WMC Radio (ColorCrew+)

Chapter Two: Blind Omen

As the forest began to become background, I finally rethought the interaction. I pocketed my trade reward, and threw up my axe, catching it elegantly. My hands gripped it and a finger repeatedly stroked and scratched the handle.

Occasionally I threw my head over my shoulder to check if I'm being followed. As plains grew ahead of me, I recognized there'd be nowhere to hide...for either party.

I could die here...that would be sad and pathetic. I'd have plenty of space to run, yes, but I'd be competing with the group on stamina, that's it. If a single one of them could last longer than me, not considering if they are faster too, I'd be done for. I had pretty good endurance, and obviously could run pretty well, but I had no doubt they had professional training from people who know what they are doing. I would not lie and say that they aren't smarter than me.

I remembered my upper hand, and thought of how even that wouldn't work. We'd have to fight his friends to death, while being outnumbered with no advantage, and most likely would need to permanently kill them. Im sure he would at the very least be wary of that idea.

My keen eyes patrolled the lands in front of me, my fast pace not stopping. I urged myself to quicken my pace and find more height. A suitable hill rolled up in front of a smaller hill I had climbed, and I leaped across the gap, hands outreached. Like a cat, I gripped on and swiftly flung my body forward.

I looked around at the plains ahead. I'd bet 16 minutes of walking. But I wasn't going to be walking. I don't think you could even consider this running.

My body blended with the wind as I let it lead me further, my time on the ground little and used for the benefit of air. I glided periodically, pushing farther; my training was serving me well. I needed not to know where ground was, for I could even feel it and sense it. Somehow I just knew where gravity would pull me away from my synchronization, and my body knew how to get back.

It felt so focused, so powerful, so controlled. As if nothing else existed, blissful. I was so centered on myself and the pure idea of getting to where I needed to get. If they had immerged, I hadn't noticed. I hadn't noticed anything in a while.

My track was so pulled, strong and sturdy. Like a rope it lead me on with it's stiff pull, urging no pause. Like a rope, higher powers can destroy it quickly as well.

Suddenly, I was plunged into a crack that was hidden behind a hanging patch of . The tip of my foot slipped in, and my ankle snapped with a fall forward. I quickly stabbed my elbows into the ground, and let my hands take most of the fall. The pressure wasn't much of a discomfort, yet I hissed in anger at my situation.

I was blinded by anger to my injury and couldn't even feel it as I trudged slowly into the forest, falling beside a pond with overhanging trees. I was enraged at my carelessness, and even more at my change of plans. I had forgotten to listen for them since I first entered the plains. My hopes were set on distraction.

I started grabbing at branches, my mind leaving the blind power and now on creating. I needed a split, badly. I wondered if the pond was clean at all, so I put a tester in while I tested sticks. Most were small but weak, and a few were strong but big. I had to keep it in place, so I scavenged for more ideas as previous ones disintegrated in my mind.

I finally reached a solid idea, and unluckily I still had to find wood. Sturdy wood. My eyes were back to scanning and I hobbled over to a tree that was shedding, hard. The tree didn't look bad, but it sure didn't look totally okay. The trunk was healthy and new sprouts were plentiful on one side of it. The other looked torn off, and below lay have of the tree, inevitably doomed by something like a storm.