She grimaced when she noticed a large gash in her right knee, probably from when she had tripped a quarter mile back trying to create a shortcut through a thick patch of shrubs and roots. Bits of twigs and pebbles stuck out of it, along with blood that was now frozen onto the skin. She tried hard not to think about how painful that would be once she got feeling back in the lower half of her body.
She did not even look at her feet, afraid of what she might see. She was afraid that the odd snap she had heard two miles into her run had been one of her toes coming off. She did, however, take note of a viscous green fluid that had splattered all the way up to her pelvis at some point. It seemed to be fading even as she watched it, like suntan lotion as it seeped into your skin. A feeling of relief came over her and she began to think there was at least some hope for her frozen appendages.
Deciding she had wasted enough time, she pushed off from the tree with one arm, her body groaning in rebellion as she forced it into movement again. Looking at the forest ahead of her, she saw no real path in sight. It looked like a black and white etching from a Brothers Grimm story, especially the oaks with their leaves long dead from the fall. Yet as horrible as it seemed, she thought she could see the pale light of civilization past them and she dared to think that she might be close to some form of sanctuary.
She turned and smirked at the tree she had leaned against, looking at the withered knots and crannies that made up its haggard face.
Someone had told her years ago that every tree had a face. She had thought it to be fairy tale bullshit, but if tonight had proven anything it was just the opposite. They had been her only company since she’d entered the tree-line.
“Thanks,” she whispered humbly.
Old Man Oak seemed to approve.
Then she saw it out of the corner of her eye.
She turned, her hair again catching in her eyes, toward the soft glint she could have sworn she had seen near the edge of the clearing. It was gone now and she squinted and strained her eyes toward the spot where it had been, wishing to the moon for just a little more light.
She got her wish as a pair of headlights turned on from the horizon, illuminating her in bright yellow. Her mouth wide, she thrust up her hands to protect herself from the temporary blindness so instinctively that she almost dropped the blankets she’d been using for warmth.
Immediately after she was doused in light, the source of the glint she had seen was identified. Rifle fire erupted all around her, turning the face of Old Man Oak into sharp splintered sticks. They bounced off her parka as she turned and bolted into the black forest with more gunshots following her, tearing up the virgin snow and sending it sailing in all directions at once.
She pumped her legs harder and faster than she ever had as sweat began to freeze to her scalp. She heard the sound of three... no, four engines revving to life as they started their decent down the clearing after her.
Sharp twigs nipped at her exposed flesh as she fled into the nearest clump of trees too dense for one of their snowmobiles to follow through. She started to make her way toward the light she had seen a moment ago, but had already lost track of.
The leader of the drivers vaulted off a mogul, landing in an outburst of fresh powder. It sprayed up into his face and parka. The other drivers followed in suit close behind. He leaned over the right edge of his snowmobile and took aim at the woman as her form began to disappear through the trees. He trained his eye on her while struggling to maintain his balance, a circular red lens over his right eye. It looked like a futuristic monocle and displayed information to him, feeding him decreasing statistics on her distance from him, wind resistance, and speed. Smirking to himself from beneath his gray toque, he applied first pressure to the trigger slowly. He fought to keep the barrel in line with the small of her back as she bobbed and weaved through the brush.
His left ski hit a rock hidden by the snow and made his arm jostle to the right, the gun firing at the same time. The shoulder strap on his rifle came loose and he cursed as he was forced to drop it to steady the vehicle. He watched her continue to move away from his team as one of the other drivers stopped at a line of brush to continue on foot, leaving the engine running.
The leader turned toward the front, trying to see if there was a way he could continue with his machine. All at once, it seemed like his snowmobile had stopped moving. The tree that the woman had been standing next to was much closer than he had judged it to be and was moving directly at him.
He barely got the chance to react as the front slammed into the trunk at top speed. He got the chance to think one thought, comprised of exactly one word, before the left side of his face ripped across the jagged, splintered wood of the tree. The momentum carried him forward, slamming his shoulder completely out of socket before launching him into the bushes behind it. The broken red glass from his lens protruded from multiple gouges across the right side of his face. He could already feel his mouth and lungs fill with gummy, coppery liquid and bile through the dual
