Ficly

Atalanta

The bushes rustled. Something was coming.

She heard her heart start to pound in her ears. Men, close to a dozen of them. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. They’ve come to stop me. I won’t make it out of here alive. Her thoughts started spinning again.

Exhale, clear your mind. her father’s advice came to her. Focus on your breathing. Accept all that you sense.

She instantly knew there were 8 men, carrying large amounts of equipment, probably with military or survival training. They were coming through the dirt trail to the east. They were coming for her.

Her choice was clear, if they got to her, they’d stop her from doing what she needed to do. She had to escape, now. To the west, there was a ridge made of soft clay. It was covered with bushes and would stop the men from following her.

Kimmy darted to the west, her thin soles offering little protection to her feet as she felt twigs snap and ran over rocks. Almost there, only 20 more steps, 17, 13…

If she made it, she’d be free.

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