Blood & Juniper

A soundless hunter is at my heels as I flee. A horrifying being that chases in total silence. I don't know exactly how close they are, only that I'm undoubtedly being pursued. I have the urge to look back but that's proven to never be a smart idea.

I think about calling for Sam, but Cormac mentioned three others. Alerting them could put me at worse odds.

I spring off a tree, bounding and purposely grabbing branches so they whip backwards like a slingshot rubber bands. I hope it slows them down but this could be totally backfiring and I'm effectively slowing myself instead.

I *feel* them behind me without looking. Not the tapping of feet slapping mud, no shuffle of leaves, not even the steady puffs of breath, but they *are* there.

Ice trails down my spine, this is the creepiest thing in the world. I'm anticipating spidery fingers to curl around the plump of my arm at any given second.

If they catch me, do I scream then? Am I too deep in the woods for any help to come? Stranglehold is seriously cursed, I'm always being chased all over this damn place!

I run blindly not knowing what lies beyond the smear of grey, praying I don't box myself in with unknown obstacles ahead. 'What if I'm going the wrong way!'

The woods thicken with low clouds as I weave in the maze of bendy trees and shrubs, leaping over mossy boulders.

My fears materialize as two flaming rubies emerge from the fog, stopping me in my tracks. I gasp, grinding to a halt through pebbles and twigs. Glaring lasers block my path and a cl.u.s.ter of rigid boulders and foliage are raised on each side of this sloping ditch.

'Shit, trapped!'

'Please hear me, Sam!'

My mouth falls open to yell for him as a disembodied arm wh.i.p.s out of the mist.

The sound is cut off before it starts and a sharp pain slams into the center of my windpipe, I choke. My hands fly to my throat, scrambling for aided breath. A piece of metal is jutting out of my neck, plugging my airway!

The gloved hand is pointed straight, those floating red eyes flare in the opaque mist. They threw a starred shuriken!

'I can't breathe, I'm going to suffocate on my own fluids! I'm dead!'

'Wait! I don't have to breathe,' I abruptly recall. The star slices into my palm and tips as I fumble to release it, wincing as my hand quakes.

The strain of it hurts! I need it out of my neck! Another blade whizzes through the trees, sticking into my arm like a genetically modified piranha, imbedding itself deep. The pressure builds in my throat, imploding as I make the motion to cry out soundlessly.

Everything starts to blur and tears sting my eyes. I yank the jagged weapon from my neck as the edges bite into my fingers, gouging them.

Blood erupts in a lurid fountain spray. I retch and cough down oxygen on impulse. I may not have to breathe but it doesn't wholly prevent the miserable discomfort.

I sense the shadow coming up to nab me from behind and swing my arm back with the gory throwing star in hand.

My arm is seized and twisted behind my back. I yelp, dropping the star as my shoulder cracks, cranking in an upward twist. The phantom stalker forces me to be forward. I thrust a foot in a donkey kick but my ankle is netted in their grip. I lose balance and topple, nearly face planting.

I spin before I hit, getting semi-loose in the nic of time, wrecking on the flat of my back. I throw my hands sporadically without thought. The cloaked figure backs off as I flail. A metallic blur of seafoam and aqua irises streaks the dark as they slide away.

A stern feminine voice hisses, "Detain her!"

I spot a fallen branch on the ground and practically lunge for the potential staking weapon.

It's like they knew exactly which stick I was aiming for. The robed figure punts the branch away then yanks me by the scruff of my shirt like a puppy. Rippling arms hook round my shoulders and grip the back of my neck forcing my head down like a possessed backpack from hell!

'Ack!' I choke, blackened muck oozes from my mouth and lacerated throat. Air burns it's way up as I let out a congested howl.

A hand clamps down over my mouth and I'm pulled backwards. My heels drag, leaving long tracks in the damp mulch.

I struggle, reaching backwards trying to clasp the massive hood or hair or anything I can manage. The person weaves, avoiding every attempt perfectly. It's like they're reading my mind!

… *Reading my mind.*

I start to kick and flail, buffeting at empty air and rocking my head back. There's no pattern to it. If they really are reading my mind, less thought on my action is the new strategy.

I gnash my teeth, thrashing claws around like a cat on too much nip. I connect one good kick in the chaotic scuffle and they falter enough from me to swat at them. They hiss as I smack them across the face, grazing with edged talons.

Another dagger is tossed like a dart, partially obstructing my airway again.

We tumble in the dead leaves as they grapple to restrain and I waste no time mindlessly wailing on them with open claws.

There's a small, "Oof!" Then a high pitched snarl as they try to keep me from getting away. I'm beating her arms back, ripping into the hooded cape and tearing out brown strands of hair.

My arms are getting stripped of flesh as we tussle in the scrap. I'm snarling and wheezing like a sickly dog with that foreign object sticking out of my neck. My wounds rain down, soiling her dark cape like slime.

I rip the blade from my throat, too high on adrenaline to react to the pain and pound it into her c.h.e.s.t.

She yowls as I jump off to make my escape, my head feels heavy and I can hardly see.

My ankles are seized and lifted high. I belly flop, whacking my chin as the spilt on my throat gushes, stinging hot as I hack. They are unremitting, hauling me across rocks and gravel.

I'm hooking my fingers into the mud, kicking one leg loose, trying to pull away but the debris clump and crumble, bunching under my palms. I gag on dirt and blood.

Two sharp lashes against my back forces out a bubbling shriek of agony. I recoil, arching then curling like a pill bug.

Blades continue to punish, slicing vertically and coming around again on the opposite swing, chewing up my upper and lower back. They clip into my skin, splitting it apart. My screams come up muffled as gurgling clots. It's like my head is submerged in swamp water.

I feel like I'm passing out. I roll, aimlessly swinging fists, managing to knock one of the assaulting daggers free.

"Why are you standing around?" barks the woman cutting me up. The glare of her pointed scowl sways beneath her hard candy eyes as my vision becomes distorted, "Assist me!"

She stops slashing and pins my arm above my head.

She commands, "Speak, Raymond. No thoughts!"

Those red orbs are swimming in the black. The fight in me is draining. I should be scared out of my mind or pissed off but that's all slipping away too. Is this it for me?

"The lack of premeditation made it challenging," answers a soft spoken man, "Besides, my assistance was redundant after your third strike. Can't you see the wolfsbane concoction is in effect? It seems Miles' final deductions were correct."

Wolfsbane? Miles? My vision is fuzzy and the numbing torment is making me delirious. My limbs feel like someone is adding weight to them as I struggle pointlessly against the woman. This exhaustion and disorientation are taking over.

"You leave me with all the work. The brat stabbed me," the gruff woman complains, "You rely too heavily on thoughts and too little on action!"

"And you lack patience," the voice is gentle and mildly boyish, "This exertion is unnecessary."

I see double as the other cloak floats closer. I'm trying to stay awake, fighting to hold on, to make sense of this. I think they're talking about me. June warned me about wolfsbane, didn't she? *Poisoned*, I've been poisoned.

"The first two blades were enough, the third was certain and the rest was imprudent," his tone is disapproving, almost scolding, "She wouldn't have gotten far before falling unconscious. And why are we vocalizing?"

"Because I tire of silence! You know my gift is not as dominant as yours. These copious conversations by mind drive me to madness! My ears need stimulation as well."

A weight is lifted off my arms and stomach. I dig my fingers into the earth attempting to sit and scoot away but the ground is sinking away. Black bounces in my vision as my lids move like a camera shutters. They're getting heavier every time.

"Stop *thinking* at me!" the frightening lady snaps, it would have made me jump if I weren't so out of it, she sounds farther away, "It's really starting to get on my last nerve."

"I'll oblige but you must use more discretion. She has an incognito companion nearby."

"Don't condescend, I *heard* the thought. Why do you think I aimed for her throat?"

"You're being too noisy," he chides.

"If they come, they come," she dismisses, "It'll be comparatively simple. We're only required to capture the two, afterall. No stipulations are far less taxing."

I can't open my eyes at this point, only lay helplessly and listen to their bickering.

I hear an exhale of frustration as I'm lifted, floating. They're taking me away and there's nothing I can do about it.

'Help.' I try to speak, there's no sound, I can't feel my lips, 'Help me, Sam. June. Cormac. Anyone?'

"Fine. Go then," the female voice becomes muddled too, "I'll play the lookout and informer. Oh, and leave her boots.... Christina will loath the lavish detail on…"

The volume dies into silence, it's only darkness. I'm overtaken by sleep.