Arilee

ARILEE

F ool.

He thought he had me cornered like a helpless animal.

The thing about being insignificant like me? The more they think they've got you pegged, the easier it is to prove them wrong. And I was about to shatter every assumption this Vinduthi hunter had made about his human prey.

Night was falling rapidly, bringing with it a bone-chilling cold that swept across the dunes. The wind picked up, carrying heavy sands that obscured visibility with each passing moment. I unwrapped my tattered dress, fashioning a makeshift covering for my head. The abrasive grains stung my eyes mercilessly, and the cool sweat that had once been a blessed relief now chilled me to my very core. Yet I had to keep moving. Stopping meant capture – or worse.

My mind drifted back to the Vinduthi tracker. The only thought that brought a flicker of warmth to my frozen limbs was imagining the dumbfounded look on his face when I hurled myself over that ledge.

"Ha," I scoffed into the howling desert air. My feeble boast was instantly swallowed by the crippling gale, muffled into nothingness. Like the asshole who thought he owned me, and the other who believed he could drag me back – it was all lost to the void. For once, being a "meager human" worked in my favor.

I was scrappy, and thank the heavens for that. When a girl has nothing but herself to lose, she discovers the true limits of what she's willing to sacrifice for what she wants. Is she prepared to give up everything? Or does she truly have nothing left to lose?

I had only myself. I was both the prize and the price, and I refused to pay it anymore. As the sun began its relentless climb on the horizon, I made a decision. I dug deep into the vow that had led me here and the feet that had carried me this far. I would have freedom, even if freedom meant staring death in the face and spitting in its eye.

I needed to get my bearings, to find something that resembled a path to liberation. I was throwing my life to chance and the desperate hope that fate – if such a thing even existed – would finally lend me a helping hand.

The climb was brutal. My raw hands and blistered feet scrabbled for purchase on a mountain that seemed determined to crumble beneath me with each shifting of the sands. Eventually, through sheer determination, I clawed my way up the summit. The air cleared momentarily, granting me just enough of a vantage point to spot an ancient, long-abandoned pathway snaking through the wasteland below.

Without hesitation, I planted myself on my backside and took the only easy ride I was likely to get. I slid down the treacherous slope, nerves wound tight, praying I'd reach that semblance of civilization in one piece. When my feet finally found solid ground on that weathered path, I foolishly thought I'd done it.

Truly. Naive little me believed my scrappy, human tenacity would be enough to outwit him. And it was – just not enough to outlast him. Looking over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of his imposing figure gaining on me with alarming speed. It would take more than I had left to escape this relentless pursuer.

The wind shrieked across the barren landscape as I tried desperately to increase my pace. I dared not look back; I knew he could outrun me any day of the week. But this wasn't just any day. This Vinduthi had no conception of what I would endure to claim my freedom. I would have walked across the surface of the sun itself to never wear those chains again.

"You–!" His furious voice was torn away by the howling gale, leaving me to imagine the string of curses that followed.

I willed my battered body to move faster, but it was a losing battle. The sand whipped between us, sometimes pushing against me, other times threatening to drag me straight back into his clutches. I was running on fumes, my stomach a gnawing void of hunger. Unless the wind miraculously shifted in my favor, I'd be back in his iron grip in a matter of moments.

"No!" I yelped, my voice barely a whisper in the maelstrom. Who the hell was this "fate" anyway? They'd never looked out for me before, and it didn't seem like they gave a damn about me now.

Eventually, the wind died down, but so did I. Worn to the bone, weary beyond measure, with sand embedded in every crevice of my skin, I felt the fight draining out of me. His hand clamped down on the scruff of my neck, but by then, I had no moisture left in my parched mouth to muster even a token scream.

Damn. Damn fool me.

His face swam in my fading vision as I finally succumbed to the wave of fatigue that crashed over me. It was almost a relief, in a twisted way. As I lay there, waiting and wondering what fresh hell he had in store for me, a perverse thought crossed my mind: It's better this way. If I could've died right then and there, it would've made it all worth it.

Too bad.

I came to slowly, my head throbbing and my mouth dry as dust. It took a moment for my foggy brain to register that I was moving, but not under my own power. The world swayed rhythmically, and I felt a hard surface pressing against my stomach.

As my senses sharpened, I realized with a jolt that I was draped over someone's shoulder like a sack of grain. My wrists were bound tightly behind my back, and the rough texture of rope dug into my skin.

"What the fuck?" I yelped, my voice hoarse from dehydration. I tried to wriggle free, but the arm wrapped around my legs tightened its grip.

"Finally awake, are we?" The deep voice of my captor rumbled through his body and into mine. I recognized it immediately – the Vinduthi tracker.

"Let me down, you oversized brute!" I demanded, kicking my legs as best I could in my bound state.

He chuckled darkly. "Not a chance. I'm not about to let you give me the slip."

"Again," I shot back, unable to resist the jab despite my precarious position. He stopped abruptly, and I felt myself being lowered to the ground. As my feet touched the coarse sand, I found myself confronted with my captor, the evening sun silhouetting his imposing figure.

Sure, he was mad as hell, but I couldn't resist relishing the thought that at least I'd given him a run for his money.

I also couldn't ignore the feeling of his hard body pressed against mine. This was a very inappropriate thought to have about the man who had just chased me down and kidnapped me again, and I didn't know where it had come from. But there it was.

He was slow to speak, preferring to look at me like I was something he'd scraped off his boot while he shifted his weight. With my eyes locked on him, waiting for the inevitable tirade, I realized that if he were going to kill me, he would've done it already.

Part of me smiled, wondering how far I could push my luck with him. Somehow he seemed immune to all we'd been through that day. Barely a grain of sand clung to him; he looked like he was tailored for this harsh environment.

"Now that you're awake, you can get on your feet," he said, setting me down unceremoniously on the desert ground.

If he wanted to say more, he didn't. I followed behind him as he pulled me back the way we'd come. I hated the terrible waste of it all.

I'd come so much further than I thought possible. I was nearly there, wherever "there" was. But at least I could relax on the way back.

I'd been caught, the jig was up. And unless I found a way to weasel out of these bindings, the whole thing was over. I had nothing left to do but sit back and let it happen.

What a waste of effort.

And what would happen to me when I was returned?

I shuddered, thinking about the level of bruising that would be the "appropriate" punishment for my escape. I wondered how much worse it was about to get. He had no idea what he was returning me to, and as I studied his lean form, I wondered if it was something I could educate him about.

I had nothing but straws to grasp at, I had to give it all I had.

"You know he treats me like property," I stated matter-of-factly.

"You are his property." His answer was indifferent to the fact, so I tried again.

"I'm his work of art," I said, tugging back to make him listen. "He likes to paint a picture on me. My body is a canvas, painted in bruises."

He didn't say anything, but he pulled at me less, and after a while, I found we were walking side by side, and I kept stealing glances as the evening sun disappeared on the horizon.

In those last few seconds of daylight, I thought I saw the reflections of emotion on him. This Vinduthi meant to finish his job, but maybe he had a flicker of decency in him yet.

All I had to do was stall him, delay him. Talk to him. It was my only hope.

"It's getting dark," I observed, with the two of us walking in sync. I knew I had to give the pretense of trust, especially if I was to use it to slip away again.

"We're not stopping," he answered with a nerve in his voice. "I'm not taking any chances with you."

"I can't walk anywhere if I die from exhaustion," I tried to point out.

"I can always drag you," he remarked with a half-grin.

My bound hands made walking treacherous. When I hit a rock with my foot, I bumped into him, and to my surprise, he grabbed me by both shoulders, keeping me steady. I figured there had to be a beating heart in there, and if I was lucky, maybe a bleeding one, too.

"At least let me rest a little before you take me back. You don't know what we're walking towards."

Nothing. A stone wall. But even a stone wall had to eat sometimes.

"C'mon, you've gotta be as tired as I am. I'm starving. Don't you Vinduthi eat?" If I couldn't appeal to his sense of reason, I'd try his sense of hunger.

He slowed down, mulling over my words, and looking around as if something I said finally made sense to him.

"We'll make camp here for the night," he said, walking me to a barren tree and tying me to it with practiced efficiency.

He stepped back into the brush and started gathering dry branches. I sat there, powerless to do anything but watch.

"I'll start a fire," he said, as he fastened the rope around a heavy rock and knotted it several times. "And don't even think about running."

"Why?" I asked, a hint of challenge in my voice. "You'll get to catch me all over again."

I could have sworn that I saw him smile at that as he left to gather more firewood. As the darkness settled around us, I watched him work, my mind racing with possibilities.

This wasn't over yet.

Not by a long shot.