Diclaimer: All rights belong to Anthony Horowitz and Puffin Books. No profit is being made.
Warnings: Nothing, really. The odd curse? That's about it so far. I have no idea where the hell this is going.
Rating: K+
Pairing: None..?
A/N: I really don't know what to think about this. I wrote it aaaaaages ago (about three and a half years) as a sort of my version of Alex Rider. But noone was really interested, and since there's an Alex Rider section on here… Let me know what you think, OK? Sorry it's s short. I've just copied out what I have on paper.
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Panting, running faster and faster. He glanced behind him, soon regretting it after catching a glimpse of yellow teeth and red eyes. He set off even faster, stubbling over fallen logs and roots. He didn't dare look behind him again, should he fall. A fence appeared out of the grim bluey-grey light, and he ran towards it. Rotten wood supporting a few levels of rusty barbed wire. Regardless of the pain on his numbed hands, he held tight to the wire and heaved his leg over. There was a snarling behind him. Trying as hard as he could to ignore the threatning noises of his persuer, he focused as much of his panicked concentration as he could on the fence and swung his other leg over. He landed with a dull thud on the ice-cold snow and lay there, listening to the yelps of the white wolf.
He lifted his blue hands and reached into his pocket. Gloves! He pulled them on stiffly and sat up. Fearfully looking back the way he had come, he saw a snow-filled and frosty forest, a pack of very angry wolves and the fence he had climbed over to escape. In front of him were miles and miles of flat, pure white snow. In the very distance, he saw his goal: a huge factory with smoke billowing out of a large chimney. It stuck out like a sore thumb. He smiled to himself. Typical.
He stumbled to his feet on horribly numb legs to get a better view of his surroundings, but it was featurless and cold. He heard a snap behind him and a low growl and decided to get moving. Anything was better than facing that monster again.
After a good fifty yards, he stopped and swung his rucksack to the floor, somewhat violently. He reached in and pulled out an injecting kit, filled the needle to the correct amount and injected his forearm with the anti-frostbite drug. He packed that away and then pulled out a flask that was only half-full. It was so precious. He unscrewed and took a carefully calculated mouthful of the burning hot water, wincing slighty as it burned a path down his sore throat. He stood there for a moment, feeling the glorious heat flow through him, then put everything back and swung the rucksack back onto his shoulder and set off again.
An hour later, he checked his watch. He had two hours left, and that factory didn't look any closer. He glanced behind him, to try and calculate the distance he had come, but there was no fence, no red eyes, just endless snow. He pulled out his compass and checked his direction. It said he was heading North-East, which was right. So where the hell had the fence gone? Surely he hadn't gone that far?
Not wanting to waste his precious time and energy think about pointless fences , he shrugged and ploughed on.
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A/N: Any good? I guess I have a teeeeeeensy bit of inspiration for the next one, but only if you guys think it's gonna be worth it.
xxx