Chasing Fate (Sentinel & Guide)

Chapter 9

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The sound of his guide screaming in distress had triggered something in Jack. It was as if the rest of the world changed to lead him directly to her. the scant moonlight that broke through the trees may as well have been full sun. The snowy ground could have been a sidewalk for as much attention he paid to it. His only goal was to get to her, fast.

He put in another burst of speed when her cries were abruptly cut off. He strained his ears but could only hear the voice of that bastard sentinel that had gotten to her first. He'd revealed his real name and she was fighting him like she had every right to do. He could hear the smack of her fists against a solid chest. Somewhere behind all of the panic, there was pride. Beyond that there was fear. She wouldn't be the first guide to fall to an enraged sentinel. He had to get there in time.

As he rounded a copse of trees he saw what could only be described as his worst nightmare made real. The vivid green of a fluorescent parka peeked out from the snow as the enemy sentinel in all black leaned down over the still form. The Sentinel was leaning into her neck...Were they bonding or... No. He could hear the gasping sound of her choking. He was killing her! 

With a strength he didn't even know he had, Jack ripped the sentinel back by his collar, casting him as far as he could throw him. The tree he hit shook under his weight, tossing down snow.

Beau took a circuitous route around the dangerous man to go check on his owner. He whined when she didn't move under his careful nosing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Jack roared, diving down to grab Breton by the front of his coat.

The dark-haired sentinel didn't deign to answer. It was his fault for getting ahead of himself. He should have dragged her back to a more secluded spot. He's underestimated this kid's abilities. He wouldn't make that mistake again. This was only a minor setback.

After all, fighting was also an integral part of staking a claim. What sort of sentinel couldn't fend off competitors?

He leaned into the grab, launching himself up and following through with a nasty haymaker. The battle was on.

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Fate blinked her eyes as she felt the familiar touch of a cold, wet nose.For a split second, she thought she back in bed, and the chase had just been a bad dream. Unfortunately, the grunt of two fighting sentinels was enough to dissuade her from that illusion.

Beau was standing protectively over her, growling at the fight but not moving a paw away from her. the two sentinels were engrossed in their battle. If she didn't know any better, she'd try to sneak away, but there was no escape. Her only hope was to get the coordinators involved.

She dug into her pocket to pull out her two-way radio, only to find that it wouldn't turn on. She'd forgotten to update the batteries. The flares were fine, luckily. She loaded a shell into the orange flare gun and fired it straight up. The bright red signals shot right up into the sky and would be visible for miles. She was close enough to her home and the road that anyone in town would be able to get close enough to break up this sideshow.

Unfortunately, the sound of the flare had brought Breton around.

"Know your place!" he snarled, lunging for her to strike. His hand was impeded by Beau, who bit him viciously and received a hard smack for his trouble. The dog yelped but stood firm. Behind the angry sentinel, Jack saw his chance. Clamping his fists together he swung as though aiming a baseball bat at Breton's head, knocking him out cold.

Jack's instincts told him to go and check on his guide, but the rational part of him was not going to take any chances. He immediately dropped his pack and rummaged around for the tent rope. Breton's hands and feet were bound and he was rolled a respectable distance away before Jack turned to check on the abused guide.

She was sitting up, staring at him in abject fear. Her body was shaking from more than the cold, and though Breton had not actually struck her face, a trickle of blood had begun to pour from her right nostril. The acrid smell of it was making him sick. She was going into shock.