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Prey.
Yes.
I pause long enough to bend down and scoop some water into my cupped hands. It’s clear and very cold, and I’m so thirsty I’m tempted to take a sip or two. But, even city girl that I am, I know better than to risk drinking it, so I confine myself to splashing some of it on my face and neck. Then I wade across the stream, careful not to slip on the smooth stones as the water ripples over my feet and swirls around my ankles.
Just as I reach the middle I hear a twig snap, and pulse racing, I glance to my right.
A doe stands with her front feet in the water, her huge brown eyes staring at me. And I smile—I can’t help it. In this moment I feel a sort of kinship, as if I understand her on some deep level, as if she understands me in return. Both of us prey. She lowers her head to drink for several moments in which I am filled with a sort of awe and joy and unity. Then she lifts her dainty feet and walks off up the creek bed, disappearing around a bend, and I smile after her, standing there watching as she retreats.
Then there’s another sound. Footsteps?
Must get moving.
On the other side of the creek I climb the bank, and as I reach the top I hear a series of muffled gunshots. Crouching behind a bush with my heart once again a hammer in my chest, I peer around to see a Hunter with a gun shooting at a female slave, splattering her in blue paint.
Paintball.
Thank god that’s all it is. Did I really think they’d have bullets?
Maybe I did. This whole adventure has been an extraordinary mindfuck in a way nothing has ever been before.
She goes down with a groan. I’ve heard the paintballs hurt like hell. But this I can handle.
I stay crouched, quiet, as he walks over to her and yanks her upright by the hair. He pulls a walkie-talkie from his belt and speaks into it.
“I’ve got one! Coming in.”
He drags her off by her hair, and I can only imagine her fate.
Will she be put into a cage? Used for the entertainment of all the Hunters? Made to run again? Or kept for his personal abuse?
This is the true mindfuck, isn’t it? Keeping us guessing. And it’s working like a fucking charm. I have no idea what will happen to me if I am caught. Or what might happen if I’m not. Will the punishment be worse if I’m able to elude them?
Another surge of fear runs through me, goosebumps rising on my skin, and I run to the right, following the edge of the creek until I lose it completely. I keep running, legs pumping, lungs on fire, but I can’t stop. Not now. Not ever. I don’t understand what this is, what will happen. I was told to run, and I do, tears streaming down my face.
I dash into a small clearing and have a split second to realize my foot is caught in something before I hear a sharp snap, and I am lifted—no, not lifted, but snapped up as if into the jaws of a great beast. I scream as a net swallows me and I fly up into the air. I hang there in midair, fighting against the net, but I know I am trapped.
No. I have been trapped. This is the oldest hunting trick in the book, isn’t it?
I’m held tight in the net as I swing from a tree branch, all of my limbs crouched and tight against my body. How long before someone finds me?
One hand is free enough for me to wipe the tears from my eyes.
Stop it.
I’m so fucking mad that I’m crying, and soon I’m angry enough to quiet my tears.
The net is made of rough, toothy rope, and it digs into my skin, but it’s not too bad. The bad part is wondering if I’m to be left here all night.
Time passes, but I don’t know if it’s been an hour or ten minutes. I tell myself to wait. Not that I really have any other option.
Inhale, exhale.
I’ve been made to wait often enough, haven’t I? This is no different than being chained up at the foot of my Mistress’s bed, awaiting her pleasure—or her pain.
“Ah, there she is,” a male voice says. He has a slight accent I can’t quite identify. “Our prize, Erek.”
“Oh, this is excellent, Séverin. It’s a Girl, yes? Let’s get her down and take a good look at her.”
