The gun went off and each man was still. Then slowly the poet unsnarled himself, pushing free from underneath the load of Trevor's body. Allixon opened her mouth to scream, however no sound came out.
"You broth my futhing nose." He turned his head to the facet, and spat blood, then limped a step toward her, stopping, wincing with pain and swearing once his weight shifted to the unhealthy knee.
He had the gun in his hand. Trevor hadn't emotional. Allixon insured quickly, tripped over one amongst the rocks and fell on her butt. She fumbled within the bag and force out one amongst the flares.
"What square measure you aiming to do, signal for help?" He laughed and raised the gun.
Allixon pointed the flare at his chest, yanked the wire, and prayed.
It appeared as if everything visited pic
