Second

The rowboat twisted and turned, rocked by the tumultuous sea. Chrona did his best to rock with it, shifting his weight opposite the push and pull of the waves, struggling to keep his vessel from capsizing. How did he get here? Didn't matter. He just had to survive.

Rain pelted his skin, hard, sharp drops of water stabbing him all over, as if the clouds were trying to kill him themselves. The wind buffeted him, too, flinging his soaking golden brown hair all over the place and threatening to push him off balance and out of the boat. The rushing of the air combined with the surging of the waves and rain filled his ears with an insurmountable uproar. A bright, whitish-blue light flashed in the clouds above and the unmistakable crash of thunder deafened him further.

A wave crested above him, a curl of white foam crowning the gray water. He could only watch in horror as the mountain collapsed over him, swallowing him up in icy blackness. Beneath the water, Chrona's ears began to ring, and pressure built up in his skull. He struggled against the unseeable currents that pulled him down, but his arms and legs made no headway in the depths. The ringing grew louder and louder, taking on a pulsing rhythm. It felt like his lungs and head would explode from being unable to breathe.

Finally, he gasped and his chest filled with air.

He sat up, drenched in sweat that bit against his skin in the cold night. The fleece blanket had been tossed around, flat once more, but wrinkled from vigorous tossing and turning. Chrona was surprised he hadn't fallen off the tree, since he'd woken up on the floor at home multiple times. He brushed a hand over his hair, which was wet with melted snow, but nothing fresh. The precipitation had probably stopped sometime after he'd fallen asleep. He leaned into the trunk of the tree, rubbing the heaviness from his eyes and letting out an equally weighty sigh. Due to his nightmare, his body felt spent, as if the one time he was supposed to be able to rest had drained him even more. Wonderful.

He closed his eyes and replayed each scene, poring over the details. The chill of the rain and water, the pounding of his head without air, the ringing of his ears. It all seemed so distant, even though it had happened mere seconds ago. The ringing…

There it was again, but it wasn't inside his head. Chrona sat up straight, his heart beating against the inside of his chest again. Where was it coming from? He turned his head to try and pinpoint the noise, listening to its incessant rising and falling tone. Before long, it solidified into a wail, and Chrona could just barely make out the drumming of helicopter blades beating the air.

His chest seized up, no heart, no breath. His muscles moved on their own, hastily gathering the blanket and stuffing it into the backpack. His carelessness would make the pack uncomfortable to carry, but if that helicopter was really after him, he couldn't afford the care he would take otherwise. Hastily, he zipped up the backpack. Halfway through, it caught on the blanket and stuck. Fine. Chrona could live with it being partially open.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and stayed low, crawling his way over to the tree that was leaning heavily against the one he had climbed. The declination of the wood made his throat close up, so he turned, opting instead to descend backwards. Frantically feeling with his feet, Chrona scrambled down the slope of the wet trunk, the fragrance of wet bark wafting up each time his hands and feet scraped at the rough wooden shell. The sirens continued to pierce his ears, their screaming egging on his heart rate and shortening his breath.

They're gonna find you if you don't hurry.

Just shut up!

Chrona peered at the ground, which was comfortably close for a safe landing. And much easier to see than he'd've thought. Maybe the moon had escaped from obscurity as he'd slept. He rolled off the trunk of the tree and let gravity snatch him from the air. The fall was brief, the cold air exhilarating as it blew past his ears. Then the moment was over and he landed, catlike, on his hands and toes. He winced at the sound of scuffling, simply out of habit.

They can't hear you from the helicopter, you know.

Whose side are you on, anyway?

Yours. Duh.

Chrona started to move, lightly padding on the toes of his boots rather than the heels. Leaning low and forward and keeping his arms out to distribute his weight, he did everything he could to prevent his footfalls from reaching even his own ears.

Well, it's just one moment, you're trying to cause anxiety. The next, you're trying to calm it.

We've had this discussion before.

And now you're shutting me down. You're excellent at avoiding things.

I raised you well.

What's that supposed to mean?

Just keep moving.

Obediently, Chrona wove his way through more trees, keeping an ear on the police copter and casting his eyes about for any sign of grounded pursuit. Why was it so easy to see? He stole a glance above him, but what little he could see of the sky betrayed no hint of the moon. Even so, if Chrona remembered right, it was a crescent, waning and thin, so it wouldn't be giving off enough light to see…

Whatever the case, he wasn't complaining. Chrona crept along, one step, then another.

Crunch.

He froze. That wasn't him. His head started pounding as the blood rushed into his ears. He lowered himself to the ground and felt his knee press against his racing heart. Chrona's eyes danced about, scanning for the source of the noise or traces of footprints in the residual snowbanks. None were there. At least, none that he could see. Cautiously, he remained in his low stance and crawled forward, bare hands irritated with the coarse layer of stripped bark and fallen leaves. The frosty detritus made little sound as he inched his way forward, stealing a glance around the closest tree…

Chrona's heart and breath was left close to the ground as he was jerked upward, pulled by the straps of his backpack. His feet almost left the ground, due to the strength of the officer behind him hoisting him up. "Chrona Olumn, you're coming with me," her voice was stern, commanding. Almost robotic in the way it implored him. But in the brief time she took to lay out her demand, Chrona was already overcoming his initial shock.

Instead of replying verbally, he let his arms go limp and he ducked, slipping out of the backpack and into a low stance. With a deft motion, he swept his right leg around him in an arc and spun with it, churning the topsoil with the heel of his boot. His shin clashed with the officer's ankles, forcing them out from under her and starting her fall to the ground. Using his left leg, Chrona pounced upward, throwing all his weight into a punch to the woman's armored chest. His target let out a grunt and flew backwards, crashing into the ground with a thud and a rustle as she slid on the frosty ground. Over the rapid thumping of his heart, Chrona felt surprise at his strength, but with adrenaline coursing through his veins, who knew what he was capable of?

He made a move towards the prone officer, eyes shifting between her head and the bag in her relaxed clutches. Watching for any sign of stirring, Chrona bent down and reached out as he approached, leaning to snag his backpack from his would-be captor.

Snap.

Chrona jumped back, retreating from the officer and the old branch his foot had broken in two. His opponent stirred, much more quickly and readily than he thought she might've. She'd be back on her feet and after him in seconds. He forsook the backpack and took off away from her, weaving through tree after tree. The forest whizzed by, leaving the sound of the scuffling officer buried beneath the rushing of wind and a flurry of Chrona's own rapid footsteps. He dodged each tree as they approached more and more rapidly, but despite the vigor of his steps, his breath came easily and his legs didn't tire.

Adrenaline. It must be.

Stop kidding yourself.

What else could it be?

Tree!

He leapt to the side, narrowly missing a wide wooden obstacle that nearly grazed him with its rough bark. Easy. How was it easy?

The muffled padding of footsteps beneath him was rapidly replaced with the crunching of snow. Chrona slid to a halt, directly at the edge of a circle devoid of trees. Above the clearing, the overcast sky loomed ominously, the edges of the darkness interrupted by occasional blue and red flashes. He scanned the clean snow in front of him, devoid of blemishes excepting small trails of footprints left by animals. The sides of the glade harbored snow banks that spilled dusty flakes onto the forest floor.

Chrona could almost forget what he was running from, staring at the natural beauty of the scene, marveling at the nearly untouched ice and the fact he could see it so well in what was usually dark. Until the sirens wailed. He snapped back into survival mode, looking for a place to hide.

He nearly jumped out of his boots when a small beep came from behind him. A radio. It must be. He set his sights on a tree trunk across the clearing from him, barren of bark and wholly hollow, and leapt up the tree next to him, hoisting himself up using the low hanging branches. Chrona's movements, though he was confident in them already, were smooth. Too smooth. He swung up and forward, landing feet first on a wide branch on the next tree.

Adrenaline. It's gotta be adrenaline.

Whatever, if you say so.

Deftly moving from tree to tree, Chrona reached the hollow trunk and slipped inside, the sirens muffling as oaken walls closed around him. The mustiness of his boots smushing the soil beneath him tickled his nose, and soft dust rose around him, remains left behind by years of rot and termites. And yet, it still wasn't dark. He could make out specks of dust as they settled on and around him, could see with perfect clarity his boots sinking into the bottom of the tree, and he wondered how on earth that could be.

Shifting his stance, Chrona peered out into the clearing, satisfyingly bereft of human footprints, but bearing the reflection of a flashlight, shining out from the woods on the opposite side. He held his breath, watching as the light danced across the crystalline blanket.

Behind the glistening snow and the handheld beam, Chrona could just make out the shape of the female officer, his backpack hanging off her shoulder and a gun in her other hand. The steps she took were cautious, not even making a sound as her feet broke the surface of the snow. He ducked into the wooden shell of the tree as her light swept across the edge of the clearing, just brushing the crack in his tree.

The light stagnated and crept up the opening, illuminating the inside of the tree and Chrona retreated as far away from the crack in the tree as possible. His back was pressed against the damp rot, but he knew if it wasn't, he'd be that much easier to find. With his heart beating against his chest so loudly, Chrona was amazed the officer couldn't hear that alone.

The beam became more focused, stronger, as the officer got closer. Chrona could hear the soft crunch of her footsteps now, each one bearing her closer to the tree. He waited, watching the light in front of him. Waited for it to change, turn, or shut off. He braced himself, hands and heels against the soft wood behind him.

The light turned quickly and Chrona pounced, thrusting his arms out of the tree and seizing the hand wielding the gun. He pressed it against her chin, despite her resistance, and he wrapped his other arm around her torso, immobilizing her. "Don't move, or I'll make you shoot."

"Chrona, I know you wouldn't make that mistake." She was stalling, he could tell. Waiting for someone to radio her and not report back. He had to act fast.

Slowly starting to move his arm, he kept her talking to distract her, "Who sent you? My mom?"

Luckily, she didn't notice, "No. We've been looking for you since your last disappearance, thirty years ago."

He had to resist the urge to laugh, "You're not making any sense." His hand was on the backpack now, digging into the big pocket for his knife. He didn't want to kill or hurt anyone, but he trusted himself with that more than the gun the woman had.

"Someone with your powers, it's bound to make more sense than you think."

Powers?

Yeah. And you thought it was adrenaline.

But it couldn't be.

It might be.

Chrona shook his head, trying to push away the outrageous thought. His shaking head vibrated the rest of his body, causing his arm to brush against the zipper caught on the blanket. It jingled slightly and Chrona froze, feeling the officer tense up. He made a mad grab in the backpack, a last ditch effort to grab his knife.

The officer twisted away, taking the backpack with her, the teeth of the zipper scraping against Chrona's skin. His hand was full of fleece, hardly a weapon in place of his knife. His opponent pointed her gun at him, but she was out of reach, just a little too far to counterattack before she fired. Desperately, he raised his blanket up as if it could save him, blocking out what little light was filtering into the trunk. The sirens rang in his pounding ears, wailing reminders of the hunt for him.

He wished, more than anything, that he could go back before all this mess, before he'd made so many mistakes. If only he could just fix everything before it happened. He shut his eyes, waiting for the gunshot to ring in his ears. The cold got worse, and Chrona felt as if he couldn't move, like his fear was paralyzing him. His breathing stopped, and he began to panic. Was he dead? Did the officer fire? But the gun had never fired.

The sirens were gone, replaced with the droning pitter patter of light rain. Rain? That couldn't be right. It was snowing before.

Chrona opened his eyes slowly. He was met with the soft glow of clouded twilight, partially obscured by the blanket. He lowered it, letting in the light and allowing him to see the clearing. It was different, not snowy at all, but grassy, lush. Droplets of rain provoked ripples in the grass, the blades shivering like the surface of a green lake.

He shifted his weight, taking in the sudden change in the clearing. The surface of the tree beneath him was spongier, as if less rot had happened than before. His head spun, everything flooding him at once. First the chase, now this.

Eyes forward, Chrona.

What? I'm already so put off, there couldn't possibly be anything else-

Eyes. Forward.

He obeyed, stabilizing himself and looking up, directly across the clearing. He'd glanced over it before, but right at the edge was a decrepit structure of some sort, woven from vines and sticks. Something about it, how small it was, and the way it seemed to have collapsed…

Chrona emerged from his tree trunk, hugging his fleece blanket close to him. The one thing that had traveled with him to wherever this was. Some post mortem dream? An adrenaline hallucination?

Really? Adrenaline again?

Well, if you have a better idea, I'd be glad to hear it.

Padding forward softly, Chrona made his way closer to the tangle of sticks. The rain misted his eyelashes, drenched through his clothes and cooled his skin. He shivered, though it didn't feel like it was from the rain. Something was… drawing him to the structure.

His steps grew more apprehensive, his boots seeming to drag through the damp grass. A gasp reached his ears, weak and low, from behind the screen of wood. He stopped, scanning for breaches in the wood. Slivers of empty space allowed an image to slip through; a small figure, huddled on the ground and shivering. Over the rain, just barely, he could make out it's shallow, gasping breath.

Concern filled his chest and almost against his will, his feet pulled him around to what he assumed was the front of the shelter. Kneeling down to the level of the collapsed entrance, Chrona peered inside, meeting eyes with a small, pale-faced girl.