Page 7 of Ravaged Saints

“What would you do if I weren’t here?” She asks, her eyes soft but worried.

I take a deep breath. “To be honest, I would stay by the path through the woods at least for a few weeks, just to give it enough time for those men to quit looking for you.”

She nods and stands up. “Then that’s what we will do. I trust you, Aspen.”

Holy smokes, what am I doing?

We got lucky today; our hunting was successful. It’s been almost two weeks since I saved Bryn, and things have been going well. She does everything I tell her, but I can see this type of life is taking a toll on her; she is tired all the time, and we lost track of the river for a few days and barely had water to drink. That didn’t help at all…

Thankfully, we found it again, a small stream enough to drink and bathe; she looks happier now, but still, I decided to follow the stream up; it’s safer, and at least we know we will have water to drink, and maybe we can try some fishing.

We’ve been walking for half a day, and my legs hurt like hell.

There are only trees and more trees around us, the quiet broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. The sun hangs low in the sky, casting long, dappled shadows across the ground. The dirt beneath our boots makes every step feel heavier, but we keep moving, one foot in front of the other. The weight of survival presses down on me with each step. At least we’re alive. At least we’re still pushing forward. We have to keep moving. Maybe we’ll find somewhere safer, somewhere we can rest.

Bryn slows, scanning the ground. Her eyes lock on something just ahead, her body going still, like she senses it before I do. She takes a few careful steps forward. My pulse spikes, something in the air shifts, but I don’t have time to react.

Then I hear it—the snap.

My heart races, and instinct kicks in. I’m already moving before I know it—shoving Bryn out of the way. The world tilts, spinning in slow motion. I barely catch the look of shock in her eyes before I’m yanked upward.

The rope coils tight around my left ankle, pulling me off the ground with brutal force. My breath catches, the blood rushing to my head as I flip upside down. I’m suspended in midair, hanging by the ankle, disoriented, my chest tight with panic.

Bryn’s scream slices through the quiet woods. and she rushes toward me, grabbing my shoulder, trying to pull me free. “Oh no! Aspen, what do I do?!” Her breath hitches, high-pitched and trembling with panic, scrambling my thoughts.

The rope tightens with every movement, cutting into my skin, and I wince as a sharp pain shoots up my leg; my ankle throbs, but my head feels worse, blood surges downward, making it pound, and my heart races in my throat, each beat loud and suffocating.

This is a human trap, and the rope looks recent, not worn out like relics from the plague. Someone set this up recently, which means people are nearby, and with my luck, it’s Hunters!

I reach for my knife, but it’s gone, probably fell when the trap snapped. “Bryn, find the knife!” I bark, and she drops to her knees, clawing through the leaves, her fingers trembling as she searches.

The throbbing in my ankle is unbearable, but I grit my teeth. It doesn’t feel broken; I’ll still be able to run if we can get out of this.

“I can’t find it!” Bryn wails, her words cracking as tears fill her eyes. “This is my fault!”

My chest tightens. This is bad. This is really bad. “Bryn, you need to leave.”

Her head snaps up. “No! I can’t do this without you!” She grabs my shoulders, her eyes wide and desperate.

I freeze at the faint crunch of leaves. Footsteps sound from the tree line, and my breath catches as Bryn stiffens.

She grabs a thick branch nearby and raises it like a bat, standing close to me to protect me. I yank at the rope, trying to free my ankle, but it’s no use.

A deep, rough voice emerges from the shadows. “It’s not the type of animal you were hoping for.”

A chill slices through me, colder than the autumn air.

Hunters…

Knox

“What the fuck was that?” I ask Max when the sound of a screech comes from behind the trees as we are getting ready to return to base.

Max cocks an eyebrow, smirking. “Sounds like the foot snare. Might be a big one this time.” He grinds his teeth. This fucker eats like a bear, always hungry, but we already have more meat than we need, but hey, if it was caught, it would die there, so we might as well take it with us.

We move close to the trees, our black combat gear blending seamlessly with the shadows, using the dense foliage to stay hidden. Guns drawn, I nod, and Max heads to the left, kneeling behind a branch as I circle, keeping my gun aimed in the direction of the sounds, every movement calculated to stay invisible just in case.

Our breathing is controlled; in sync with the wind above our heads, we don’t make a sound, moving like panthers in the wilderness.

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