A Rude Awakening

Mercy awakens with a violent start. A fly keeps buzzing into and around her face in a seeming attempt to wake her. She shoos at the insect uncaring for the loud creaking noises that are emanating from the barn because of it.

She looks out at the barn. In the light, it looks much kinder than it had in the night. She wonders if it had been used recently since it looked this good, aside from her dried pool of blood and her barricaded pile of debris.

Sure there were some panels missing here and there, but it would disguise her presence fairly well from a distance.

The fly was back at it, flying towards the door and then back to her.

Mercy searched to find its companions from the night before, only to find them lying very still, covered in her own blood.

Then she hears a "bark".

"Fuck" she curses, not even knowing what the word means.

Mercy becomes incredibly alert. She had been careless for a moment, but she cannot focus on that. Now she needs to remain hidden, or escape. Dogs sometimes come with-

"Here, girl. Here, Nessie. There is either nothing in that old barn, or we'll become nothing in if there is."

The boy's voice sounded young, so Mercy at least had that going for her. He was also kind towards the dog, but who knows if that would translate to her.

Shuffling both as quickly and quietly as Mercy could manage while staying below the windows' line of sight, she scooped up the make-shift knife as well as the dead rat. The other knife stayed tucked into the knot she had made the night prior.

Keeping her back to the wall closest to the voice, she made it to the side of the barn without a wall.

Mercy had two thoughts bouncing around her brain.

One was that she was grateful that the boy came from one of the walled sides of the barn, but that also made her wonder what would have happened if that weren't the case? She was almost completely defenseless.

At this moment she decided she needed to change that. Mercy needed a power that could protect herself, and allow her to be free of fear.

Her second thought was less serious and more prideful. She must have guessed the correct general direction toward civilization for the way "he who shall not be named" fled, is the same direction that her assumed alarm clock came from.

She exited the barn in a low crouch, the dog and the boy to her left, the open entrance to her back, and headed to the right. Moving clockwise around the barn she noted the boy's nervousness as he spoke next

"Nessie please, do you want to get me killed? That is Wabloo barn, if something is dead in there it's because the Bogart killed it. Let's head back."

Mercy's newfound knowledge did not include what a Bogart was, or why she was unharmed by it. She had no recollection of such a creature appearing last night. It had just been her, the rat, and those flies.

Speaking of the rat Mercy was hoping if she took the scent away from the barn the dog may leave her be. It could also have had the opposite effect if the dog comes toward her.

The voices got closer still.

"The Bogart would have chucked a stone or two by now… maybe it moved down the Ley lines now that we're all coming back. I wonder what's being hoarded inside."

Mercy found the referred to pile of stones under the window on the opposite side as the boy. She couldn't have him getting too close to the barn. She may have left behind clues, or he may see her blood, or worse, he'll see her through the holes in the walls.

If she ran it she might be heard, and she doesn't know if she could outrun the dog.

If she stays she could be found.

So Mercy found a happy medium.

At this point Mercy could see the duo's vague figures as she tosses the rat in her hand a few times, testing the weight.

As they approach the barn and are about to enter the zone in which she could be seen, Mercy lobbs the rat over the entire barn and hopes it will land behind the group.

It does.

A maniacal grin jumps onto her face as she hears their collective yelp of surprise and uses the distraction to dash into the woods opposite them.

Once in the woods, Mercy takes stock of her surroundings. The trees and flora are dense enough to provide a shielded view from a cursory glance but still allow her to track the retreating figures.

The fly is back with her as she moves as swiftly through the woods as possible. She must round the clearing before she loses complete sight of the duo.

At this point her stomach is grumbling and her throat has an unfamiliar dryness. She must find the nearest settlement, and fast. Who knows how long her body can hold on.