My First Story

[Oberon]

This is the first time I've tried writing. I really want honest opinions on this so I know whether or not I should keep working on this.

[Oberon]

The girl sprints through the forest, tucks, rolls, and slides under the perimeter fence. Soon, she is in the trees. Running as fast as she can, she feels the first bullets punch through the air behind her. With speed bordering on superhuman, she changes direction, not even noticing the branches whipping at her bare skin, or tangling in her short cropped hair, blacker than midnight. She tugs at the hide collar around her neck, jangling with bronze charms. The only blessing she has is a curse, as there is no moon out to light her way, or reflect off of the bangles she wears around her neck. With remarkable dexterity, she slips through a stand of close-growing ferns, and, smelling fresh mud, she instinctively knows she is not far from a creek. The young woman enters the water with barely a splash. She begins to run back and forth across the small stream, always heading north, toward the town she knows is only miles away. Soon, the dogs tracking her will be unable to pick up her scent. She pauses at the edge of a ravine, a natural gouge in the rock, and starts to search for what she can use to get her collar off. She finds a sharp rock and sets to work. Within a minute, the collar is almost severed, but she hears noises coming from behind. She sprints into the canyon. With one last tug, she manages to get her collar off. She throws it into the stream, hoping that what scent she left on it will soon wash away. Now completely exposed, she decides to try for a straight shot north. With luck, her pursuers will have found the collar and decided it was too dangerous to go further. She could cover more ground with the moon out, but the clouds haven’t rolled back quite enough yet. Exhausted, frightened, and weak, she continues on. The second she climbs out of the canyon, she hears the report of a rifle. The race is back on. Faintly, she can hear the sound of ATVs. Dogs bark in the distance. Another bullet is fired. Then, another. A flash-bang grenade goes off in the woods 80 yards away from her. On her last legs, she sprints into the forest, ready to make one last try… and then it happens. The moon slides out from behind the clouds, and she smiles. Maybe things are looking up. She reaches inside herself, and tugs sharply on the now active part of her being that makes her dangerous. Soon, bright silver fur ripples over her, clothing her completely. Her bones crackle, pop, and reshape themselves. Her face loses all resemblance of humanity, taking on the form of her spirit animal, the cougar. Only her eyes remain the same. She gets to her feet, stretches, and turns back toward the men who had captured her, beaten her, and chained her. She pads through the forest, now a massive cougar, 5 feet high at the shoulder, and aching for a chance at payback.
The first thug dies without knowing what is happening to him. His squadmate has enough time to turn before fangs close around his neck. A third dies when a claw punctures his back and pops his heart. The fourth and final one is later found in the remains of his dogs, his entrails strewn across the dark ground. She sprints through the forest, eyes and ears alert, noting the exact position of all the guards chasing her. She leaps over a log, simultaneously knocking a slim man off of his four wheeler. He dies beneath the wheels of his commanding officer, who only has time to see a blur of moonlight cross his path. Before he can react, it disappears into the forest. Soon the trees are filled with confusion, dogs yelping, men dying, and blood soaking into the thirsty roots of the plants. Her desire for revenge satisfied, the cougar heads north, toward the town. She has managed to accomplish what few others in the camp have. Soon, she will reach the town. She will then steal clothing from a washline, find a bank, and make a withdrawal. That will be the last sign the people from the camp have that she had ever been there. She enters the town silently, stealing into a backyard where she can hear clothes snapping in the breeze. The change is quick. She begins to push on her other half, and soon the girl is back to her old self. She swipes an old shirt, pants, and a jacket. The bus depot is open all night, and she is just in time to catch the last bus to Seattle. A quick withdrawal is made from a nearby ATM. She pays for her ticket, and quickly runs across the street to pick up an old pair of boots sitting out by a trash can. As she climbs onto an old Greyhound bus, a man watches her from the series of bluffs that overlook the entire town. He knows that she has been in range this whole time, and it would be remarkably easy to take her life if he so chose. His rifle is unloaded, but the scope is trained firmly on her. He squeezes the trigger three times, knowing that each time the bullet would find its mark. He smiles, a humorless smile, and climbs back up to the camp. She was remarkable, really. A natural born fighter. He’d let her have some fun, as a reward for her work tonight. And then, when she had led him to others like her, he’d dispose of her. The man inhales, savoring the moment. Soon, a lone figure strides to the forest camp, and prepares to follow her. This girl would expect to be followed. But the Hunter knew she would not see him until it was far too late.