A/N: Um. Hi. I'm back *dodges eggs* AHHHHH
So... sorry I was M.I.A. In my defense, I had so many quizzes I literally died. Anyway, I was free yesterday so I worked on this.
I used a new writing style here so tell me if you didn't like it, or did.
Again, flames are welcome, reviews appreciated, and thank you to everyone who's reading this! Cookies to y'all!
Chapter 1: How it all began
She's silent, she drifts in and out like a fawn. Footsteps echo behind her; she's not scared, she's frightened, she picks up speed. She's running faster. Now she can't spot the party on her track. Only the shadows remain. They seem to be huddled together. Discussing. No doubt about her whereabouts. One points to his left, the opposite direction, their dogs bay, they howl to the sun.
The assailants' shadows seems to retreat, she's relieved, she backs against a tree and catches her breath. Her chest rises and falls rapidly. She's out of steam, exhausted, she doesn't want to run anymore; but she knows she has to, if she doesn't she's going to end up much worse than she already is, and no matter how bone-weary she was, she only had one job: run. Run faster than her legs could carry her, faster than ever, and don't stop, never stop, not until she's out of the woods, out of breath, out of life. The only place she's safe in is death, only death can protect her, she knows, but she knows every minute she's alive is a blessing, it's a miracle, thank the stars, thank God, etc.
Tired but she'll run on.
It doesn't take much to keep her alive, a spoonful of sugar keeps her awake and kicking for hours, and the basic canteen of water. Thus it doesn't take much to take her down. She's slight, she's lithe, she's nimble, but she's small, so small an adult could easily pin her to the ground. Never mind half a dozen of fully grown men with weapons and hunting dogs and who knows what else, she shudders to imagine.
She gets caught, then it's over.
They would take her in and lie about a witch in the land. Then they'll have every reason to burn her, execute her, hang her, get rid of her. They'd say she was dangerous, a beast on the loose, it looked like a little girl but possessed deadly powers, she could teleport, disappear to appear somewhere else out of thin air in a matter of seconds, she could be anywhere, thank goodness we took care of it, you're welcome.
Or she'd be restrained on a slab of cold metal, she'd be thrashing and yelling, but no one would listen and she knows it's game over when the scientist holds a needle in his hands and aims for her forehead, laughing like a maniac. 'For science'.
The hunters are fading into the sunset. She sighs. Day thirty-five. A whole month, add four days into the sum. Thirty-five days of harsh survival, she's okay, she's alright, for a survivor at least. Apart from few physical wounds and two near-mental breakdowns, she's doing… not good, good was too sugarcoating it, she's doing I survived another day. There. No irony or fancy lies.
She scampers up into a tree and scans the forest, before instincts tell her It's safe, that's true. It's dark but there's no light from anywhere, no sound, no movement anywhere. Her shallow breath rips through the eerily quiet night. The stars twinkle back at her.
She allows herself to slouch and relax a bit. Her senses are still sharp though. Not that she doesn't want to sleep; a deep one sounded too much like a dream you just can't achieve. She's only got hours before she has to rise. The hunters scout the area every day.
Her back rests against the trunk, she's succumbing to slumber, she's trying to stop it, but she can't, she lets out a hoarse yelp before her head hits the tree and dreams wash over her.
She dreams of the future sometimes. Bizarre metaphors of her upcoming chapters. Prophetic dreams, she doesn't really like the name, she's not superstitious in any way. However weird the dreams seem to be when she wakes, they happen, in their own time. A story about a flying frog being hunted by his froggy mates, she realized, was a parallel to how she started her escape. Her dreams mirror her future.
That night a girl comes to her.
There's a young girl, her hair in a sort of cute ponytail bobbing up and down, she looks almost adorable. But she's crying, tears roll down her cheeks, she's also furious, but of all emotions she's screaming Heartbroken, she's crying tears of betrayal, the girl's so fragile she doesn't think picking the girl up and squeezing the little girl in a hug could make matters better.
The little girl's crouching on the floor, head buried in her bed. What's the matter, can I help you, do you want some vanilla beans, don't cry, the dreamer wants to ask, but she's in a dream, she can't find her voice anyway, her throat's all closed up and her own eyes are welling, the child shouldn't suffer, she's ready to sob too. Then the child looks back with swollen eyes. The dreamer turns, she gasps at the boiling lava, but her gaze flickers and follows the girl's. A racetrack hacked into the brown ground, some icicles and pools of cooled lava dots the track. The girl sniffs.
Before she knows it the child's gone, and she's rushing out of the hideout only to find the girl captured and broken pieces of a racecar lying on the ground, beyond repair.
Something colorful catches her attention and she leans down to have a look.
The biggest chunk has Made by Vanellope and Ralph iced on the side.
She's shocked, so shocked that when the first ray of sunlight hits her she loses her balance and falls off the branch, barely gripping the branch underneath and prevent herself from falling to an accident.
She's still hiding.
Day forty-eight.
The hunters still have no clue where she was. Which was a real good change. She's gaining the upper hand, the advantage over her assailants-
She also found a hole in a hollow tree trunk she could squeeze into and had stayed there since day forty.
She's hopping from branch to branch, the hunters are only a few meters away, but she's a natural climber. An exceptional one at that. She can scale up a tree as fast as a person could say 'Thank you'.
She's hugging the tree trunk, listening to the hunters bark at each other, they're arguing, one insists they go left, the other says the right is always the right path. She can't hold back a snicker, a barely audible one. Look up, look up. Your prey is up the tree. Look up, look up. Just one glance and you'll see.
She watches as the hunters split up and scatter into the woods, she's giggling, it's ridiculously hilarious, none of them bothered to look up; it's also a relief though, that they can't see her, that means she's temporarily safe. Temporarily.
One team's scouting near her hideout, she soon realizes with a gasp. Her joy instantly vanishes. Collect evidence like her fingerprints and check every tree and track her down. Then the inevitable capture, who was she kidding? She'd be caught and accused a criminal. And the execution. The king would be free of worry if only he could get rid of her.
Possible it was. She had advantage over them in agility and speed, they had blasters and such, it'd take a chase to bring her down, but it'd be worth it, for they'd imprisoned the kingdom's villain.
She darts nearer, she can see the hunters pondering whether they should explore her tree. They shake their heads, spin on their heels, they leave. She bites her lip, she's grinning too hard, correct my math, I've escaped death a million times now, day forty-eight, I'm still alive? How can this be?
The area's quiet, she can hear the hunters no more.
They walk off, bathing in the serene mandarin glow of the setting sun, she crawls into her tree. She curls underneath her makeshift blanket and she lets the dreams come, the feeling of being followed settle in, she sharpens her senses.
She collapses into slumber.