Page 123 of Hunted By Fae
I run through the ragged pain in my chest, the hoarseness of my breathing.
I run through the dizziness of my head, the distortion of my vision in the dark.
Emily’s torchlight bobs with our chase.
It washes over the edge of the lake, frozen, then the greyish snow packed onto the path, before drifting over the border of the woods, trees once lush and green now powdered with winter.
My gloved fingers are gripped tight onto the shotgun, but it swings back and forth with my rushed run.
Emily aims the light ahead, just metres of blackness pierced through with her heavy-duty torch, the kind that weighs her down too much.
But it’s useful, and it shows us the edge of the lake—where the waters end, frozen, and meet a snow-dusted shore.
The light only just wisps over the shore before a sudden cry splits the still air.
I tumble over my boots.
Emily flinches into a stagger beside me, and the torchlight is quick to flick off.
We freeze, crouched statues on the path bordering the lake.
The cry came and went.
It’s silent now.
It came from somewhere in the distance, maybe the end of the lake, but it was short-lived.
Even then, I heard enough of it—we both did—to reach out for each other in the dark.
Emily’s hand finds mine.
Our grips are tight, gloved, and damp.
We wait.
The cry was female, no doubt about it, and it was surprised. The quick shrill shout of a fright.
It silences, but it’s only some moments before it’s replaced by raining bootsteps in the distance.
I’m bolted in place.
Crouched, tucked in the blackout, I watch as the faintest red orb bounces far ahead—and my blood runs cold.
I would recognise the dusty crimson of those nightlights anywhere.
“Bee,” I whisper, guttural.
In answer, Emily’s grip tightens on my hand.
I push up, dragging her with me, and inch along to the edge of the path where an abandoned boat is perched on stilts. My torchlight is flimsy, but we can’t risk Emily’s stronger one—not until we know what the fuck is going on.
I tug Emily behind the boat.
Her weight unbalances me as she leans too much into my side, the panic tensing her against me.
I steel myself against her and peer over the edge of the boat.
The three nightlights blend into a crimson glow bobbing onto the frozen surface of the lake—closer and closer and closer.
