Wings of a Feather

Chapter 1

Heather has always hated thunderstorms.

Not that anyone could really blame her, if anyone even knew.

Ever since she was little, bad things only seemed to happen to her when lightening streaked across the sky. For instance, it was storming outside the night her parents died. And it was also storming the first night the hunters came for her.

It was as if even the weather loved mocking her misfortunes.

Heather urged her feet to run faster, not daring to glance over her shoulder to see how close her attackers had gotten. She could hear the heavy footsteps of the five-or-so large men chasing her, pounding against the gravel behind her and echoing through the seemingly empty street.

Her backpack full of the few possessions she owned, was still slung securely over her back. And luckily, she had made sure to pack light in case she had to make a run for it. Like she did now.

The only source of light came from the streetlights above her shadowed silhouette, and the occasional window in some of the houses she passed by. But for the most part, everyone seemed to be fast asleep, as would be expected this early in the morning. Or maybe it was still night. Heather honestly didn't have a clue, and she was too intent on staying alive to worry about it.

"Don't let her get away!" An angry voice shouted from farther back, and she heard a low grunt of acknowledgement respond from the man closest behind her.

Heather couldn't tell what they really wanted from her, but having them murder her parents and chase her around the country like a wild animal, was a pretty apparent indication that she really didn't want to stick around to find out.

When they first barged into her house ten years ago, her instincts immediately told her to run like hell. And she has soon come to recognize, that her instincts were usually right.

So although their intentions were unclear, Heather knew one thing for sure.

Under no circumstances can I let them catch me.

In one last resort to shake them off her trail, Heather took a sharp right turn- nearly losing her balance in the process- and managed to keep running at her top speed. It seemed to work, taking her assailants by surprise and giving the young girl enough time to slip out of sight before they could see where she had gone.

That was one of the few benefits of living such a life style, Heather had discovered quite bitterly. Her slim build was trained and well-fitted for survival. Years of being chased after had made her faster and more clever than most, needing to be able to slither out of any bad situation without any time to think.

And these days, Heather seemed to never be short of bad situations.

Ducking back behind a large dumpster and squeezing up between it and a suspiciously slimy brick wall, she held her breath as the hunters stopped meters away from where she had just been.

"Damn it!" She vaguely recognized the voice of the leader with his gruff, deep, and extremely pissed off voice. Or, what she had always assumed to be the leader, judging from his commanding tone and  confident presence.

A chorus of groans sounded, followed by the sharp sound of a fist on metal. Heather couldn't help but jump slightly in surprise, before realizing that one of them must have punched the dumpster.

"How long have we been chasing this one?" Another voice asked in annoyance.

Someone snorted. "Too long."

"Yeah, ten years too long." The leader's voice snapped, and everyone else grew silent.

After a moment of silence, the leader sighed and went on. "OK, split up and search the town. She couldn't have gotten far."