Harold and Amber disappear through the hole in the canopy as the startled guard opens fire.
“They can talk!”
Inhale, exhale, inhale, she keeps reminding herself to breathe. She sees them as they near her, two people, fleeing into the wilderness. She too, must flee. The bullets rip into the tree trunk as she vanishes behind it, the luminescent white of her dress presenting a far better target than the retreating backs of her… allies? Friends? Competition for the gunfire’s affection?
She knew they’d have some sort of defense system, something to warn them should she return, but she didn’t expect them to be so openly hostile. In fact, several hours spent wandering the woods had convinced her diplomacy was more than worth the risk. Perhaps it was their fault she was being fired upon, her competition, but it mattered little now. Bullets had been fired, her life had been threatened, and that’s all that mattered. There would be consequences. She presses further into the woods. And then she stops.
And turns.

View this story's 1 comments.