Hunting You, Hunting Me (Watty Awards 2012)

Chapter 8

A/N: Some of you have expressed how you would like longer chapters. This one is long (by my standards) although I don’t feel that it flows as well as the shorter chapters. Let me know what you think. And this one is a little lighter because Estela needs a break and I wanted you to get a little insight into her personality. The story may seem slow but I promise you that things start moving much faster in the next chapter, which I will be posting at the same time as this one...so you will have 2 new chapters. : )

A big thank you to when_forever_ends for editing this.

All Rights Reserved © 2012

Chapter 8

I begin to stir and slowly open my eyes. My attempts to clear my throat are futile because I am parched. My tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of my mouth. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust and my vision to focus revealing a canopy of leaves above me along with a dimly lit sky. Alarmed, I sit up with a start. My little afternoon siesta may have cost me the campers! Which way had they gone? I take a moment to get my bearings and continue in the direction that I had been taking earlier. This time I walk slower. The sleep was good for my soul but had failed to replenish my energy.

I cannot tell you for how long I walk, but by the time I make any progress the forest is dark. The sky is clear and I know immediately that the night is going to be a cool one. As if hearing my thoughts, the wind slowly picks up, disturbing the leaves that looked like they were soundly asleep. The aroma of moist tree bark fills my nostrils. This is one of my favorite smells, but from this day forward it will only bring unpleasant memories.

Life can change in an instant, I think to myself bitterly.

Panic setting in, I start to move faster ignoring the pain in my joints. The only sounds that reach my ears are the rustling of the leaves and the harmonic beat of my own footsteps. The appearance of faint shadows in the trees ahead gives me some hope.

Fire! The campers have lit a fire. Joyfully, I make my way towards the camp with the help of shadows that are dancing on the trees.

With the forest so dark and dense, I decide that it would be advantageous to have an aerial view. I look around for the easiest tree to climb. Pulling myself up on the lowest branch, I make my way up until I can go no further. I am not as fit as I had hoped. Perched up on the branch I can see the small clearing with two tents, one blue and one red. A good six feet away from the tents is the bonfire that drew me here, like a moth to a flame.

I can hear the family talking. I’m not one for eavesdropping, but today I am lonely. I pretend to be a part of the conversation and nod my head accordingly while giving my own opinions in whispers. I am having fun. Okay, not rip-roaring fun, but the kind of fun one can only derive from a crappy situation like this.

I stay on my branch for a few hours, waiting for my chance as I watch the family cook their meal. Hot dogs are on the menu. The smell of franks grilling on the fire makes my stomach grumble in longing. I wonder if they are beef or pork. What I would give to have a hot dog in my hands. It feels as though my mouth is trying to water, but my body cannot spare the fluids. I pinch my nose shut and breathe through my mouth instead.

“Those boys we saw today…” the man says taking a huge bite of his hot dog, “one of them is the mayor’s son.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?” his wife asks while squeezing some ketchup on her bun.

“The blond one…you know with that weird scar on his nose?” he answers.

“Oh, honey! If we see his sister and return her to them, maybe you will get a raise? You have been working for the mayor’s office for so long and I think you deserve it,” his wife says righteously.