Prologue
377 Words
Rams Cottage, 1 a.m.
The woodland had paws and teeth.
That load of rocks and thistles and branches bit at Freya as she ran shouting through the forest. Yet, she didn't stop. Not when rocks delved into the bottoms of her uncovered feet. Not when a whip-dainty branch lashed her face and a line of blood streaked across her cheek.
Halting wasn't an alternative. To stop was to pass on. So she continued running even as a thorn folded over her lower leg and distressed her tissue. The thorn extended, shuddering before Freya's force yanked herself free. If it hurt, she was unable to tell. Her body previously held more agony than it could deal with.
It was nature that made her run. Oblivious information that she expected to continue onward, regardless. As of now, she had failed to remember why. Recollections of five, ten, fifteen minutes prior were gone. On the off chance that her life relied upon recalling what provoked her trip through the forest, she was sure she'd pass on not too far off on the backwoods floor.
So she ran. She shouted. She did whatever it took not to contemplate biting the dust.
A white gleam showed up somewhere far off, faint along the tree-gagged skyline.
Headlights.
Is it true that she was almost a street? Freya trusted she was. Like her recollections, all ability to know east from the west was lost.
She ran quicker, expanded her shouts, dashed toward the light.
Another branch whacked her face. It was thicker than the principal, similar to a moving pin, and the effect both paralyzed and dazed her. Torment beat through her head as blue flashes pulsated across her obscured vision. At the point when they cleared, she saw an outline hanging out in the headlights' sparkle.
A man.
Him.
No. Not him.
Another person.
Security.
Freya stimulated her speed. Her blood-doused arms connected as though that could happen by one way or another draw the more peculiar nearer. The development made the torment in her shoulder flare. Also, with the aggravation came not a memory but rather an acknowledgement. One so severely horrendous that it must be valid.
Just Freya remained.
All the others were dead.
She was the last one remaining alive.
- Writer
