beta reader: shadowwing135

The Dance of the Hare

"Damn, I can´t see shit in this darkness."
"Use your Tac Light."
"And what you think I´m doing? Fuck!"
The FBI agent looked annoyed to the ground and tried to regain his balance by reaching for a tree. To do so, he had to take his left hand off his weapon.
"Keep your guard up, Brewster, you heard what the boss said," the sergeant urged
"Yes, sir"
The agent turned his attention back to the forest. For several hours already the five-man squad was stomping through the darkness, with the mission to look for survivors, killers and strange occurrences. Each event was to be reported immediately.
"Hey, sarge, you really believe all the shit the boss told us?"
"Yes, O'Sullivan, I do."
"I just mean… all the talk of monsters and beings and other worlds. Where the hell does that even come from?"
"I don´t know, but it seems like a big deal," the commander said, who was in the middle of the line. "With all the manpower the bureau has mustered, it must be a serious threat. And if the boss wanted to tell us a fairy tale, he could have come up with a better one."
"So it's believable ´cause it's unbelievable?"
"Yup"
"Shit, that makes sense somehow. Now I am scared."
"There's no reason for that, O'Sullivan," the sergeant admonished. "We're not on our own. The whole forest´s crawling with emergency personnel. All we gotta to do is signal and the cavalry comes charging around the corner."
"I hear something," the man on the left hissed and the entire squad stopped dead at the same time. Immediately, the soldiers went to their knees and each one of them automatically covered a different angle. With raised weapons they peered between the trees.
The flashlights of the agents fought bravely against the night, but they could barely penetrate the darkness around them. It covered the forest like a veil, making every bush look like a danger and every tree like a giant. Without a word, the five men waited.
"I don´t hear anything, are you sure?"
"Yes, damn it, there was something!"
Like a gun shot, the sound of a breaking twig cut through the silence, and instinctively the men turned in the direction the noise had come from.
"Swarm out," the sergeant ordered, "hold your fire until I give the order."
"Yes, sir"
"Yes"
"What if it´s another patrol?"
"Then we would see their lights," the officer replied, "go"
The team fanned out into a long line and the barrels of their weapons all pointed in the same direction now. The Tac Lights flashed into the night, and after a signal from the commander, the group started to move forward. The men on the flanks looked left and right, while the officer regularly glanced over his shoulder.
"Stop," the sergeant commanded, as a dark figure appeared between the trees. It had a slim, tall shape, seemed to limp and obviously carried something heavy on its shoulder. A moment later, it fell on all fours and held out a hand to the agents.
"Don´t shoot. We're from the rescue team. We´re wounded"

Claudette opened her eyes. Dazed by sleep she needed a few seconds before she remembered that she was in the Fairfield´s house. Yawning she propped herself up on her elbows turned her head to the side, where she spotted a television. Moments later, Claudette noticed that she was still on the couch where she and Dwight had watched a series last night. She must have nodded off.
Someone had put a blanket over her body so that she would not freeze overnight, however, the fabric could not do anything against the cramped neck, that had been caused by the unusual sleep position. Still dizzy, Claudette rolled back the blanket and swung her feet to the floor while rubbing her sore nape. Then she blinked the sleep out of her eyes and with a second yawn she stood up.
"Good morning", a high voice greeted behind her back and Claudette turned around. She spotted Elizabeth Fairfield carrying cutlery from the living room table into the kitchen. Apparently, the family had already had breakfast.
"Morning," Claudette murmured sleepily: "What… what time is it?"
Dwight's mother looked at her watch and said, "About a quarter past nine."
A quarter past nine was not that late. Dwight's father had probably already gone to work, but the day had just begun. Claudette was glad she had not been embarrassed as a late riser in front of the Fairfields.
"Thanks again for your hospitality."
"Your most welcome, my dear. Who would we be to turn you down after we offered three monsters a roof over their heads?"
Claudette chuckled briefly and started to help with the cutlery, but Elizabeth immediately took the dishes from her hand.
"Now don´t you dare touching these plates. You just got up. Here, I'll make you a coffee. Or tea? "
"No, please, that's not necessary."
"Coffee or tea?"
Claudette sighed and sat down.
"Coffee, but only if I'm allowed to clean up afterwards."
"Out of the question."
Elizabeth disappeared into the kitchen and a little later Claudette heard the whistling of a coffee machine before Dwight's mother returned, carrying a steaming cup toward her. She put the drink in front of the Canadian and then sat down opposite Claudette, who shyly took a sip.
"Now you have to tell me a little something, Claudette," Elizabeth began the conversation and studied the girl with attentive eyes. Claudette did not quite know what the woman wanted from her and asked carefully: "About what?"
"Well, about you," Dwight's mother replied, straightening her chair, "Since you've all entered here one after the other, you've always been so quiet. I've already talked to almost everyone else, Meg, Alberto, even Sally. But I´ve yet to hear anything from you."
"I'm just not the talkative kind, I think," Claudette replied with a shy smile. "And I'm not that interesting anyway."
"Oh, nonsense!", Elizabeth replied: "No one´s uninteresting. Your parents told me yesterday that you came here to study."
"Botany," Claudette nodded.
"There you have it. There is hardly a more exciting life than that of a young student."
"I don´t know," the Canadian mumbled, "I mean, I'm not exactly the exemplary student you might imagine. I live alone in an apartment in the city centre, which I just leave for groceries or university. I hardly have any acquaintances, let alone friends." Claudette stared uncertainly into the black darkness of her coffee. "I'm not the type who can handle other people terribly well."
"Well, at least Dwight seems to be taken with you in a good manner."
"Really?"
Claudette raised her head.
"Why, surely. Who do you think covered you so nicely last night?"
The Canadian answered nothing, so Elizabeth continued.
"Don´t go too strictly to court with yourself, Claudette. Trust me, you´ve no reason to feel insecure. Just be yourself."
"People have been telling me that for years," Claudette said bitterly.
"Then there´s gotta be something to it, right?" Elizabeth smiled: "Just think about how you cured... what was her name ... Lisa! How you patched up Lisa! That was a quick and flawless operation and don´t you think anybody could have done it."
"Meg could have done it."
"But she didn´t," Dwight's mother insisted. "You did."
"Thanks... I..."
Again Claudette was searching for words. It felt soothing to be complimented, but as always, she did not quite succeed in phrasing her feelings. However, she did not have to, because the next moment Dwight came tumbling down the stairs into the living room, shouting: "Claudette, Claudette, wake up!"
He paused in the doorway when he spotted the empty couch and only a moment later he discovered Claudette sitting with his mother at the table.
"Good morning," he said, "you're already awake. Good."
"Dwight, what's up?" Claudette asked and immediately got the answer.
"They got David. He´s out."

Dwight, Feng and Claudette hurried across the meadow toward the FBI's large tents. Dwight had notified Ace on his way to the western woods, but the Argentinean was downtown and would take a while to reach the site. Therefore, only the three of them approached the yellow barrier, where they were immediately stopped by an armed policeman.
"Please step back. There is nothing to see here. "
"I know," Feng answered: "we just want... "
"It's for your own safety."
Dwight stepped forward and put a note in the officer's face. The man read the manuscript for a moment and then frowned, before he concluded: "If the Sheriff allows it."
With these words, he lifted the yellow tape and stepped aside so that the three survivors could pass.
"Where is the wounded man?" Claudette asked in passing.
"You are well informed," the policeman said. "I think they took care of him in that tent over there. Haven´t seen him since."
The Canadian looked worried in the direction shown, while Dwight thanked the officer and then took the lead. Two heavily armed FBI agents with bullet-proof vests and assault rifles gave the three a suspicious look, but they were not stopped anymore. They hurried around the big tent. Before they could enter it however they found on a bench an all too familiar figure.
"Philip," Feng shouted, and the Wraith lifted its head as he heard his name. Hurriedly, the three ran towards him and Claudette realized that a bandage had been wrapped around his arm. Red stains indicated a serious injury.
"Where´s David?", Feng wanted to know immediately: "Is he okay?"
Philip just silently pointed at the tent behind his back before answering, "I don´t know. They´ve been treating him for some time now. But the doctors are expecting that he'll pull through."
Claudette glanced at the white tarpaulin that blocked the view before exchanging a worried look with Dwight. David had been rescued from the fog, that was a success, but he was still in grave danger. At least he was not dead yet.
"What about Jake?" Dwight asked next, but Philip just shrugged. "No idea. We didn´t find any traces of him, but it's quite possible that Evan has him."
Feng gasped in shock while Dwight kept asking, "So the others are still in the fog trying to free him?"
"Possibly. I don´t know"
"What do you mean, you don´t know?"
Feng sat down beside him on the bench.
"Philip, what happened?"
"During our travel into the fog, we were separated," the Wraith responded, looking directly into her eyes, "We came out in different places. Every single one of us I believe. After some time, I found Lisa and a little while later we stumbled over David, but Carter had already caught him. Luckily, we were able to outsmart him."
"And what about the others?" Claudette asked, involuntarily grabbing Dwight's forearm. Philip stared at the ground again. "We met Sally, but she was alone. A little while later, Carter caught up with us, beat me up and shocked David."
Philip raised his arm and pointed at his injury, before he continued.
"We don´t know what happened to Nea, Meg and Anna."
Dwight cursed silently as Claudette's grip on his forearm tightened.
"Damn, why did I just let her go," the Canadian said worriedly, turning to Dwight, "Meg doesn´t know what she's doing. She just lost her mother. She... She... "
"Shhhh," Dwight tried to comfort her and grabbed Claudette's upper arms. "Calm down. It won´t help them if we start losing our heads now."
"But I let her go."
"That was her decision," Dwight reminded her, looking Claudette directly in the eye, where he saw shallow tears.
"If she doesn´t come back..." the girl muttered, "I could never forgive myself."
Closing Claudette in a hug, Dwight answered, "I'm sure she's okay."

Meg slowly trudged along the path that Max was cutting through the undergrowth with his strong legs in front of her. She kept her head down, taking deep breaths, trying to ignore the pain that shot through her left shoulder at each step.
With the right hand, the athlete held the bandage in place, wondering if wounds in the fog could become inflamed as well and cause diseases like in the real world. It had never happened before, but the Entity, that had kept them alive was gone. Maybe she had to worry.
Meg glanced over her shoulder and realized that the cornfields had already disappeared among the trees of the forest. Darkness had closed around the weird duo, that limped awkwardly through the thicket.
Max was still ahead, stopping and waiting for the athlete every now and then while Meg struggled to keep her pace. But with every step she became weaker. Hopefully they would soon reach the asylum and hopefully they would meet Sally, Philip, Anna, Lisa or Nea there. Meg did not know which side Max would choose if they ran into the Trapper or the Doctor and she begged that they did not meet either of them. She would not have the strength to run away.
The athlete let out a suppressed scream as she stumbled over a root and crashed hard against a tree trunk. Max, who was already several meters ahead, turned around and looked at her briefly, before hurrying back toward her.
Meanwhile, Meg tried to pull herself up on one of the branches, which proved to be difficult with only one arm and exhausted legs. With a thump, Max dropped his hammer and chainsaw into the grass, freeing both his hands to help her up.
Muttering her name several times, the killer leaned down and grabbed Meg by her sweater. Clumsily, he pulled her up and put her back on her feet, sending a painful sting through her shoulder. She clenched her teeth, but she knew that Max only meant well for her.
"Thanks," she gasped, putting her right hand against the tree. "Thanks, Max, I… I think I need a break. Just a short while."
Breathing heavily, she now leaned her back against the trunk and slowly slipped back down into a sitting position. The Hillbilly kept his expectant gaze on her, but after a moment he seemed to understand. Grunting her name, he picked up his tools from the ground and then plummeted to the floor next to her. Sitting in the grass, he began to tinker on his chainsaw while Meg rested.
Exhausted she put her head back and closed her eyes. The stuffy air of the fog refused to properly fill her lungs, and she missed the clear, piercing breath of cold winter nights. Lost in thought, the athlete remembered all the jogging sessions that she had undertaken in the earliest morning hours.
More often than the darkness had still covered the city and not a single trace had crossed the fresh snow in the streets. She had been the first to set a foot on the white blanket, and with every step, cool air had flowed through her lungs.
A scratching sound pulled Meg back into the present and when she turned her head, she spotted Max cleaning his chainsaw of dirt and grime with a small stone. Carefully he drove along the grooves and corners and then checked with his thumb, to see if he had caught every last stain. Meg could not help smiling as she realized that in the end, everyone had some hobby. She liked running, Nea liked Graffiti and Max just liked chainsaws. And as it looked, he was also quite happy with it.
"Hey, Max?"
The Hillbilly stopped and looked up.
"Who taught you that?"
Max turned his head in her direction and looked at her questioningly. Obviously, he did not know what Meg was talking about, so she nodded at his chainsaw.
"I mean all this technology. You seem to have quite a talent for it, but someone must have shown it to you. Who was it? Was it Evan?"
Max shook his head vigorously.
"Philip?"
Again, he shook his head.
"But it wasn´t Sally, right?"
Max patted his chest and grunted his own name twice.
"You taught that yourself? All on your own?"
He nodded wildly, obviously pleased that Meg had understood.
"My respect," the athlete said, looking forward again. "When I think how long it took us to understand the generators… And that was just about putting in some parts somewhere."
Again she put her head back and closed her eyes.
"But then again, you weren´t being hunted, right?"
Max shook his head and turned back to his work. For a while, Meg just heard the scratching of the little pebble before she took a deep breath and decided, "I think we should go on, Max."
The Hillbilly reacted immediately and was already on his feet, when Meg prepared herself to get up. Hurriedly he came to help her and again he pulled her upwards, so that Meg's wound protested painfully, before he took the lead and ran into the forest.
The athlete set out to follow him, relieved to notice that the short break had worked wonders. Her legs felt powerful again and stood securely on the ground. Meg raised her head and looked after Max, whose ugly hump she could barely see disappearing between two bushes.
Running as fast as she could, she tried to keep up with Max, but it was in vain. After a minute he came back and waited a few meters ahead of her, until she had reached him, whereupon he immediately rushed onward into the thicket.
It seemed to Meg that hours had passed before the walls of the Crotus Prenn Asylum appeared among the trees. Max had already spotted them and hobbled hastily towards the athlete as he excitedly pointed towards the dilapidated building.
"I´ve seen it," Meg nodded and stopped. She wondered if she should enter the asylum or keep out and watch from a safe distance. Meg had already expected to be able to discover somebody at first glance, but now that she was standing in front of the lifeless walls, a cold shiver ran down her spine.
She had somehow hoped to find Sally here, though she knew the odds were relatively small. But where should she go? She had no trace, no clue to help her locate her comrades and she was completely alone. Well, not completely alone, after all, Max was at her side.
She looked at the Hillbilly, who returned her gaze expectantly. Obviously, he was waiting for a new order, a new task he could solve. Or maybe he just wanted some recognition for the successful completion of hid last quest.
"Well done," Meg whispered, "Thank you."
Max responded by nodding happily and stammering her name several times before glancing briefly at the asylum. Then he looked back at his companion, as if to ask, "And what now?"
Meg shook her head, glanced over her shoulder, and thought for a little while. Then she decided and said, "Now we have to get in there. If someone´s here, they´re probably hiding so they won't be found by the Trapper or the Doctor. I mean by Evan or Herman."
"Sally," Max grunted, pointing at the building.
"Sally," Meg confirmed and started walking toward the asylum: "If she's there, we have to find her, Max. But keep the noise down, alright?"
She heard Max softly mumble her name behind her and before he followed her. Meg was still not sure how well the Hillbilly spoke English. On the one hand, he barely uttered a word - so far, it had only been names - but on the other, he still seemed to understand just about every sentence she addressed to him.
The two approached the asylum and Meg glanced upwards. Dark and threatening, the walls loomed above her and seemed to be coming down on her as she set foot on the steps at the main entrance.
The air became stifling as soon as the athlete entered the interior of the building and her footsteps echoed off the blank walls. Left and forgotten, the corridors lay in front of her. Nothing moved, no air brushed over Megs skin and no vermin crawled along the walls. The fog was a truly dead place.
"Okay, Max," the athlete muttered, trying to calm herself. "Let's take a look."
She glanced down the corridors, turning her head from left to right. Then she decided on a direction and followed the corridor until she came to a turnoff. Both paths were blocked by unlocked doors, but Meg did not need to open them to know what she would find behind. The left led into a kind of treatment area, while to the right there as a series of empty cells. Both spooky places.
Meg turned left as she barely expected to find Sally or anyone else in the murky cell section. They would rather be hiding in the less depressing areas of the Asylum, or ... on the roof!
When the thought flashed through her mind, Meg wanted to hit her forehead with the palm of her hand. The roof would provide excellent an excellent overview while being a good hiding place. It was perfect.
Determined, she pushed against the door on her left, her hand already on the door handle, and stepped into the rooms beyond. Here and there a lightbulb flickered on the ceiling, but in most rooms the darkness had settled like mould.
Max followed Meg, who now ran energetically through the building and was looking for a staircase. She already knew the building from the trials and was pretty sure, that there was a ladder somewhere, which would lead her up onto the roof.
Hurriedly she rounded a corner, only to be grabbed by Max at the shoulder in the same moment. With an iron grip, he had reached for her and held her back while adrenaline rushed through her veins. Had he changed his mind about her friendship? Damn, why were his fingers so tight?
"Meg," the Hillbilly growled and pulled her back so that she almost fell off her feet. The athlete turned around and looked at the killer, who threateningly towered over her.
"Max?" She asked nervously and in a trembling voice, "What's going on?"
To answer the Hillbilly gestured briefly with his arm and then pointed past Meg on the floor in front of her. As the athlete followed his gaze, she spotted a black, rusty beartrap concealed in a dark tuft of grass, where it was well camouflaged. If Max had not stopped her, she would probably have stepped right into it.
"Shit"
Meg cursed and sighed in relief. For a moment the Hillbilly´s unexpected action had filled her with panic and panting, she tried to calm her heartbeat. Meanwhile, Max repeated her name twice and Meg turned back to him.
"Damn, Max, I think... I think you just saved me a lot of pain."
Max nodded happily and pointed at the trap again, before placing a hand over his face like a mask.
"You're right," Meg replied, "If his traps are here, maybe he's close too. Fuck!"
The athlete looked around but could not find any more traps or clues that hinted towards the presence of the Trapper. Worried, she shook her head.
"That's not a good sign," Meg murmured: "But what's ever been good in this damned fog? Come on, Max, we gotta look for the roof. Maybe we'll see more from there."
Carefully Meg walked around the trap and then continued on her way, her eyes now always focused on the ground in front of her. If she stepped into one of those gruesome gadgets, it would most likely mean her end. She had already lost enough blood and Meg was not sure if her worn body could bear another serious injury without immediate treatment. Slowly but surely it dawned on her that Max had probably just saved her life.
Turning around a corner, she spotted the steps of a staircase at the end of the corridor, and with an expression of grim triumph she set off. Max was right behind her and kept looking over his shoulder. Thus, it was almost impossible for a potential attacker to sneak up on them.
Even though it seemed strange to her, Meg felt safer with each passing minute in the presence of the Hillbilly. Like an attentive watchdog, he followed her and saw to it, that she was not harmed.
Just as she set foot on the lowest step, Meg was struck with shame about the thought that had just passed through her mind. Although Max could barely articulate himself and might not really look like a human being anymore, it still seemed ungrateful to compare him to an animal.
Shaking her head, Meg brushed her conscience aside and focused on the present. There were other problems to solve than the moral question of whether or not it was unfair to equate Max with a watchdog.
The athlete hurried up the steep steps and found herself a little later in front of a dark door. A light push showed her that it was not locked, but it took a bit of force to wrest a twist from the rusted hinges. Squeaking like a dying rat, the door swung open to reveal the roof of the Crotus Prenn Asylum.
In the middle of the area was a dome that Meg knew was above the central treatment room, but otherwise the area was completely empty. Only a rickety metal fence ran along the edge of the roof.
Slowly, Meg stepped out onto the flat plane and turned her head in all directions. After a few metres the fog already blocked her sight and she could not even see the farm where she and Max had started their journey.
"Good evening"
Meg´s breath stuttered for a second and Max, who had just stepped out of the stairwell behind her, shout around in the direction of the unexpected voice. A hunchbacked figure sat cross-legged on the little house just above the stairwell, looking at the newcomers with a big grin
"Damn, Lisa," the athlete cursed: "I just had a heart attack."
"Then Maxie will have to keep old Lisa company", the Hag cackled and then giggled happily about her own joke. Meanwhile Meg shook her head with a still throbbing heart, but Max seemed delighted to meet their new companion.
"Lisa," he grunted loudly and approached the small hut. The Hag reached down with one of her paws and caressed the Hillbilly´s hairy head benevolently, which he seemed to enjoy to the fullest.
"Lisa," Meg mingled after a moment, "Please tell me you´re not alone."
"Yes, Lisa is all alone, all alone", the Hag replied: "But no, not anymore, no, no. Now you two are here."
"Does that mean you too landed in the fog on your own?"
Lisa nodded.
"Fuck" Meg swore, clenching her teeth as a painful throb passed through her wound. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn´t you be looking for Jake, David or the others?"
"Oh, but Lisa had already found them."
"Really?" Meg listened up. "Where?"
"Sally said to Lisa, wait at the Crotus Prenn Asylum," the Hag replied, "Yes, yes, she did, right before Lisa sent back David and Philip."
"You found David?"
The Hag nodded again.
"Yup"
"Oh Lisa, that´s a big load of my mind," Meg sighed and tilted her head back. For the first time since her arrival in the fog, she felt something like true hope. Hope, that her mission was not doomed to failure and she would eventually leave alive. But it was not quite that far yet.
"Why did you send Philip out?" Meg asked, "He wasn´t hurt, was he?"
"Yes," Lisa cackled: "Herman, that snotty-nosed brat, gave him one with his iron stick. But he'll survive."
"So the Doctor knows we're here?"
"Mhm, he knows"
"Damn, that's bad news," Meg murmured: "Lisa, do you have any idea where Sally has gone? Or where the others are? Nea, Anna or Jake? "
"Nothing", the Hag answered: "Lisa knows nothing. But Sally said she would come back here, yes, yes."
The bang of a pistol echoed through the fog and as if on command, all three turned their heads in the direction of the noise. Lisa got up and peered into the darkness, while Max stared helplessly at Meg, but the survivor had only one thought in mind.
Nea!

Attentively the Swede let her eyes wander over the densely covered forest ground, but Nea could not spot anything. She had lost the track. Behind her, Anna turned her head in all directions and shot suspicious glances into the darkness, always on guard against possible ambushes.
The moon stood high in the sky, pouring its pale light like a shroud over the landscape. Nea sighed and turned to the Huntress.
"That's it," she said: "The track is losing itself here, I´ve no idea which way he went."
Anna glanced at the Swede for a moment before looking over her shoulder and then taking a step towards her.
"Nearby," the hiller said, "believe House."
She raised her big axe and pointed over Nea's shoulder right into the forest. The Swede glanced in the direction and tried to spot something, but her eyes were hardly able to penetrate the darkness between the trees. Suspiciously she turned back to Anna.
"A house?"
The Huntress nodded.
"Whose house?"
"Anna House" came the answer and the killer tapped her free hand against her chest: "Mother lived. Now it standing here. Anna alone."
"Your house?" Nea asked, glancing in the direction again: "Damn Anna, I didn´t know that the Entity brought your house into fog. But it makes sense, Sally's lunatic asylum is here too. And you're sure it's in that direction?"
The Huntress shook her head before saying, "Just believe. But Evan maybe hiding."
"You're right," Nea answered, "Maybe the bastard took up residence there."
She looked briefly back in the direction shown before addressing Anna.
"All right, Anna, we're doing the following. We try to find your house and see if Evan´s there. He mustn´t see us, so only attack if we´re spotted, okay?"
Meanwhile, Anna had squatted to be at eye level with the Swede and now nodded vigorously. She had listened attentively and had understood.
"If he isn´t there, we look around and try to find clues. Just like in the big hall, remember? When he's there, we'll wait until he fucks off, alright?"
Anna nodded again, and a grin crossed her lips. Despite the admittedly desperate circumstances, Nea could not help but smile back. Already a while ago, the Swede had noticed that she got along really well with Anna and together they formed an excellent team.
"Well, then," Nea decided, "let's go."
Anna nodded with a determined growl and got up, while Nea took the lead. The killer followed her through the undergrowth. Every now and then the cawing of a raven echoed through the darkness, but they were only isolated calls, and they hardly announced an approaching danger. Nevertheless, both Anna and Nea kept throwing attentive glances in all directions.
Above all, Nea paid special attention to the ground at her feet, as she had learned during many past trials that the Trapper used to lay his irons in the most inconspicuous places. Even though he had focused on generators and exits at the beginning, Evan MacMillan had soon turned to more perfidious strategies. Dark spots, possible hiding places, the paths between generators, nothing had been safe from him and Nea could still vividly remember the pain his beartraps were able to cause.
With a growl Anna drew the Swede's attention at her and then pointed right into the forest. There, among the trees and bushes, Nea spotted the wooden wall of a building and once again she thanked heaven for Anna´s sharpened senses. On her own she would have probably walked right past the house.
"House there," Anna whispered and the two took cover behind some trees. The Huntress looked questioningly at Nea, who nodded and answered: "I see it. Let's get closer. But quietly."
Carefully avoiding any source of noise, the survivor and the killer began stalking toward the building. Nea admired how silently and skilfully Anna maneuvered through the forest, producing absolutely no sound and almost resembling a hunting lioness in her movements. The Swede felt almost stupid beside her as she stumbled comparatively awkward through the undergrowth and focused her attention more on the ground than on her target. Anna, however, never let her prey out of sight.
After a short while the two had already reached the wall of the house, that Nea had meanwhile recognized from the trials. She had used the cabin as a hiding spot or was looking for tools or medicine while her friends had been sacrificed outside. Nea had never realized that this was Anna's dwelling, but now that she thought about it, the place suited her quite well.
At first glance, it was rough and ugly, but the closer one looked, the more one could see the details, the attention and dedication that Anna put into her home, even though she was far from having the necessary skills or knowledge for it.
Carefully Nea raised her head and peered through a window. She could barely see anything, but the house seemed deserted. Nothing stirred and Nea was sure that she would have noticed a tall brute like the Trapper.
"I don´t think there's anyone in there," Nea mumbled and after a moment's thought, she climbed through the window. Anna cocked her head in surprise, but then she followed the survivor. After all, Nea knew what to do.
The interior of the refuge was covered by darkness and the air smelled of old wood. Nea wrinkled her nose and looked around, though her eyes had not yet adjusted to the dim light. Luckily, she was no stranger to this place, so she did not have to orientate herself and could focus on looking for clues, tracks, or anything else that would tell her if anyone had been here. It was quite possible that the Trapper had dropped by, but maybe David or Jake had sought shelter here as well.
Anna had meanwhile climbed into the room behind her and was now walking around the Swede. She let her gaze glide over the walls, furnishings, and objects, spinning slowly around her own axis. In the meantime, Nea moved toward the central table and silently wished for her eyes to be as suited for the dark as Anna´s.
Everything she saw was nothing more than a blurred canvas of black shades, but then she spotted an unusual bulge on the floor. No, that was no bulge. There was someone lying beside the table. Nea cautiously walked around the piece of furniture and knelt beside the body, but she had already realized with horror who was lying in front of her.
"Fuck, Sally," she called, and adrenaline rushed through her body. The Nurse lay completely lifeless on the ground, head uncovered and face down.
"Sally? Hey! Damn, Anna, come here."
The Huntress immediately appeared behind Nea, and when her eyes fell on the nurse's motionless body, she threw her axe aside and knelt down too.
"Sally?" Anna whispered visibly frightened and nudged her old friend. Nea tried to control her shock and with trembling hands she checked if the Nurse was still among the living, putting a hand to her neck and searching for a pulse. The killer's skin was freezing cold and Nea felt a liquid, so she hastily withdrew her fingers. She didn´t even have to look to know it was blood.
"No, no, no," Nea muttered in despair, "No, Sally, no. Anna, help me turn her over."
Together, they placed the nurse in a supine position, with Anna pulling the torso to the right and Nea stabilizing her head. More blood wetted her hands, and as she brushed aside Sally's hair, she discovered several blazing wounds on her forehead. Something had hit her face repeatedly, and no matter how much Nea hated the thought, those injuries were clearly of the fatal kind.
"No," Nea cursed and stood up in disbelief, "No, Sally, shit, shit, shit."
Fear squeezed her heart as she realized that they had just lost a member of their team. Sally was dead, and nothing could change it. Nea turned away.
Behind her she could hear Anna growl, unable to deal with the situation. Sally had always been so strong, she had always known what to do and had helped Anna since they had first met in the fog. Sally had been her beacon, her guide, who she could follow. Now she was gone, and Anna did not know how to continue.
Meanwhile the Swede stumbled a few steps through the room. Thoughts darted through her mind, and every second her fear increased, already manifesting in form of a dull stomach-ache.
Sally was dead.
Their leader was dead.
Someone must have killed her.
What now?
Was this someone still around?
It had to be the Trapper.
Did he know that they were here?
Nea wanted to scream loudly, but the broad hand that had suddenly dropped over her mouth closed so tightly she could not give out the slightest squeak. A strong arm wrapped around her upper body and jerked her back so that she lost her balance.
Staggering, the Swede was pulled out of the cabin and onto the meadow in front of the main entrance in seconds, as a new wave of adrenaline shot through her body, blurring her thoughts and exploding her fear into sheer panic. On and on she was pulled and desperately Nea tried to break free. She wanted to call for Anna, but she was silenced.
A strong blow to the back of her head robbed her of her senses for a moment and she could only feel someone grabbing her leg and pulling it to the right. Just as she regained full consciousness again, Nea heard a mechanical snap and a burning pain shot through her lower leg as her bones were caught between the cruel teeth of a bear trap.
The hand over her mouth had disappeared and Nea gave a sharp, drawn-out cry of pain. Through a curtain of tears, she recognized the grinning mask of the Trapper, who was triumphantly standing in front of her.
"Now who do we have here?" the killer asked mockingly: "A little bird?"
Nea responded with lightning speed and immediately pulled the pistol from her gun belt. The pain in her leg nearly blinded her and numbed her senses, but she felt the metal handle of the handgun and the Trapper was less than a meter away from her. There was no way she could miss him.
With clenched teeth, the Swede curled her index finger, but just as she pulled the trigger, another blow hit her hand and the weapon flew into the grass. A shot broke loose, but flashed somewhere into the forest, useless and ineffective.
"It's not gonna be that easy, birdie," the Trapper laughed, jamming his foot against her chest so that Nea was thrown backwards on the floor. The trapped leg, however, was unable to move and twisted into an unnatural position, which elicited another scream from the Swede.
"Nea?" a worried voice asked, and the Trapper turned around.
"And now we´ve also got the attention of the bunny," Evan MacMillan said: "The bunny, which unfortunately failed to keep an eye on his little bird."
Anna had stopped in the doorway to her house and watched the scene motionless. Her axe was lying in her hand again and as the Trapper continued, she bared her teeth and flashed growling into a defensive position.
"Oh, Anna," the Trapper shouted, "If only you had been a little more cautious, I probably wouldn´t have been able to pull her off you so easily. But you messed up, as we´re all used to. You filthy freak!"
Anna still did not move from her spot or left the Trapper out of sight for a second. Meanwhile, Nea had reared up, half fainting, trying to free her leg from the iron jaws. She had no chance. Sobbing and with tears in her eyes, she glanced at Anna.
"I could´ve already guessed that Sally got you involved," the Trapper shouted. "You're stupid enough, aren´t you? I´ll warn you, come one step closer and I'll have to show you again who's wearing the breeches around here."
The Trapper laughed cruelly.
"And who´s not. You remember, Anna?"
The Huntress had begun to tremble all over her body and could barely hold her axe still. She was obviously caught in panic and the Trapper seemed to enjoy it to the fullest. What had that sick bastard done to her? Anna let out a menacing growl, but she did not attack.
"That's what wenches such as you need," the masked killer mocked, "A strong man to show them who´s calling the shots. I thought you got that at our last rendezvous, but quite obviously I wasn´t thorough enough. No matter, freak, we´ve got time. Your little bird´s going nowhere."
He rammed the pommel of his rusty weapon against Nea´s head, which blurred her vision again, but at the same time Anna tore one of her throwing axes from her belt and threw it with all her strength toward the Trapper.
The whole action went so fast that he barely had time to react and only at the last moment was he able to fend off the projectile with his weapon. Even before he had regained his balance, Anna had already charged at him with a furious cry and was now raising her axe to a head-splitting blow.

Dwight opened the door and stepped aside to make room for Feng and Claudette. Silently, the three entered the house and got rid of their coats at the entrance, before they went into the living room.
It had begun to rain during their way from the western woods back into the city. The sky had been darkened by grey clouds, that had approached Waltonfield from the east and then emptied themselves over the town. At first it had only been a light drizzle, but meanwhile the weather had grown into a full-blown storm.
Thick drops pattered against the windows and Claudette was glad to finally be back in the warm. At the same time, she could not rip her thoughts from her friends, who were still trapped in the fog and might be hunted or tortured right now. Maybe even...
She shook her head and refused to think about it. They're fine, Dwight had said, and Claudette was eager to believe him.
"bastard weather," Feng mumbled and sat down at the big table while Claudette turned on the lights. Dwight went to the kitchen to make tea. The hot beverage was drunk at the Fairfield´s on all occasions and especially during a gale like this, Claudette gladly fell into tradition.
"You think David's okay?" Feng asked, as the Canadian sat down next to her.
"Of course," Claudette answered. "The doctor said he´s stable and no longer in danger. He´ll be fine, you´ll see."
Feng nodded.
"If only they had let us through to him. So that we could see him, you know?"
"He needs peace and quiet," Claudette murmured: "They´re taking him to the hospital now, where they'll patch him up again."
"What do you think his injuries look like?", the Asian wanted to know. Claudette waited for a moment before she answered, "No idea, but I hope he does get away without to many scars."
Philip had told them that Carter had hit David with a full salvo from his electric fist and the FBI doctor had said something about severe burns. Permanent damage to the brain and heart could not be ruled out, but at least he would survive.
For a while the two sat silently at the table listening to the rain, before Dwight came out of the kitchen with three steaming cups. Trying not to spill a drop, he put the tea on the table. Claudette pulled one of the cups toward her and laid her fingers around the warm pottery, but Feng just stared at the drinks.
Finally, she mumbled, "I'm tired, I'm lying down," and disappeared from the living room. Dwight and Claudette watched her wordlessly. They both knew that the little girl was horribly worried about Meg and Nea, but right now they could not do anything but wait. Wait and drink tea.
Dwight raised his cup to his mouth and took a sip, careful not to scald his lips. Meanwhile Claudette led her gaze out the window, following the race of the raindrops on the window pane and losing herself in thought. Again, she caught herself imagining Meg in the Hillbilly´s claws, his chainsaw dripping with her blood.
Claudette could not remember exactly, but the athlete had saved her on their last trial in the fog. They had been in the basement, she still knew that. The Hillbilly had taken her there after surprising her at a generator in an open field.
Repairing had never been one of her strengths, but she had always tried her best. Just like Meg, who had bravely slipped past the killer and come down into the basement to spare her the torture of being sacrificed
She had not succeeded and at the thought of the Entity´s cold claws, Claudette's heart skipped a beat. Tears formed in her eyes and before she could shut out the memory, the drops were already rolling down her cheek.
"You okay?" Dwight asked uncertainly, searching for her look. Hastily Claudette wiped away the tears and answered: "Yes, yes, I just ... just thought of the last trial, when Meg tried to save me off the hook."
Dwight did not answer. He knew what trial she was talking about, after all he had been there himself. He could remember exactly how he had run out of the exit gate with Jake, while the Hillbilly charged against the dark barricade at the exits. The escape had been forced, he had always told himself, but as usual self-doubt was eating away at him. He might have been able to hide in the arena and help the girls. He might have been able to do something.
"She came into the basement," Claudette sobbed and tears dwelled up again: "She tried to save me and when ... when he found us, she was still trying to defend me. I remember it all."
She looked Dwight in the eye.
"I ... If anything would happen to her now, I could never forgive myself, Dwight," Claudette whispered. "I let her go. I let her down, when I should have forced her to stay."
"But no," Dwight tried to comfort the Canadian, "You didn´t let her down, no. You mustn´t even think that. Never."
Claudette was not convinced, but Dwight was far from giving up.
"Do you remember that one trial in the asylum, when we were already at the exit and Meg didn´t show up? Me and Ace, we wanted to leave, but you just grabbed my medikit and ran back into the fog. Letting someone down looks different, at least if you ask me."
Claudette indeed remembered it vividly and replied: "Yeah and because of me you took a turn on the hook."
"I know," Dwight replied, "but I´m used to getting my ass kicked. And Ace saved me, even if he cashed for it, so it wasn´t that bad."
"Wasn´t that bad?"
"We got Meg out and survived all four," Dwight said. "That's all that matters. Later at the campfire you had to look after three patients at the same time, remember."
Claudette nodded weakly. She remembered.
"Meg's leg was a horror," she mumbled, "The beartrap had almost cut through the ankle. Had we not been in the fog, I wouldn´t have been able to do anything."
"Even in the fog, I could not have done what you did," Dwight replied, "Of course I´d never wish something like this for you, but the fact that the Entity pulled you in the fog with us has saved our asses on quite some occasions."
Delighted, Dwight noticed that with his compliment he had wrested a short smile off of Claudette and immediately continued.
"Honestly. When it comes to first aid, none of us are able to hold a candle to you."
"Maybe I should have gone with them," Claudette murmured suddenly and Dwight displeased her sudden train of thought. "What if they´re wounded?"
"Then Sally´s gonna take care of it," Dwight said hastily, "Let´s stop talking about the fog. At the moment we can´t do anything anyway and we both deserve a break from it, don´t you think?"
Claudette did not answer and instead took a sip of tea, obviously in doubt. Dwight looked around the room and his eyes fell on his mother's piano, which was standing against a wall.
"Do you know I can play the piano?"
"Piano?", Claudette asked: "No, I ... really?"
"My mother is pretty good at it," Dwight replied, "She taught me a little some time ago, but unfortunately, I never became the great musician she'd always wanted."
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, don´t be," Dwight said: "And I´m not all that bad. Come on, I'll show you."
Gently he pulled Claudette at her feet and steered the Canadian through the living room toward the instrument. She followed him silently and Dwight hoped he would be able to lift her spirits, even if just a little
"Here, sit down," he said, pulling out the wide piano chair. The seat was so big that there was easily enough room for both of them. Slowly, Dwight pulled the lid up, exposing the white and black keys.
"God, I haven´t played for ages," he mumbled, "I hope my audience forgives me a few mistakes."
"The audience is forgiving," Claudette replied, watching patiently as Dwight placed his fingers on the keys. After a moment he tried to play the first note, which he immediately missed.
"Sorry, wrong button"
Dwight started again, this time with the right tone, and then followed a lively, not too difficult melody that he had learned years ago. Staying in tact has never been his strength, but he tried his best and hit most of the scores relatively well.
He also still had problems with the dynamics, some sounds were too loud, others too quiet. His mother had always told him that he had to start right there, if he ever wanted to become a better pianist. He had never really wanted it.
After Claudette had listened attentively to his piece, Dwight finished the song with a loud accent and then turned to the Canadian girl.
"Not bad," Claudette commented and gave him a generous applause. A smile crossed her lips and the whiteness of her teeth contrasted sharply with the darkness of her skin.
"I hope you enjoyed it," Dwight said.
"I certainly did."
"Thanks, I… I appreciate it. As I said, I haven´t been sitting in this chair for years and my limited abilities haven´t exactly grown during that time."
"But that was nice."
"My mother disagrees."
"But you didn´t play it for her, did you? So, her opinion doesn´t matter here. Only mine."
"Thanks," Dwight said with a grin, "Wanna give it a try?"
The Canadian nodded and Dwight gently reached for her hands.
"Put your fingers on the keys like that ... Yeah, right there and there."
"Like this?", Claudette asked and shot Dwight an uncertain look.
"Yes", he confirmed: "Don´t press to hard if you wanna play a note. Always stay relaxed and let the movements flow."
"Flow?" Claudette laughed awkwardly.
"That´s at least what my mother used to tell me, "Dwight smirked, "guess it never really worked for me. Do you wanna know any songs? Or just play like that?"
"Nah, I´m just gonna play like that."
"As you wish"
Claudette now pressed her index finger down and a long tone escaped wooden instrument. It was not until she raised her finger again that the sound came to an abrupt end and an amused smile flew over her lips.
Then she turned her head forward again and lowered her eyes to the keys. Again, she played a note, but after a short moment she was already following it with a second, and then a third and a fourth. The sounds merged into a beautiful melody and Claudette's fingers were flying over the keyboard like they were little birds. Every note was perfectly set, no sound too loud or too quiet. Everything was right. A true masterpiece.
When Claudette had finished, she remained completely silent and gave Dwight a shy, questioning look.
"You're a sneaky little goblin, you know that?"
"Did you like it?"
"Like it?" Dwight laughed. "Not even my mother could have got it that way. Alright, maybe, but what you just delivered... that was masterful. What piece was that?"
"Debussy, Clair de Lune"
"Debussy," Dwight muttered, "You could at least have told, that you know how to play, before I made a complete fool of myself."
"Sorry," the Canadian apologized, and a very un-claudette-like giggle escaped her lips. Dwight raised his eyebrows, but he was glad he'd managed to distract her a little.
"Oh, come, don´t be mad," Claudette said, pulling on his arm: "There had to be something else you can and I can´t do."
"I'm not a man of many talents," Dwight replied, thinking hard, "I can´t think of anyth... Can you dance?"
"Dance? I think I've only been to a disco twice in my entire life and I´ve never set foot on a dance floor." Claudette looked at her legs. "I don´t feel as confident in my body as Meg, you know."
"I´m not talking about disco-hopping," Dwight replied, "I'm talking about waltz. I went to a course for half a year."
"To be honest, I didn´t really take you for the dancing type," Claudette replied.
"The dancing type?", Dwight laughed: "I'm far from that. But it can still be fun. Come on, get up."
"I don´t know," Claudette mumbled, but she did not defend herself when Dwight pulled her into the middle of the room. "Well, the basic step looks like this."
"Oh God, I can´t do that," Claudette whispered, but Dwight interrupted her. "Of course you can, it´s really not that difficult. So... "
He reached for Claudette and put his right hand on her back. With his left he took her right and lifted it up, applying minimal pressure just as he had learned. Dwight smelt a scent that he knew to distinguish from thousands of others and that he knew belonged only to her.
"In the basic step, the lady – that´s you – first puts her left foot diagonally backwards."
Claudette tried to follow the instructions, but she felt rather awkward. Uncertain, she pulled back her left leg.
"Like this?"
"Exactly," Dwight replied, "At the same time, the Gentleman is moving forward. After that both follow with the other leg and continue with a step on the spot."
"Like that? No wait…"
"You almost have it."
"Now. Ehm…
"Yes, that's about right."
"And then?"
"Then you do it the other way around," Dwight explained, taking the steps while Claudette tried to follow. Clumsily she stumbled around and suddenly felt Dwight's toes under her foot.
"Shit, sorry"
"No problem," Dwight replied, "That happens in the beginning. Again"
Again, Claudette tried to follow him, but she was barely able to keep up even with the admittedly slow pace.
"Damn, that's hard," she gasped, and Dwight said, "But you almost got it. One more thing: Usually the gentleman leads, and the lady follows, not the other way around. "
"But I am following."
"No, you´re not. Try to lean back a little. That way I can control your weight and can guide you much better. Don´t worry, I won´t let you fall down."
Claudette nodded and leaned back slowly. Just as her sense of balance was about to protest, she felt Dwight's hand on her back and with renewed confidence she gave up control.
"Okay, this way it´s easier."
Dwight counted in and again the two turned a bit. Claudette still clambered around and kept her eyes on her legs. It all happened so fast, but she managed to fulfill the first three steps pretty well. The fourth, however, went to the wrong place and the dance collapsed.
"Damn," Claudette cursed, "I can´t do that."
"On the contrary," Dwight encouraged and broke away from her: "You already git it. Only thing that´s missing now is the music."
He walked over to a radio and put in a CD while Claudette stood in the middle of the room, nervously trying to internalize the sequence of steps. Muttering, she shook her head as an orchestra played the first notes of a slow waltz. "I can´t do this."
Dwight was already back and again they took position. At the last moment, Claudette remembered to lean back and let herself fall into Dwight's arm. Then he started with the first step and half surprised, she followed him.
The fourth step was off again, but Dwight just kept pulling her onwards as they slowly turned on their own axis. Claudette kept her gaze down at her feet and after the third round she performed the fourth without any mistake. And then the fifth and the sixth. At the seventh, she dared to turn her eyes up and looked straight at Dwight, who smiled back at her.
Claudette grinned nervously, but she felt more and more how her body moved to the beat of the music. It was like playing the piano, she noticed. One had to give up any tension and be guided by the sounds.
After the tenth turn Claudette closed her eyes and completely gave in to the music. Dwight´s right hand was firmly on her back and she felt him guiding her with his left. Her breath was racing faster and faster as they danced longer and longer. What a pleasure!
It was not until the musicians had finished their art that the two dancers paused. Exhausted and animated by emotion, Claudette opened her eyes. Dwight seemed to feel similar, because he had a wide grin on his face as well. Neither of them said a word. They just looked at each other. Agitated. Euphoric. He still held her tight and secure, as if he would never let her go again. Forever.
"Bravo", a chirpy little voice broke the silence and Claudette and Dwight suddenly diverged. Her eyes darted to the front door that led out into the hall, where they spotted Feng, who was happily clapping her hands. Then she suddenly slapped a hand over her mouth.
"Oh no, did I interrupt something? Oh no, guys, I'm sorry. Sorry."
"I thought you were going to lie down," Dwight said nervously as Claudette glanced to the floor, embarrassed but amused.
"I wanted too," Feng hurried to answer: "But I couldn´t sleep. And then I heard music. Sorry, guys, I'm sorry. I really didn´t want to disturb you."
"It´s alright," Dwight waved off, then glanced at Claudette. Afterwards, he looked at the three cold teacups on the table. "Guess we forgot our tea."
"We have," Claudette nodded and as Dwight looked back at her, he noticed that she still had a big smile on her face.

With a crash, Anna's axe hit the machete of the Trapper, who had torn it up just in time. The Huntress gave him no breathing room and immediately followed up, but this time her opponent was prepared. As the weapons met again, the Trapper angled his blade at the last moment, deflecting the brutal energy of Anna's slash to the side.
Surprised, Anna stumbled forward and immediately the Trapper rammed his knee into her stomach. But she did not let up and caught herself faster than Nea had expected. Growling furiously, Anna tore her axe around and Evan managed to save himself from her reach with a quick jump to the side so that the two of them found themselves a few meters apart again.
Anna immediately moved to the left, pushing herself between Nea and the Trapper. It was clear that if he wanted the Swede, Evan had to kill her first and Anna was determined to fight like a wild animal. Nea was her friend.
Breathing heavily, the Trapper watched her for a moment before attacking with a wild roar. Anna threw herself against him with all her strength and the two opponents met in a wild sequence of blows, kicks and punches.
First, the Trapper dodged Anna´s axe, the hit her with a backhand stroke that would have knocked any normal human off the ground and proceeded to attack with his machete, but the attempt was blocked by Anna grabbing his arm and pushing him away.
Snarling, the Trapper shot his fist toward her chin, but Anna hurriedly withdrew her head, bringing her axe forward instead and letting it flash towards the Trapper. Evan dodged backwards, but immediately retaliated and aimed his machete at Anna's head. The blow missed her only by a few inches.
Struck with panic Nea observed the fight of the two killers. Desperately she forced her fingers between the jaws of the bear trap, mustered all her strength and tried to pull them apart. The skin on her palms was pierced and torn open by razor sharp metal fangs, but the jaws did not move an inch. She had to be released. She had to stand by Anna's side.
The Huntress had meanwhile ducked under another blow but was now too close to use her long axe. Still in the process of diving, she grabbed one of her throwing axes with her free hand and used it as a melee weapon.
In ambush, she aimed at the Trapper's face, who quickly leaned back so that the edge of the weapon scraped over his mask, leaving a long notch. But now Anna was defenceless. With all his might, the Trapper rammed his shoulder against the Huntress and pushed her several feet away from him.
Again Nea tried to free her leg and for a short moment the trap opened a few millimetres. But Nea's powers faded and a second later the irons snapped back. Pain that shot through her leg, darkened her vision and almost made her faint. In agony she cried out.
Anna had meanwhile been forced to her knees, but the Huntress fended off two attacks before dodging a kick and bouncing back to her feet. The Trapper immediately caught up and drove her back several steps. Anna recognized his strategy and desperately tried to stay between him and Nea. Bravely she resisted as Evan took a step forward, but it did not help. A hit of his fist drove her another metre backwards.
Paralyzed in fear Nea looked for anything she could use to loosen the trap. A stick maybe, or a stone to damage the mechanism. She could not spot anything. Panicking the Swede turned her gaze briefly back to Anna and then tried again to free herself from the trap. Her wounded hands burned like fire, but the pain in her leg overshadowed everything else.
In the meantime Evan had almost gotten Anna out of the way and kept pushing forward. A brutal blow opened Anna's cover for a moment, followed by a kick against the leg. Anna cried out and dropped to her knees. Tightening the grip around her axe, she struck at the Trapper, missed and took another kick, this time right to the face.
Groaning, she was thrown backwards while her axe dropped to the ground, far out of reach. Desperately, Anna pushed herself up, tore the last throwing axe from her belt and spun around as the Trapper stood over her. In a last attempt, she reared up and sent the weapon toward its destination.
Laughing cruelly, the Trapper dodged the missile with ease, before grabbing her by the throat and lifting her up. Anna gasped and wrapped her hands around the Trapper´s muscular arm.
In vain.
With a furious roar, he pushed her back until she crashed against the wall of her own cabin. Several times Evan tore the Huntress forward and rammed her back against the massive wooden logs, but she did not give up. Kicking and beating, she resisted until Evan's fist crashed into her stomach with all his strength.
Anna gasped for breath, her mouth wide open, but the iron grip on her throat laced her airway. Two more times, Evan brutally punched her in the stomach, followed up with his knee and finally flung the Huntress to the ground. He had thrown his machete aside a long time ago. Apparently, he wanted to kill Anna with his bare hands.
The Huntress pushed her hands against the ground and tried to get up, but the next moment she was already hit in the side by the Trapper's foot, carrying her on her back. Evan immediately put a knee on her chest and squeezed her to the ground using his full body weight. Anna struggled, reaching for his leg. She tried to catch him and free herself, but her desperate attempts were no longer a threat. Blood ran out from under her mask and the Trapper laughed scornfully.
"Oh Anna, what have you done?" he murmured: "I thought you had learned last time, but you´re obviously not even able to do that."
The Trapper's fist hit her face with full force.
"The Entity is gone, whore. You're mine now and believe me, this mask´s the last thing you'll see."
His fist shot down again.
"I'll beat your worthless life outta you, you hear me? Fuck steel, I'll do it with my bare hands."
For the third time, his fist crashed into Anna's face.
"But why shouldn´t we have some fun before that?"
Suddenly, the Trapper's hands were no longer busy maltreating Anna's face but were brutally tearing at her bloodstained shirt. The Huntress struggled, scratched, kicked, and struck at her tormentor, but her growling had fallen silent and reduced to a panicked whimper. In cold fear, she tried to keep the Trapper's hands away from her body. She had no chance.
Nea tore at the trap with all her power and clenched her teeth as the spikes dug deep into her hands. Gasping, she refused to idly watch the events. She could not. She had to do something.
But the cursed jaws were not moving.