Hunted In A Hunt (1)

Isadora's desperate breaths filled the air, drowned by the pounding of her heartbeat.

She glanced over her shoulders now and then, to catch a glimpse of him—but only the dark woods greeted her.

But she knew it—felt it. He was watching her.

She was determined to put up as much distance as she could.

But her leg hindered her from doing so. Her desperate attempts to get away were suddenly turning into a pathetic mission.

As if the gods had further damned her fate, she tripped and her face landed on the dirt.

In ragged breaths, she sat up—crawling if she had to, but she had sprained her ankle again. The violent pain became harsher to bear, tears threatened to fall as she held onto it.

"Come on!" she begged, summoning her weaves but they weren't responding at all.

Even her hands were damning her too.

She was being hunted and yet there was nothing she could do. What was left for her to do? Let the darkness claim her?