The Conspiracy

Chapter XXVI: Hunting 22

Running. Can't breathe. Can't think. No pain. Trees and grass and fall. Up again. Chase. Heart. Clove. 22.

Chase. Find. Not find, hunt. Chase. Hunt. Kill. Sword is weightless. Win for her. Left her. Guilt. Lost her. Revenge. Win for her. Eyes sting. Breathe. Stop. Look. Listen. Turn and - nothing.

"Come on!" Anger. Throw spear. Shadow. Movement.


I have him.

I grit my teeth, keeping back another roar of fury and tear after him, wrenching the tip of the spear from the bark of the tree as I pass it. You're done, 22. Finished.

Catch. Kill. Cannon. Collapse. Cry.

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