I whip my head around as I hear the crunch of a footstep coming from the north side of the forest. Reaching for my knife, I stay low behind the boulder, my only barrier between me and the person who's out for my life. I press my back against the cold stone, my breathing heavy. I knew my little safe haven was never going to last, but my disappointment still sinks into my stomach.
The footsteps are right behind the rock, and I decide my only hope is to take the offense. I'm done hiding and hoping to avoid the conflict. I need my first kill if I want to make it out of this hell. I breathe quietly and slowly raise my knife. 'It's okay. You're ready. You just have to not panic. Breathe. And go in 3… 2… 1.'
I jump out from behind the rock and raise the blade above my head, ready to strike. Then my brain finally processes the face of the boy that stands before me. I drop the knife.
"Peter?"
