Black Mist darted over the roofs of buildings under the cover of the night. He had waited for the moon to rise so that he would be harder to spot. After all, the last thing he wanted was some Number finding him and getting the whole town to murder him.

His foot slipped, and Black Mist fell to the ground with a thud. He got up and groaned, shaking his head to clear it.

Realizing that he landed in front of a house, Black Mist looked around frantically for anyone who may want to kill him. Luckily, all of the Numbers were sleeping heavily. He sighed and counted himself lucky.

At least, that was what he thought until a shrill screech shattered the silence.

"DARK NUMBER!!!!!"

Black Mist whipped around to the source of the sound. It was a little girl, no more than 10. She was white with blank blue eyes. She had a gold dress and bare feet.

His ears pricked when he heard many more voices saying "Dark Number." Black Mist cursed and tried to get up.

A sharp pain in his right foot stopped him from taking off. He realized that he may have broken or sprained his ankle, which sent him into panic. His right foot was his launching foot; without it, he wouldn't be able to get away fast enough!

"Shit…" Black Mist cursed.

The Numbers were getting closer, and he was able to see them clearly now, which wasn't really a good thing. Sure, he liked seeing his enemy, but in this situation when he had to flee, seeing the enemy was a bad thing.

Black Mist got up and gritted his teeth, enduring the pain for now. Since he couldn't launch without causing significant pain and a definite crash landing, he would have to make it on foot, just like he was doing for this whole trip.

Black Mist swiftly made two sturdy planks out of ooze and strapped them to both sides of his foot to keep it from moving too much. Then, he got up and started limping into the alley, where he would be at least covered from the prying eyes.

He looked over his shoulder, and to his horror, he saw the Numbers storming toward him. Black Mist shuddered and tried to go faster, but it was no use. His ankle hurt him too much to go any faster than the pace he was going, which was dangerously slow. He couldn't keep this pace for long; he would become roadkill before he could get out!

Black Mist looked up and saw a low hanging branch. Perfect! It was just what he needed! He reached up, took hold of the branch, and hauled himself up and out of the reach of anyone.

Black Mist sighed and leaned against the trunk of the tree, dangling his injured leg. He was lucky that the tree was there within his reach. Who knew what would happen if he had to keep going at the pace he was going?