The mist
Panting, Hayato fell to the ground.
There was a buzz in his ears that made it difficult to grasp what was going on around him. The incoherent pattern ringing in his ears was made up of slight variations between high buzz and low buzz. Hayato felt a slightly nauseating feeling creeping up his throat. He tried to force a heavy breath but found he couldn't catch much air.
The dense tension of just moments ago had all but evaporated in the crisp morning mist that hovered inches above the stony ground. It crossed Hayato's mind that it even managed to cover up most of his blood's smell.
As delicate, pale hands suddenly and urgently pressed down on his shoulder blades and as another heavy breathing crept closer and approached his already sore eardrums, Hayato couldn't help himself but ponder the irony of that mist. Hadn't it been there, the hunters might have actually found him. Instead of acting as a cover for him, it had been a perfect cover for them.
Whereas Hayato had expected the breathing to halt at the nape of his neck, instead it continued to trail upward, closing in on his face. In some faraway place, soundless seconds must have ticked away on an imaginary clockwork.
Face down, Hayato couldn't see anything. Not the bleak sky overhead or the shiny white boots of the man that pressed down on him. He couldn't see the marble teeth but suddenly felt them caressing his skin. He couldn't see that man's grin, but thought he heard a girlish chuckle.
All he could see was the mist, which turned black-red just moments later as fresh blood ran down his face, only to be sucked in by the unmoved earth.
