Chapter 1: A Runner's Flight

Naked feet that matched the color of brown soil perfectly griped hard on the bark beneath, the little toes fanning out and digging into the cracks between the wooden platelets. My eyes never left those little toes, even as my arms ached from being held in the same position for so long, stretched out to reach the nearest upper branch. My fingers dug in too with splinters of bark worming underneath the nails. That pain was small and insignificant compared to what would happen to me if I so much as moved. I sucked in streams of air rather than breathing normally, pulling the warm humidity in past my clenched teeth and then struggling to exhale quietly. It was the exhale that always got me. My long brown hair betrayed me, letting enough graceful tendrils loose to tickle my nose. I snuffled out one little puff of air and sent the strands floating in the air. As my heart thundered faster, my breathing became harder, feeling more like invisible hands around my neck, tightening for the killing strangle.

The object of my fear moved directly underneath, the bulbous snout low to the ground as it slithered on all six legs, the four in the back propelling it in all directions and the two larger ones, each with hooked claws, stabbing into the ground like stakes, allowing it to swing around at a moments notice and catch its prey.

And by all things good, it was after me today.

I stared at my toenails, studying the broken edge where I had snapped off part in my last run. Forcing myself to be interested in only my toes, I let my arms and hands go numb and the sharp tingling finally subsided. I dare not move even my eyes, knowing that even the sight of the hunter with its long brown fangs and breath so foul it wilted passing flowers, would throw off my balance and with it my only chance of survival.

This had been a bad Run, a very bad Run and I intensely regretted volunteering. From the start it had felt odd, that subtle difference like a scent in the air or a pressure change in the humidity that sent my instincts raging. The night had settled like it always did, dusk bringing that momentary stillness before the calls sounded. The shrill, high-pitched squall of the smaller hunters echoed the deep rumbling of their larger counterparts and the sound crept down my back in cold waves. They only called like that when they smelled blood and I could only hope it wasn’t one of the other Runners the creatures tasted in the dusk.

I didn’t need Jerrod to tell me to wait till morning, but I refused before he even got a word out. I would never Run in the daylight. The dangers then were worse than the six-legged fiends. Those I could hear in the stillness and feel their approach. In the day the jungle awoke with catcher vines and not even my speed or stealth could spare me from their bite.

The hunter raised its muzzle, the thick flaps of skin that covered its teeth curling and rippling like a continuous wave with the deep rumble of its frustration. It was a good sign, growling like that could only mean that it would move on soon, unable to resist the urge to hunt. Yes, I prayed silently, Move on to surer, meatier targets you stinking beast! I let myself feel that convenient stab of anger, letting it warm my body and chase off the chill of fear. It’s teeth bared, it snapped furiously in the air. At what, I had no idea, perhaps some sort of flying bug or an imaginary target. Who could possible know what made it do what it did?

It dug its long legs into the ground, spun to the rear and clambered off, disappearing beneath the sparkle of moonlight leaves. I waited, counting silently to myself. Just as I began to breathe normally, letting my heartbeat slow, a screech from some poor bird filled the night air. The fear came back in a vicious rush, trembling down my arms and jostling loose my tentative grip on the branch. My heart raced harder, the drumming drowning out all noise as I tumbled to the jungle floor. I twisted in mid-air, having at least the good instincts to tuck my feet beneath and brace for the fall. And it was a short fall followed by jolts of hot pain from my ankles, screaming up my legs. Unable to keep steady, I rolled onto my side and pulled myself onto all fours. The pain was incredible, stabbing into my legs with each movement from my toes. Those damn toes and their damn fragility! I clenched my jaw shut and ignored the toes, rotating my ankles instead and finding small relief that they were still intact and useable. Sore tomorrow maybe, but let the ache come if it meant I survived tonight.

My arms pushed me up onto my feet, wincing only as my full weight spread across the broken toes, two at least. I brushed my hands together, frowning at the bits of bark and dirt as it brushed away from my palms and left behind imprints. A reminder of what could have happened. I appreciated these small gestures that served as my ever reminder that I was still alive with all my limbs and mobility. Mobility that would come in handy in just a few moments.

It started with the heat. I could feel it getting warmer by the second, the temperature rising in pulses. I should have known then but I was so damn concerned with my pain, my miniscule pain, that I dismissed it. This place had a habit of reminding you to never overlook anything. The twinge of adrenaline started up in my veins again and this time I listened. I could hear it then, smell it, and breathe it. The air wasn’t just hot, it was moist and when the downwind breeze stilled, it reeked of rotten carcasses left for the birds to fight over. Panic screamed inside me, but it was my instincts that saved me from the killing blow.

I threw myself face first into the ground, rolling and rolling until I could get my feet back under me. The roar from the hunter chased me as I tumbled, reverberating off the interior of my skull with blood-thirsty rage. My eyes snapped up, taking in with a small touch of satisfaction as I watched it stumble, dizzied by the sudden unexpected impact with the tree trunk. It swayed on its four back legs, having to skitter from side to side to keep its torso mostly upright. The big upper claws tore at the air as if it tried to cut some ghostly image of my back apart as I turned and fled. I knew better than to trust that it was wounded, in here few things were wounded so easily.

One, two, three, four, I counted my breaths out loud, falling into the easy rhythm of running and knowing that as long as I kept this pace, I had a chance. When the vehement cry from the big hunter sped along in my wake, I focused on breathing harder. That was the key to running, any kind of running, even if all I knew of running had come from encounters like this. I knew the only thing that could stop it, the only thing it would not chase me through and I made a beeline for it. Left before the dead oak, right after the spider web’s thrall, I made my way past the side trails and used them as markers for the map in my mind. I knew this place and it was only fortunate that it had chased me onto this round-a-bout path. I needed an excuse for a swim anyway.

Vines crackled and snapped like a hundred whips in the crisp air, giving away its presence and I felt that sickening sensation in the pit of my stomach. Unease crawled up my throat, tasting mildly of bile and I clamped my teeth together. It was the vines that gave it away, but also the vines that showed me how quick this hunter was. By all that was good, it was nearly on top of me! I realized now, too late to correct the problem, that my toes were slowing me down. They forced me to take half steps inside of being able to spring off the tips of the toes and unleash the speed I was known for.

Let me finish this round; let me make it to the Island one last time. The warmth came again to the back of my neck, the hot breath of the hunter having caught up to me. It breathed in labored gasps that dissolved into growls each time. It gasped and I pushed myself past my limits, past my comfort point and leap onto a fallen tree trunk that jutted out into the water. I scrambled up on all fours, grabbing with my hands, pushing with my feet, grabbing and pushing, ignoring the scraping of my skin against the rough bark and thinking with blind terror of the brown stained fangs inching ever closer to the nape of my neck. My leg muscles bunched, drawing together and releasing in a jump as I dove toward the inky blackness that was the Lake of Tears.

I smashed into the Lake’s glossy surface, disappearing beneath with a noisy splash and sinking as much as possible. The cold rushed over me and I welcomed it, my arms and legs curling up near my body’s core. My eyes stared into the murky depths, my lips moving in a thousand breathless prayers of gratitude to whatever it was that let me escape unscathed. It may have started out as a bad Run but at that point it was the best run of my life. Air bubbles tickled my nose and I resigned, opening out my arms and swimming through the murk. My lungs were on fire, feeling like they seized from the lack of new air and banged against my ribcage. I ignored the urgency and broke the surface carefully, letting only my lips crest the surface to exhale with that same jerky slowness I had experienced moments ago in the lower limbs of that tree. It was a practiced maneuver, one of the first I learned so many seasons past when I had first stumbled from the wasteland that was the rest of the world, into this green oasis. The old one had held a knife to my throat, saying in a voice that held no ruthless edge or regret, “Do this now and you will survive. Fail me now and I save you from a gruesome death.” I hadn’t understood until well into my first season when I began my Runs, back then I was just a scared little girl, shaking from fear of this man who said he would help me. There are some lessons you never forget.

Reaching the island’s edge, I gripped fistfuls of waterlogged earth and dug my hands past the stubborn grass that grew short. I pulled myself up, my legs churning wildly in the water as I reached for handhold after handhold, trusting that the land would hold my menial weight.