\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1792947-2o
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: 18+ · Other · Horror/Scary · #1792947
Instinct, intelligence, intuition and imagination. The four I's of survival in the world.
Prologue          



The thunder started as a soft crackle and then transformed into a noise much like a cannon shot. Rhyli felt the vibrations of the sound under her feet as she paused behind a great  oak to catch her breath. She leaned against the rough bark, glad to have something to hold her up as her legs were almost incapable. Traveling for almost two days straight with little to eat and even less sleep did that to people.          



She heard a rustling in the underbrush nearby and crouched automatically. She contorted her body to the most suitable position for going undetected and she watched, her fingers wrapped tightly around the smooth wood handle of her tomahawk. Within seconds, the shadow of a person moved into her line of vision.          



As soon as the figure stood upright, Rhyli stiffened. A man. It was a man standing there, skulking through the forest. In her direction. She screwed her face into a silent snarl and lifted her weapon just as quietly. She would have a difficult time sneaking up on him in the forest. It was already late September and the trees had thoroughly shed enough leaves to leave an ugly, noisy carpet along the ground.          



Another rumble of thunder sounded above and Rhyli felt it shake her through the tree trunk at her back. She counted the seconds between the thunder and the lightning strike in the distance. Barely two seconds passed before another crack sounded through the sky. Perfect.          



Rhyli rose from her defensive crouch slowly and silently, her hand with the tomahawk moving down to her thigh. The first faint cracklings of the thunder prickled her ears and she ran straight ahead, her steps light and fast, her arm arcing over and down.          



The man was dead before the flash of lightning lit up the night sky to reflect off his blood on the forest floor. Rhyli was a quarter mile away before the man's partner stumbled upon him in the dark.



It was a mistake. They would Hunt her now. She kept running.

© Copyright 2011 Montaigne (nuveri_aerodon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1792947-2o