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With a roar of outrage, I lose control.
My Mina.
They're hunting her like an animal.
Spikes rip through my skin, shredding my clothes. I storm towards the walls, determined to find her. To save her.
To protect her like I'm supposed to.
Chaos erupts in the courtyard. Distantly, I'm aware of several of the clones rushing forward, jabbing their shock-sticks into me, but I'm so pumped full of adrenaline and anger that I grab the sticks and fling them aside, the shocks doing nothing. "Leave him alone," I hear distantly—Lord va'Rin. "Let him find her."
Find her. The words drill through my mind.
Find her.
Bring her home safe.
Kill anyone that gets in my way.
Like the monster that I am, I reach the wall and dig my shorn claws into the stone. A hot, painful shock ripples through my system but I ignore it, climbing the sheer face until I reach the solar panels on top and rip them down. I scale over the top of the wall and thump down onto the other side, utterly mindless except for one thing.
Mina.
Her scent is out here, I realize. Old and distant, and crisscrossed by half a dozen other scents. Other gladiators.
With a feral snarl, I begin to hunt.
36
MINA
I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm so dead.
The thought ping-pongs back and forth in my mind as I run, breathless and panting, through the underbrush. I've managed to survive for two days now, running like a wild woman and climbing trees, anything to try and get my scent off the ground. I have no weapons. I have no armor, no nothing but the slave shift on my back and my wits. For two days now, I've lived off of sheer adrenaline, racing away when I had nothing left in the tank, struggling onward even though I want nothing more than to sleep or to hide.
But I know from my experience with Crulden that scents are important to hunters, and so I can't stop. I do everything I can to throw off my scent, rolling in mud and animal scat when I have to, crossing through creek-beds and backtracking over my own trail. I use every trick I've seen on television and read in books, and I know it's not enough. Everything out here is bred to hunt, to track, and to kill. When they're not in gladiator games, they're chasing down humans just like me. I'm not going to be able to outsmart them.
I'm also running out of strength. I haven't eaten in two days and barely drank anything. I've been bitten by so many insects that my face feels swollen and hot. My feet and hands are torn up and blistered from running and climbing, and when the adrenaline of terror wears off, they're going to hurt like hell.
I pause for a moment, to catch my breath. I want to lean against the nearest tree, but I'm afraid I'll leave a scent marker there, so I just crouch low in the dirt and hug my knees, letting exhaustion move over me in a wave. I'm so tired. I just want to lie down and sleep, but that'll be death. I have to keep moving. When they catch me, I want them to at least work up a fucking sweat. I want to make them work for it. I'm not going to die without a fight.
At least Crulden is free. At least he got away.
It's funny. In the initial days of his loss, when they sent me back to the kitchens, I thought it would hurt more. I thought I'd be bitter and unhappy that I'd been left behind. That he got away and I didn't. I kept waiting for the jealousy to kick in, but it never did. I think of him, enjoying life out on some other planet, maybe riding around on a spaceship or sleeping out under the stars and it makes me…happy. I want that for him. I want him to have a life of freedom. And if I can't have it, I'm thrilled that he can.
There's no bitterness in me, only a quiet joy that he's free. I hope he remembers me in a good way, and not how we left one another. I hope he eventually realizes that I said those hurtful things so he'd leave and start a new life. I hope he thinks of me with affection and not anger. I hope—
A twig breaks somewhere in the forest.
Fuck.
Tension ripples down my spine, sending chills through my body. Even though I'm exhausted, I force myself to get up. To start running again.
I have half a day's lead on the six gladiators hunting me. Six brutal beasts who have some of my clothing to track my scent. Six monsters who have been given carte blanche to do as they like with me if they catch me.
When they catch me.
