Shattered Line

Chapter 1: The Beginning or the End?

Not much longer.

Isla pressed the thought, her breathing ragged and rough. Her footsteps thundered against the forest floor. Each duck and dodge added ample distance between herself and her pursuers.

The treetop plafond receded and her running stalled. A brief stint of moonlight enveloped her body, the mystic hue beckoning her sight like fine laced brandy. One second more, and the view vanished.

"There she be!" bellowed a deep, hoarse voice.

An arrow nicked her arm, tearing clothes and grazing skin.

Isla tsked and resumed her pace. Give them one chance and escape dwindled. They had appeared incompetent and lazy, like the fool who challenged her. But now? No, now they hunted.

The flat muddied woodland before her angled. Between the exposed roots and poor traction, one misstep, and her lives flashed before her. Still, Isla launched herself at the sloping obstacle. Forget the risk, armed men chased her tail, thirsting for blood. Even she wouldn't accept death with open arms.

With large trunks for support, she balanced her descent. The bark's grooves indented their marks upon her flesh. Twigs scratched her body, their sharp ends clinging to her cloak. Each addition strengthened the resistance, but Isla wrenched the cloth and freed herself.

Another arrow plunked above her head, splintering wood. Chips of bark hurled at her, pecking her face. She reacted, shielding with an arm, but the simple movement shifted her equilibrium.

She burrowed in deep with her heels. Yet, roots snagged her legs and the mud coaxed her footing. The forest's foundation endured the grapple, buckling her feet and lurching her forward. Instinctively, she grabbed an overhead branch and eased her momentum. Dropping and wrapping her arms around her head, she slid down the remaining incline.

Mud matted her back and the wet, chilling wind smacked her face. She groaned, rolling over. For once, couldn't escape be easy?

Isla humphed and stumbled upwards on loose rocks, advancing forward. One second lost could undo her effort. The arrow bearing her name would arrive, striking her beating heart. She coughed, stifling the sound.

Soon, her time would come, she could taste the freedom.

She shoved through the dense foliage, protecting herself against piercing twigs and thorns. Bolting into a narrow clearing, Isla halted.

A man with snow-white hair and irises replicating the sun stood before her. His otherworldly appearance conflicted with the pale low-class overcoat he wore. No shred of identity or race marked him to others. With the moonlight glimpse fleeing, a shadow inched across his stone-cold face. Accompanied with a wide-open stance and arms crossed, he dominated the forest.

Her time stopped—it was Skye.

Warmth evaporated from her veins like water touching a white, molten star. Her pumping blood slowed, her adrenaline sapped. The solidification expanded, entrapping her whole body and shackling her legs.

She had expected Skye ever since she saw the wanted notice and heard the words of Maron's elder. But not this soon, not to mention within the forest.

Isla cleared her throat, calming her breathing. "Why are you here?"

"Does it matter?" Skye retorted.

"I'd say yes," she mocked, placing her hands on her hips. "Aren't I allowed to know if you'll kill me or not? Or is that another grand secret for me to uncover?"

"Complaining about your failures only shows your immaturity."

"Hurry, ye fools," a voice resounded.