Page 3 of Runaways

"Did you hear that?" Mia asks.

"Yeah," I tell my best friend, assuming she's referring to the same sound. "I think so."

"No," Tate says, pointing to his sister before taking the joint from behind his ear and bringing it to his lips. "Don't tell me you're starting that Bigfoot shit again. What have you two been watching?"

"I'm serious, Tate," Mia says. "Listen."

"Nuh uh. We're not doing this again." He brushes shaggy blue hair away from his face and then pulls a lighter from his pocket, and I watch his mouth a little too intently while he inhales, his full lips forming a tight circle when he blows smoke in my direction.

Like his twin sister, he's beautiful, and he knows it.

He's only a couple inches taller than I am, but the way he wears his hair—the longer hair on top dyed blue and slicked back—might put him closer to six feet.

Once he finally gets the fire lit, we hear the sound again, and this time, even Tate looks up.

He looks back at us, raising his eyebrows while biting down on his lip rings. "Hmm," he says. "Well, that's interesting."

Silas pulls out his pocketknife and flips it open before quietly moving in that direction.

"Wait! What are you doing?" I ask.

When he doesn't answer and Tate follows, Mia pulls me to my feet. Hand in hand, we follow them further into the woods.

We don't walk for long before the guys stop.

"Found it," Silas says.

"What?" Mia asks. "What is it?"

"It's a fox," Tate says. "But it's been shot."

"So, what do we do?" I ask, stepping to Silas's side. I can see it—the bullet wound in the animal's hind leg. It lies on its side, its chest rising and falling with slow, uneven breaths. "Call animal control? Or someone from the forest service? You can't shoot foxes, can you?"

Silas kneels in the mud and grabs the fox by its throat, forcing its chin upward.

"Oh, fuck no," Mia says, turning her back to us. "I'm not watching this; let's go."

"Watching what?" I ask as she retreats. But I find out what she means when I turn back toward the animal. And I do watch…gasping as Silas digs the knife into the animal's skin and slides it across its throat.

Blood pours from the wound. The sound stops, and so does all other movement.

I swallow hard, tears stinging my eyes. "Silas…you can't just…"

To his left, Tate smiles, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"It was already dead, Noah," Silas says. "I put it out of its misery. There was nothing else we could do."

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?" Tate asks. "Did you want us to leave it out here screaming all night until coyotes or wolves got a hold of it?"

"No, I just…" I just don't like that theycando it; I couldn't do it. "I'm going back, too."

Tate laughs as I storm off, but they aren't far behind me. Shortly after I sit beside Mia, the two of them come into view, Tate holding the animal by its back legs. As Silas sits at my other side, Tate drops it onto the fire.

"Hope you girls are hungry," he says, and the two of them laugh.

"Tate, what the fuck?!" Mia shouts, punching him in the arm before he sits down.

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