What was he saying? His words didn't make sense. She heard them but it was as if she had lost her ability to register meaning. She clutched the arrow, blood caked her hands.
           She should have seen it coming. The Xori could easily outrun her. She'd known that—hadn't she? She didn't give it a second thought before looking up. What a waste of a life she had been.
           His unbelievably clear eyes glared at hers. The thoughts returned. She was a waste. She was a fool. But she wasn't ready... What was the point anymore? He was a bastard though. She hated the world for what it had made her do. She hated him for coming to end her, even if that was what she wanted.
            "Look at me! Listen, I don't care if you want me here or not. You're coming with me, and if you don't cooperate, I'll drag you by your feet. Understand?"
She didn't reply, even as his nails dug into her flesh, a faint sting biting her shoulder. Curse him for seeing her intentions. She could tell he understood her in a cruel way. He knew that she would prefer death to the torture and had—
He smacked the heel of his palm into her head. She was out.

+++

           When Reagan at last opened her eyes, he was staring at her. She glared at him, but he didn't glance away. Ugh, why hadn't he just killed her? This was practically hell anyway. Ignorant, stubborn jerk.
           "You gonna talk now?" he sighed.
           She glanced around, taking in her surroundings. Trees. Hundreds of them. She was still in the forest, though she was laid out on a worn straw bed. She blinked slowly as she looked around: she was in a small hut with large, empty windows with thin, white curtains. Wooden flooring, seven bamboo supportive beams to hold up the thatched water reed roof. She groaned as a piercing pain shot through her head when she tried to sit up.
           "What did you do?" she managed to choke out, her voice low and gravelly.
           "Sedative," he said coolly, "Keeps you out."
           "You- You searched me?" she spat.
           If he had laid a finger on her blades she would—
           She was out again.

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