Super big thank you goes out to the super talented -november for the drop dead AMAZING cover! I love it so much!

An arrow flew past Cayson; inches away from making a home in his arm. It soared under him and hit the nearest person in the chest. They collapsed in front of Cayson, allotting him no other choice than to hurdle over the lifeless body.

This isn't right, haven't I been through enough hell?

"Move!" Mason bellowed, leading the already thinning flock. Finley was right on Mason's heels, dodging an inward bound arrow by chucking himself in the opposite direction while Emery and Marcy trailed behind. Cayson could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, contributing to the surging motivation to keep running.

He wasn't sure how many people they'd lost already but, more importantly, Cayson didn't want his name to be added to the list.

The pounding of his shoes reverberated in his ears; the only other audible sound being the hammering of his heartbeat.

Up ahead, he inspected the remaining survivors as they dispersed. Mason and Finley swerved to the left while the three others swung right. Cayson was approaching the point where everyone had detached but he was inept to make a choice.

As an alternative he remained on his frontward path. Cayson could sense the hunter's presence behind him and the terror of them closing in drove him faster; he soared amid the trees.

Cayson felt like an animal; the hunters were gaining and though he was fighting with every ounce of his being deep down he knew he'd be defeated. That overpowering portion of himself that desired to give up had been present for years. It hung over his head at all times. Nonetheless, it was presently stronger than ever.

A yelp caught him off guard. Cayson went to peer over his shoulder but in its place misplaced his footing; he plummeted. The ground before him sloped and he trundled. Cayson strained to clutch a chunk of dirt; a handful of grass; or something, anything, to prevent him from carrying on his plunge.

His wrist splintered in the same instant that his skull linked with a rock. It all transpired so hastily that when Cayson banged into the trunk of a tree, which had acted on behalf of a barricade, he still hadn't registered the agony.

He just gawked at the numerous tree tops, his incapacitated mind preoccupied as blood pooled down his face. Panting, he unconstrained his internal demon whom was uttering gratifying thoughts of death. He'd pleaded for death in the past years, did Cayson still want it now?

No.

Cayson whimpered, stroking his throbbing wrist as he drew it into his chest.

He had an unidentified number of monsters hurtling after him and discontinuing his fight was an automatic forfeit he'd pay for with his life. Cayson wasn't going to endure as much pain as he had his whole lifetime to merely quit when Robin Hood and his band of merry manslaughters had a lust for blood.

He caught sight of one of the trees that laid at the base of the hill. Its roots overlapped one another which shaped a small cave-like structure.

Cayson made an effort to stand but crumbled in loss as the harsh aching of his side was too much to handle. Even so, the roaring steps of a impending stranger was the perfect amount of inspiration he needed to block out the stinging, flash to his feet, and virtually bound into the shelter.

Cayson coiled awkwardly into the fortress, slanting his head back he brittly sucked in air; even inhaling hurt. He was enticed to pinch himself, the whole situation had to be a nightmare. People didn't just wake up in the woods with no recollection of how they got there. People weren't pursued by bow welding psychos.

Cayson was still vexing to catch his breath from the twenty minutes of uninterrupted sprinting but the horror of the circumstances made achieving this goal improbable. The growing volume of a strangers stomps made it worse. Once whoever was incoming was basically on top of him Cayson flung a hand over his mouth; he couldn't silence himself.

Two pairs of feet zoomed by, ceasing a foot or so away.

"We have to keep going," Emery huffed as Marcy ripped her hand from Emery's clutch. Emery relocated her own to her knees; the two brawled to regain their breath.

"I want to go home," Marcy sobbed.

"I know sweetie," Emery paused to kneel in front of her. "We have to keep moving. I promise, you're going to get home, okay?"

If Emery and Marcy were safe whoever had been after them hadn't followed; it was safe. He started to surface, tremendously uncomfortable.

"It's okay -" An arrow came to rest in the tree that Cayson had clashed into. He withdrew into hiding the same instant Emery whirled around wide-eyed. Someone landed inches from Cayson, their dark boots the only visual item he could see.

"Please," Emery gasped, springing to her feet she thrust Marcy behind her. The shooter sedately moved in enough for Cayson to conclude that it was a man. As he strolled he swung his bow around his wrist but once he'd reached his destination, which was settling unnervingly close to them, he set it against the ground and supported himself with it.

"Begging just . . . seemed beneath you." The man's taunting made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his stomach turn. Possibly the most petrifying characteristic of the hunter was his smirk. Emery was quaking in dread which emanated onto Marcy.

"We'll do anything . . . She's just a kid, please." Luck had elected to be kind to Cayson as this specific predator didn't notice his attendance; he was fully engrossed in Emery.

"All I want you to do is die," he chuckled. Marcy wailed and made an effort to get as far as away as probable. He shifted swiftly: plucking an arrow from the pouch on his back, he set it on the shaft, and aimed at Emery; Marcy froze. "Don't move."

Cayson had been supplied with an exceptional opportunity. He was safe for the time being. All he had to do was stay inaudible and motionless. He refocused his gaze on Emery. Tears gushed down her reddened cheeks and observing her in that state broke his heart.

Could Cayson sit back and watch her die?

One thing he couldn't comprehend was what was so unique about Emery. He hadn't encountered her at any point in his life and the two had only disputed from the time when they awoke to now.

Yet he'd felt something.

And that sensation was solid enough to take his first-class chance and flush it down the toilet. Cayson shuffled onward, grasping Emery's eye. He placed a finger to his lips as he sought to take advantage of the element of surprise.

"Before you kill us, don't you want to know the truth?" Emery inquired, locking eyes with the hunter. The man snorted at her remark. Cayson used Emery as his point of focus, hopeful that guarding her would be a tough enough motive to numb his pain.

"And what truth is this?" He countered with a laugh. Cayson latched onto a neighboring rock, hurdling to his feet.

"Always check your surroundings," Cayson answered. The man twisted around with his brow upraised, Cayson banging the rock into his head. He collided with the ground, bow skidding out of his reach as did his leather back quiver. Cayson advanced speedily: shifting on top of him; seizing him by his collar; and raising the rock to transport a second blow. The hunter retorted more rapidly than Cayson had projected.

He clogged Cayson's motion as he went to strike the hunter a second time. The Hunter sucker punched Cayson, who soared flat on his back. The Hunter didn't bother to shake off his injuries as homicide was in his frame of mind. Cayson hurled the rock at his head, flipping onto his stomach so he could crawl for a more destructive weapon: an arrow.

His fingers brushed against one of the few arrows shafts the instant The Hunter took a hold of Cayson's ankle and jerked him backward. Cayson burrowed his fingers into the dirt in an effort to stall The Hunter. Nonetheless, it proved ineffective.

He put his boot into Cayson's side which overturned him onto his back. Cayson moaned from the painful sensation as The Hunter enveloped his hands around Cayson's throat.

"Why don't you make sure you can take someone before attacking?" The Hunter spat.

"Go! Now!" Emery screamed, jostling Marcy. Marcy wavered in the beginning but was firmly inclined by Emery shoving her away. She eventually did as she was told, taking off in a dead sprint.

Emery dove for the rock Cayson had allowed to fall from his fingers and flung it at The Hunter's head; he didn't even flinch. She hastily decided to jump onto The Hunters back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

The Hunter freed Cayson so he could sit up, grasp a chunk of her hair, tear her off, and send Emery smashing into an adjacent tree with a tender blow, knocking her unconscious. Cayson bellowed in ferocity, tackling The Hunter who turned the tables and alternated the two so he once more would hold the upper hand.

The Hunter extended his hand into his boot and shoved out a deer stalking blade, sticking the sharp tip of the knife blade against his neck; Cayson coming to a standstill.

"You were so close," he derided. "Almost made it, didn't you?" Cayson made a frantic effort to break free but The Hunter merely pressed the knife deeper into his neck, piercing the skin: any movement from Cayson would be his end.

"Screw you," Cayson hissed.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The Hunter chortled.

"Just kill me, you son of a bitch!" Cayson barked through clenched teeth. He'd always speculated how his life would end and Cayson honestly never thought it would be this way.

"And let a scum like you die so easily?" He leered. "Tell me, Cayson. Did you ever think you'd die like this?" Cayson's high-speed pulsating heart stopped.

"How the hell do you know my name?"

"I know a lot about you," he snickered. "Since were so well acquainted, here's what I'm going to do for you . . . first, I'm going to kill that looker you got back there," he pointed in Emery's direction. "Then I'm going to torture you. Not for information or anything like that; just for the hell of it. You're worth the most dead or alive . . . Do me a favor buddy, hold this." He propelled his knife into Cayson's bicep. The anguish was indescribable.

His first and only reaction was to scream. Cayson strived to consider the fact that The Hunter was not far from murdering Emery. He tried to ponder the people, well person, who'd he'd be leaving behind. Nevertheless, he couldn't get past the hurt long enough to mull over anything else.

The Hunter clamped his hand over Cayson's mouth to mute him.

"Shh," he tittered. "Though I love the sound of you slowly dying, I don't want the others to come investigate . . . you're my kill." Cayson bawled into his hand. "Don't go soft on me just yet, this is just a warmup."

Cayson mourned departing his ray of safety. Every inch of him burnt as if he'd been pitched into a trench of fire while pulsating a stinging pain that could be associated to being dumped into a wood chipper. The gloomy hand of death was gradually holding him.

Emery clasped one of The Hunter's arrows and progressed without a sound. She knifed him in the back of his shoulder. His mouth gaped open, alarmed. Powered by rage, Cayson kicked him square in the jaw. The Hunter's head crushed back and his body powdered to the ground; he was motionless.

Cayson gasped, quivering as blood oozed down his forehead and arm.

Though death was no longer staring him in the face, it wasn't far off.