I function on a level of perspective that I like to call, 'negative realism'. To put it simply, it was acknowledging the minor percentage. Sometimes it was an optimistic point of view, and other times it was pessimistic, but no matter what happens, you will have taken everything into consideration. There were three steps to this invented thought process of mine: 1 – accept all variables. 2 – Accept the minor percentage. 3 – Accept the majority.

If the weather man tells you there is a 40% chance of rain for tomorrow, you firstly need to acknowledge that the weather man is probably wrong. Weathermen are idiots. Secondly, you need to remind yourself that there is only a 10% difference between it raining, and not raining. That day, precipitation may very well occur, and you need to be prepared. Now that you're good and paranoid, the last thing to do is appreciate the majority. According to the lying weatherman, it's probably not going to rain. Deep breath, exhale – enjoy.

If I completely negated this way of thinking, I was a dead man. There couldn't be any feasible way to escape an arrow to the face, could there? At that particular moment, I didn't have the time to have a mathematical deduction on 'possibility'. According to statistics, I should probably be getting an autopsy in a few minutes. Cause of death: arrow to the face. So why, then am I still alive? That's right – I'd forgotten to accept the variables.

I'd prayed for Jacky to magically phase into the area and save me – I'd prayed for some angel to smite the lost boy on top of me – and I'd prayed that I suddenly hulk out and kick some teenaged-boy ass. None of these things happened. They weren't so much 'variables' as they were 'fantasies', though, so I didn't count on it in the first place. What did happen, though, was I woke up. Literally – woke up.

I flinched awake; my throat so dry that the gasp that tried to leave my mouth got stuck at the base of my tongue. With eyes wild and frightened, I quickly scanned the area, trying to focus my sight more clearly. Nothing was there – not even a single pebble was out of place. Jacky was still asleep, our bags were left untouched, and the sun seemed to be just poking out over the horizon – at least, I could assume so, but one could never tell in this horrible forest. My heart rate slowly settled, the energy seeping out of my clenched fists and into the cool dirt beneath me. We were safe, for now.

I suppose I spoke too soon, though, considering just inches from my neck lay a wooden arrow, sticking straight up out of my most definitely torn sweater. Cue the heart attack. Wrenching it from the ground, I hastily shook awake the thankfully not-injured Jacky, grabbing my pack and zipping it shut. "Jacky, this isn't the time to sleep in. We're in trouble – possibly big trouble," I whispered, trying my very best not to let the panic bleed through my voice.

She groaned quietly, twitching away from me like a child who didn't want to wake up just yet. "Can't it wait five more minutes?" Jacky whined, stretching herself awake in a slower-moving way than molasses in January.

"Dude, no. This isn't exactly the best place to take a nap! One of us should have been keeping watch!" I seethed, gesturing spastically to emphasize my growing frustrations. It was just like Jacky to act like a sloth when we needed to pick up the pace. Where there's smoke, there's fire. Where there are stray arrows, there are surely archers.

Jacky scoffed at me, reassembling her knapsack and pushing herself off the ground. "What's the problem anyways, Mel? Besides the obvious, I mean."

I glared at her, shoving the currently snapped arrow into her hand. "That is the problem. Someone is – or was – around here." While I felt mildly smug watching her face blanch considerably, I was a little worried that I'd just sent us both into a panic.

To my great appreciation, my older companion quickly regained her confidence, filling in the hole my sudden hopelessness had created within me. She cast the arrow off into some bushes, glancing around herself cautiously. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mel, but I have a feeling somebody out there knows exactly where we are." Jacky pointed to the snapped arrow flippantly, "This is just a warning. We probably should've been out of here a while ago."

I nodded solemnly. The thought had occurred to me before, but I had actively been avoiding the possibility. "If they already know where we are, it doesn't matter what we do, then." A short, grievous laugh reverberated its way up my vocal cords as I continued, "It's not like we have some magical way off this isla-"

Jacky cut me off abruptly, slapping a hand over my mouth. We both quieted down instantly, not even daring to breathe for fear of making too much noise. Then I heard it – she must have noticed it before me. Footsteps - perfectly even footsteps, hardly even registering in my ears as a real sound. My already uneven breathing hitched, and the two of us slowly backed into the thicker area of trees, trying to avoid disturbing even a single speck of dust on the ground.

We ducked behind an awfully bushy area of brambles and weeds, peering through the spaces between the leaves at the pair of boys who'd walked into the previously habited clearing of ours. I nearly cried, spotting the semi-familiar face of my dream 'murderer'. Jacky noticed my sudden apprehension and lightly placed her hand on my shoulder for reassurance. Conflict raced around my head like a wildfire. Was I going to be a coward again? Would I have the guts to stick around?

I seriously doubted I'd be able to even make my muscles work, they felt so heavy and immovable. There was no way we'd be able to get away without making it painfully obvious which way we were heading. Either they don't find us here, or we bite the bullet. I seemed to be choosing between life and death pretty often nowadays, how that I think about it.

As if reading my mind, one of the lost boys snickered to themselves, returning from their fake play at ignorance. "You might as well come out now. We know you're there."

Death it is, then. For the second time today.

"Your apologies will never soothe the sting. Just keep scratching our eyes out. Well you should've known, you should've known, you should've known. Run, you can run, but we'll find you." – Matchbook Romance: You Can Run, But We'll Find You

AN: Oof. It's 12:45 this time. God, I should do this earlier. Sleep is important kids, don't do fanfiction. (This has been a PSA.) dUN DUN DUH. Was it really not obvious last chapter? Maybe it's just me – I am, after all, the writer. Hope I did at least a tiny bit better with dialogue this time… Heheh… Thanks to Msballetdiva, arosequartz, and Lady Cocoa for reviewing! Good to know someone likes Jacky! See you later, sON.