Hunted

You remember being snatched as you left your apartment, remember being bundled into the back of a van. The light when the van door slides aside blinds you for a second, a firm hand grabbing you by the arm. You're yanked out, stumbling and falling to the ground, and look up as sets of boots appear in your field of vision. Four men surround you, you reckon they're all easily head-and-shoulders taller than you and much bulkier.

You're roughly hauled to your feet, marched over to where four other women are chained to a waist-height bar. Another man is there, you shrink back as he leers at you, and moan quietly as cuffs are locked around your wrists. The fear you're experiencing grows as each man retrieves long cases from a second van, opening them and taking out strung bows.

"If you make it to the stream due north we'll let you go."

You don't know if you believe the man who spoke, none of the other captives are sure either, and you're quivering as the men slowly circle all of you, blush as they casually discuss your bodies.

One stops in front of you, you squeak as he runs his hands along the length of your midriff. He takes a red-coloured cuff from a trouser pocket and swiftly locks it around an ankle, removing the pair keeping you attached to the bar a moment later.

"Run girl. Run for your life!"

The last word is practically shouted and you bolt, after a few seconds hearing only the pounding of your heart and the slapping of your feet on the soft ground.

A thick-looking patch of trees sit in your path, if a stream exists you assume it is beyond them, and you feel your hopes rise as you cross the tree-line, thinking you'll be difficult to hit. The thud of an arrow sinking deep into the tree just to your left makes your heart skip a beat and you spin, seeing your hunter calmly nock another arrow.

Again you run, crashing through bushes that leave fine scratches on your arms and legs. It's a warm day and you dressed for it, you never imagined you'd be in a race for your life! A second arrow flies past, close enough to ruffle your hair, and you involuntarily cry out, the sound muffled amid the trees.

Sweat makes your flesh glow as you keep moving. A whirlwind of emotions pass through you as the patch of trees begins thinning, fear of being in the open but also hope as you spot a stream in the distance. On shaky legs you hurry forward, again becoming aware of only yourself, your breathing and heartbeat, the ground beneath your feet.

The arrow hits you in the right shoulder, throws you down. You groggily shake your head as pain starts radiating out, a dull protest, and then a hand cruelly grips your chin, forces your head up to expose your neck. The knife is sharp, you barely feel it cut through your skin and throat. Your hunter is straddling you, pressing you against the ground, and his pose is trapping your arms.

Blood pours from the deep slice, the soil darkens and so does your vision…