The fire blared in front of the wooden cabin, with the singing of the trees, aligned with the rustling of leaves that fell. Lucian breathed coolly, looking at the box he cradled in his arms, and the cawing of crows from a distance, with the sun limping downwards, and the moon hovering from above, some water boiled, he stared, dazed and unsure as Lucian moved the box to his side, tending to the fire and the food that was brewing, pulling out a warm canister of hot soup from it, sipping the contents, hurt. Stars glided, his eyes furrowed, drinking through the soup, his throat warming, his eyes watering, he sighed, standing up, pulling out a shovel, with the cold air no longer gripping, as the fire provided warmth. He dug three feet downwards, before stopping and resting, lifting the box, inside a cat, a cat that Margaret gave him, Lucian's eyes watered, and his throat sobbed. Lifeless. He picked up the coffin, and gently cradled it in its grave, piling up the soil quietly and softly, not wanting to disturb the cat’s sleep.

  He picked up the soup he had, and poured some over the grave, to feed the cat one last time. He sighed, washing out the fire as he drank what was left before he walked towards a tent. A twig snapped, he ignored it, expecting it to be a wild animal, a fox or a wild boar, several more twigs snapped, he looked behind him, unsure. He felt a snap, a trigger pulled, a hail of lead that smacked into his camp, one ripped right through his shirt

  It flashed, he stood up, tripped, ran, tripped, hearing shouts, shooting, bullets, running, lasers were pointed at him, a hail of bullets came towards him, he tripped, another ripped through him, he stumbled, he ran. More footsteps ran after him, he dodged passed trees, through brambled vines, as life dripped effortlessly, his heart stuttered, he skipped, tumbled, jumped, lept, hit. A log smashed through him, a trap well made to capture him, as its wooden features cracked through his ribs, throwing him off balance, he tried to stand up, black running through his veins, hatred running through him. A shock passed him, with more men walking up to him, tasering, flashing at him, wires coming from rifles electrocuting him in shock, making him pass out slowly. He protested, yet again it surged through him, with more iron rods clawing into his skin. It went dark

  Night carried on, with the caravan of men carrying his body on a stretcher, his eyes half opened in shock, watching. All wore equipment of breakthroughs, with helmets designing them to see perfectly in the dark as if it was day, some armed with rifles familiar to what he escaped from, two-man crews that carried them. Some were armed with light rifles, and some had their helmets off, laughing and discussing how easy their catch was, there were about 60 of them. The stars cried as a fire bloomed, with a perimeter made, some soldiers tending to a fire, while others set up tents, and some stood guard, watching him, tied against a tree.

  “How long till’ extraction?” It was a corporal asking the question, slick uniform slightly undone, the helmet he perched upon, looking at a bigger man, with a scar across his face, a blinded eye, blond hair and a stern look

  “Four hours, catch some rest.” There was a nod, Lucian gripped his hands, furious, yet the bark scratched away at his skin

  “Then what?”

  “Deliver the payload, then we’ll be after another one of these rogues”

  “Ryker?”

  “Different- Force Theta ambushed the site a few days ago, but lost it, thirty miles, North East.”

  “Another hunt” he joked, lying down

  “Yep, last we heard it was heading southwards, would be a miracle if we ran into it” The commander replied, pulling out a knife, and slicing through an apple. Enjoying the juices that leapt from it.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The camp remained quiet, sleeping. Lucian remained awake, the tree forcing him to. Being tied up to a tree, immobile, with any movement being scraped by the bark, his wounds were tended to, yet was guarded, with three men on guard, and ten more around the perimeter. The night seemed to blanket them, with the stars as its pattern wove through the void, hiding the hunters and the hunted. He was also confused, never seeing these people before, of elite sorts, more skilled than the hunters, better equipped. Maybe if he ran fast enough, as the woods got denser, yet he was bleeding, the wolves would have followed his trail, whatever the sort was, he had given up. Expecting to be thrown in a room, a white aimless room treated as a monkey, an animal. Death was better, more preferable.

  The trees that surrounded the camp didn’t sleep, he could hear their whispers, their thoughts, their anger. One of the trees shook, about 40 metres away, the patrol of men saw this. Some talked, and questioned, before agreeing and splitting up into two groups of five towards the disturbance, none would come back. An owl howled, and the trees cackled, a scream broke loose, with the camp alarmed. Men waking up confused and dreary to their gear, he watched them confused himself, some falling like flies, bullets flanking the tree line that surrounded them, others firing, with a blur moving amongst the army, the fire was only whisps, it went dark. His eyes darted around, excited, and adrenaline shared between them all. Bewildered men shouting, coordinated screams of agony, bodies dropping. The camp was in disarray, half in flames, half dead.

  Radios sirened, and men regrouped, forming a protective circle around them as they darted out of the camp, disillusioned, who ambushed them? Another organisation? Army? They didn’t bother to find out, none would want to, forgetting Lucian, tied up against the tree, watching, seeing shadows cower away, with him being the last soul within the camp, a sweat burrowed from his brow. He passed out, something hit him on the head.

  Birds sang, the sun rose, with the forest carried on as if nothing happened, he woke up to the tender smell of cooked meat. He was no longer chained, resting on a makeshift bed made out of twigs, his abdomen healed, his sooty hair fell over his eyes, he could see another self, shorter than him by a foot, standing at 5’7, tending to the fire, not paying notice to him. He was shocked, not by his odds, nor by his luck, but by who caught him, an Alien?

  The figure had deep blue eyes, ears pricked up like a fox, scanning about the wilderness, black hair, black tail, Lucian sat up, looking at the figure, it looked towards him, taking a bowl of wood and pouring a broth, walking towards him. He wasn’t scared, he was surprised, did such humans exist? The figure was wounded, with a patched-up chest and arm, bare and exposed, a healing scar down his cheek, he received the bowl.

  They both stared at each other for a second, one looking calm, and the other bewildered, the bewildered one spoke.

  “W- Wha’s your name?” Lucian asked, coldly, trying to mask his surprise seeing the younger figure sit in front of him, drinking some soup as well.

  “I’m referred to as Kama- Named after the project that made me”

  “Are there more of you?” Lucian asked, the former shook his head

  “So… you’re a fox human?” Kama nodded, staring back at him eating

  “Why did you save me?” Lucian asked, confused

  “Instinct.”

  “Were they after you as well?” There was a nod, a bush rustled, they both looked, a squirrel ran by, Lucian was in awe, confused, and relieved, he felt his muscles loosen up the more he ate, stomach growling for more.

  "I'm Lucian...- Thanks." He let out a smile, Kama smiled back.