In Her Arms | Leon Kennedy/Anna the Huntress

1

Pounding heart. Moist forehead. Boots clamoring across the forest flooring. Snapping twigs. Crackling leaves. Gun in hand. The snarling of turned dogs chasing him. Then the ripping of flesh on the back of his arm and the shirt under this police vest leaving with it.

Leon howls a deep, pained voice, gnashing his teeth as the stimuli of agony wounds his nerves. Blond hair falls in his eyes. If he can make it to high ground, he can start to fire back at them. But he doesn't have a bulk of bullets, he can't risk missing a single shot.

His eyes snap forward once again, his arm snapping to his side to hold the bitten flesh. He's so tired, he's been running for what feels like ages. His leg hurts enough for him to want to cry, scratched from the nails of these dogs only minutes before. His hair is matted in blood and dirt. Just a little farther. Just a little farther.

The barking which was only a few feet behind him sounds further. The primary sounds echoing throughout his head are the stomping of his feet and the rustling of fallen leaves. Just a few more feet in distance and he'll feel safe enough to turn. He can't risk getting bitten again, he's sure the first time was enough risk. Who knows what diseases and viruses those dogs are carrying?

He tries to regulate his inhales, panting as he pushes his body past limits he didn't know he could break. Just a bit further, then he can find Claire and Sherry, where they'd been split up just after the train station. He hopes they're alright.

Leon notices a thick fog forming in front of him, dark, almost black. Leon stays vigilant, distrustful of if it's poisonous or, perhaps, contains particles of the virus. However, the barking behind him is even more terrifying. If he delays even a moment, there's no doubt he'll be ripped to shreds. It's either death or death. Leon keeps sprinting.

As he approaches the thick smog, the dogs not far from his heels, he feels a sudden cold dread wash over his body, bathing him. Leon's fear magnifies, his feet kick at the ground harder, adrenaline filling him with vigor far greater than his body would every succeed otherwise. He can still hear their paws on the leaves, but as he treks further, they grow muted.

He hears the barking begin to subside, drawing itself further and further away until Leon hears nothing but an echo of what it once was. He must be far from them. When Leon feels as if he's a safe distance away, he turns on his heels, wincing with the pain as he pulls his gun up straight, aiming for the dense fog behind him. He waits, watching the smoke for the dogs. His eyes dart everywhere, caution and alarms screaming at him to stay quick on his toes.

Leon's head spins just the slightest, growing stronger the longer he waits. His chest pounds, fear holding him impossibly still. He doesn't hear the barking, doesn't hear the pawing of claws on rustling leaves. He grows suspicious, unsure of why they'd suddenly stopped. Maybe they're scared of the smog. He doesn't want to take that as a good sign.

He's still panting as hard as he was when he was running, but he can't seem to slow it down. He needs to watch for these dogs, they're coming soon, but his head is spinning so hard, his heart is heavy–his whole chest is heavy.

"Where are you?" Leon pants to himself, turning his gun from one side of him to the other. Just the movement makes him feel even heavier. He needs to find Claire and Sherry if those dogs are off his heel. He needs to find them. He needs to save them. He needs to fix this mess. "Claire!"

There's no reply, he can barely see straight. He calls her name again a tad weaker this time, growing more scared by the second. He doesn't know what's happening, he tries stumbling forward out of the fog, but his legs feel so heavy. "Claire!"

The more of this fog he breathes, the harder it is to breathe. The harder it is to think. The harder it is to do anything. "Cl... Claire..."

Leon falls to his knees, crying out in pain as he falls to the severe scrapes of his knees. He's so dizzy, so tired. He can't even sit up straight. He's losing consciousness. Claire .