Mya

The bark of the tree cuts into my scalp as I lean against the strong trunk, gasping for air like I'm suffocating. I grip the sides of the tree and shake uncontrollably. Water runs down my bare legs in streams, pooling around my bare feet which are covered in paper mache leaves.

Even over the roar of the river and the chattering of my teeth, our pursuer's words find my ears, driving a new emotion into my skull.

Terror.

Now, I can't be sure if I'm shaking from the cold or from the fear I feel coursing through my veins alongside my red blood cells, beating like a symphony with every ragged heartbeat, multiplying as I suck in starved breaths.

They're not just chasing us.

They're hunting us.

I escaped the temporary security of my own home to become nothing more than prey.

Sakir appears beside me suddenly, his face red.

"I'm going after them," he whispers in angry tones. I shake my head in an attempt to untangle my tongue.

"You can't," I mumble, fighting my numb lips and face.

"Why not?" he snaps, taking his dry backpack off and tossing it at my feet. His hands move with incredible speed to undo the clasp and dig through for the change of clothes I promised him.

"They have guns, Sakir," I state, watching him, frozen to the spot. Just the idea of guns paralyzes me. We wouldn't stand a chance if they started firing.

"So? I can sneak up behind them." He peels the shirt off his drenched skin, crumbling it into a ball and tossing it towards the water. It sails in a perfect arc, landing near the center of the villainous river before getting sucked away.

"I don't doubt that," I say, glancing away as he begins to ease his pants off, "but you're one person. There's at least three of them."

"Four, actually, and I've fought them before. They're the ones who kidnapped me."

"Judging by where we are right now, I think you lost that fight."

Sakir laughs, a dry single exhale, making me look back over at him. The smile on his face is impressed and warm.

"Are you going to finish getting dressed?"

He nods, bending down and jerking the dry pants up over his knees.

"I thought since you had a brother it wouldn't be a problem," he mumbles, pulling the too-small shirt over his head. I watch as he jerks at the neck.

"You're not Finn."

He sighs, nodding.

"Unless you want to freeze to death, I suggest you change, too. I'll stand guard over there." He points in the direction that we're about to head before shuffling away with his bag.

As soon as he's out of sight, I take off my backpack, not surprised to see that it's soaking wet. The water immersed it when we stepped into the river. I untie the knot keeping it closed, groaning at the mess within.

One by one, I drag out the few things I brought with me of sentimental value.

Finn's favorite book, a ragged copy of Meditations on the First Philosophy by Rene Descartes. My diary, now nothing more than a soggy mess of paper and ink. The ingredient list for the third strand, wet but still in one peice. Finn's stuffed fox from when we were small, and Finn's comb- the one he never used but sometimes played like an air guitar to cheer me up.

I lay the items out of the ground, assessing the damage.

The book and diary are past saving. With a little luck, I could salvage the list and the fox. The comb looks untouched.

What upsets me the most is the fact that all of my clothes are soaked. It would be a waste of time to get them all out, so I just drag out the first pair of pants and t-shirt that I come across. They're drenched in cold water, but at least they're clean. With a grimace, I change, throwing my clothes in the water like Sakir did.

Then, I pack my backpack again, leaving my diary and book to their natural grave by the riverside.

Sakir walks over to me, giving me a once over.

"Your backpack got soaked, didn't it?" he asks, grimacing. I nod, exhaling.

"We should have thought of that. Yours was untouched."

"Well, if you weren't so short, it wouldn't have been a problem."

I smile despite the pang of sadness that hits me full force in the stomach. He sounds like Finn. I'd been expecting that exact response, but in a higher pitched voice, lilted with puppy-like playfulness. Instead, Sakir says it with soft scolding.

Tears rush to my eyes, and Sakir groans, turning away before I can burst into tears. I glare at his back, following him into the woods once more.

Around us, the forest falls asleep. The sun begins to set. Blue and purple beams of light dance through the thick trees, casting playful, infantile shadows in the dark space between us. The birds stop chirping, giving the crickets, cicadas, and frogs room to start their own musical number.

The temperature bottoms out, coupling with the bitter wind that slices alongside the pastel lights. My clothes turn to ice around me and form a crippling prison. I shiver uncontrollably, wrapping my arms around myself as we walk uphill.

The soft leaves disappear and are replaced with a ground that's rocky and solid. The trees shrink but rise taller, stretching towards the aurora sky with skeleton fingers.

The entire scene deserves to be enjoyed, but I can't stop walking, can't pause for more than a second to catch my breath. With every inch of darkness that falls, my pace quickens, and my panic rises. Once the sun goes away, we won't be able to see our pursuers.

My legs are almost numb. My feet are bleeding and raw from leaving the soaked shoes behind at the river.

"Sakir," I whisper, reaching out to grab the back of his shirt. My fingers miss their target, instead grazing the dry surface of fabric.

"What's wrong?" he whispers back, stopping and looking down at me with concern.

"I don't know if I can keep going for much longer."

He simply nods, glancing around us.

"We'll stop for the night, but we have to find shelter. It isn't safe to stay out in the open. Can you make it just a little further?"

I bite my lip, weighing my options. Argue with him, throw a fit, and stay out in the middle of the woods like a sitting duck, or I could suck it up and go a little farther. He's the expert out here, not me. Trusting him seems like the best option. Where would fighting get me.

Finally, I nod, holding his forearm as he starts walking again. He all but pulls me up the steep slope. He isn't even short of breath, but I feel dizzy. The stitch in my side pulses with every step; my thighs cramp.

The ground doesn't even back out until night has completely fallen around us. Sakir digs the flashlight out of his bag, shining it in front of us. The yellow pool of light illuminates a black hole in the side of a hill, covered in curtains of moss and honeysuckle.

"I knew the bats had to be coming from somewhere," he mutters, pulling me towards the cave. Water drips from the ceiling. Moss coats the walls, looking more like snot than nonvascular plants.

"Don't light a fire," Sakir says as he leads me to a semi-dry spot near the opening of the cave. Moonlight illuminates the small space, but the flashlight helps.

"Even if I had the materials do to that," I say, taking my backpack off, "why not?"

"You could attract the dogs."

I hum in understanding, watching as he roots through his bag. With a whistle, he pulls out the blanket and wraps it around his shoulders. Then, he plops down beside me, nestling into the ground.

I glare at him. Finn would have given the blanket to me in an instant. Sakir's obviously not that much of a gentleman. It's not fair of me to compare the two of them, but Finn's my only point of reference for manly- or rather boyish- behavior.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Sakir asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'm freezing, and you're hogging the blanket."

It comes out much drier than I intended, but the message comes across. Sakir groans, unwrapping the blanket and tossing half over my legs. I squeal in glee, pulling it up over my chest.

"Sleep," he says, chuckling. "I'll guard."

I don't argue as the exhaustion wipes over me. I'm lulled to sleep by the ambient sounds around me, faster than any song or white noise or silence combined.