Embrace the wild

So This Is What Freedom Feels Like

It was day three on the trek north. The snow crunched under their boots, white stretching endlessly around them. Trees lined the edges of the path, skeletal and silent, shadows cutting across the ground like fingers. Leigh led the way, hair spilling from her braid, eyes glittering with that untamed spark she carried everywhere.

“Allie,” she said, crouching behind a snow-covered boulder, “How’s your delicate stomach handling this? Or do you need a timeout before we get eaten by wolves?”

“All the delicate bits got eaten a long time ago,” Allie muttered, adjusting her pack. “I only have sarcasm left. And it’s mostly lethal. Probably keeps predators away. Definitely keeps humans away.”

Leigh laughed, low and wild. “I like lethal sarcasm. Keeps the walk entertaining.”

They trudged onward, their boots slipping on icy patches, their fingers numb despite the gloves. Allie’s dark humor didn’t stop her from keeping an eye on her surroundings, scanning for any signs of Hunters or worse. “You know,” she said, kicking at the snow with her boot. “If someone tried to ambush us right now, I’d probably die laughing before I got killed. At least I’d die entertained.”

Leigh grinned, sliding down a small incline and landing in a pile of snow. “I’m counting on it! And I’d probably start singing or something ridiculous. Think they’d respect that?”

“You’d annoy them long enough for me to gut them,” Allie replied, without missing a beat. “It’s a solid plan. And hey, you’ve got style points for snow acrobatics.”

They paused near a frozen creek to catch their breath. Allie pulled out a thermos, taking a sip of lukewarm tea. “Mm, nothing says survival like slightly bitter tea and frostbite. Delicious.”

Leigh smirked, tucking her braid behind her ear. “And here I thought frostbite was just a legend. Thanks for the reality check, Dark Humor Queen.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Call me that one more time, and I’ll make sure you’re the first to fall behind.”

“Worth it,” Leigh said, brushing the snow from her jacket. “Besides, you know me—I fall behind in style. And survive in chaos.”

As they walked, they reached the outskirts of a small town, the lights faint against the evening sky. Leigh’s eyes lit up. “Look, civilization! Maybe a hot shower, a bed, and a snack that isn’t half-frozen. I vote we risk being seen for it.”

Allie glanced around, wary, but followed. “Risk being seen… by what? Probably a few nosy locals, maybe a serial killer. But sure, why not? Let’s introduce ourselves.” She smirked. “I’ll be the sarcastic one. You be the wild one. Classic us.”

Inside the small bar attached to the hotel, conversation stopped briefly as they walked in. Allie’s hand hovered near her pack, the knife reassuring in her palm. Leigh leaned over the bar, flashing that feral grin.

“Two beers. And food. Rare. Survival style,” she said.

The bartender, an older man with a gruff face, nodded. “Coming right up.”

Allie leaned on the counter, smirking. “So, you ever see two girls walk in with snow in their hair, frost on their boots, and kill-or-be-killed looks? No? Well, tonight’s your lucky night.”

Leigh snorted. “She’s charming, isn’t she?”

“All charm, all lethal,” Allie said, taking a long sip of her beer. “Keep your eyes open and your hands near weapons, kids. Lessons in survival are coming up.”

They ate quickly, burgers rare as promised. Leigh ripped hers apart with unapologetic ferocity while Allie carefully dissected hers, fries disappearing one by one.

“Do you think mom and dad got our texts?” Leigh asked quietly, her voice tinged with worry.

Allie’s eyes darkened, but she kept her tone sardonic. “If they didn’t, I’d say we’ve got bigger problems than missing sleep. And don’t look at me like that—I’m still funny under pressure.”

Leigh laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re terrible. But I’d follow you into hell, just for the commentary.”

By the time they made it to their hotel room, night had fully set in. They showered quickly, then lay side by side in the small bed, the TV flickering with static noise. Allie stared at the ceiling, mind racing with possibilities—and quips.

“You know,” she said softly, “if the Hunters catch up to us tonight, I hope they appreciate my sense of humor. Nothing kills like a good joke before death.”

Leigh rolled over, eyes glinting in the dim light. “And if they try anything, I’ll make sure they regret waking up this morning.”

Allie smirked. “Sounds like a solid plan. You handle the chaos. I’ll handle the snark. Between the two of us, they don’t stand a chance.”

Snow had turned to ice in patches, and the surrounding forest had grown silent—too silent. Allie crouched behind a fallen tree, peering into the shadows. Her breath made little clouds in the freezing air.

“See that?” she whispered, nodding toward a twisted shape in the snow. “Either it’s a Hunter lying in wait, or some poor moose that forgot how to survive. Either way, someone’s about to regret it.”

Leigh snorted behind her, already scanning the treeline with predatory focus. “You always have to make it sound dramatic. Can’t we just sneak past like normal people?”

“All normal people eat first,” Allie muttered, adjusting her pack. “Trust me. I did a full study. Step one: be me. Step two: survive. Step three: make jokes while running for your life. Optional: leave a witty quip in blood for the next moron who shows up.”

Leigh rolled her eyes, but a grin spread across her face. “Only you could make survival sound like a stand-up routine.”

Allie crawled forward a few feet, peeking around a tree. “Yep. Definitely a Hunter. Or a very enthusiastic bear. Either way, good news: they won’t expect sarcasm as a weapon.”

Leigh drew her knife silently, crouching low. “We’re not here for small talk. Ready?”

“Born ready,” Allie replied. “Mostly because I have no choice. And because I enjoy terrifying predators with my impeccable charm.”

The two moved forward, silent shadows on the snow, until the Hunter or whatever it was stepped into a clearing. Allie froze. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, “Note to myself: I could totally make a career as a frozen statue impersonator. Start practicing now.”

Leigh tensed beside her. “Don’t make jokes, Allie. We need to”

“Freeze in terror like everyone else!” Allie whispered, cutting her off. “Exactly. Step one: blend in. Step two: survive. Step three: Leave a snarky comment about their life choices. Honestly, I’m thinking it’ll go viral in the Hunter community.”

Leigh gave her a look but couldn’t help laughing quietly. They moved as one, weaving between trees, Allie whispering commentary like a running play-by-play:

“Oh, look at that! Perfect shot for a dramatic ambush. Too bad I’m already three moves ahead. Ha! Suck it, fate!”

The Hunter paused, confused by the movement—or maybe the faint echo of laughter. Allie smirked, low and wicked. “Nothing like psyching out your enemy with dark humor. Works every time… mostly.”

By the time they had slipped past the clearing, Leigh was shaking her head, grinning despite herself. “You’re insane.”

Allie shrugged, brushing snow off her gloves. “And I’m alive. See? Dark humor works. Now, let’s get moving before your wildness attracts more attention than my charm.”

Leigh laughed, picking up the pace. “Fine. But admit it—you love this chaos.”

“All chaos is improved with sarcasm,” Allie replied, kicking at the snow. “And if we die out here, at least I’ll go laughing.”