The woods were a combination of lofted evergreens, waist-high ferns, and tangled undergrowth. Her steps were uncertain and her balance worse. Behind her, the confident stride of her pursuer pounded steadily. She pushed to beat it, to be faster and lighter on her bare feet, but her body was slower than her will. The trees blotted out all sense of direction, and the undergrowth obliterated the ground beneath. Where she was unsteady on this terrain, her pursuer was at home. With each step, the muscles in her back twisted harder, screamed louder, and warmth began to seep toward her waist.

She pushed faster, trusting that the ground that supported this endless sea of ferns might also support her. For a short while, her luck held, then her foot landed in a small rut and she rolled over a twisted ankle. Her pursuer was on her in a second.

She tumbled and he pounced, grabbing her around the shoulders. Caledonia slipped his grip and spun to face him, lashing out with her fist. She caught him squarely across the jaw. The hit took more from her than it did from him, and she landed firmly on her knees. Spent.

“That was never going to work.” The boy’s hands landed heav-ily on her shoulders, applying enough pressure to hold her in place. “I suggest you return to bed before I have to do it for you.”

Now that she’d stopped moving, pain surged through her back. Her head spun, her lungs twisted, nausea left her mouth viciously hot, and her ankle throbbed with the fresh injury. It wasn’t going to be long before her legs gave out completely.

“I can carry you,” he said, sweeping his eyes along her body. “Though I’d prefer not to.”

“That makes two of us,” Caledonia sneered, still breathing hard as she climbed slowly to her feet. She had no option but to do as he said and he knew it.

The boy crossed his arms and waited for Caledonia to precede him back to camp. The trip seemed to take so much longer than her haphazard flight through the unfamiliar wood. Each step sent a fresh wave of pain singing through her bones, and exhaustion caused her to tremble constantly. She desperately wanted to stop and rest, but if she stopped, that Bullet would make good on his threat to carry her. She willed her legs to hold her up until they reached the tent again and the cot within.

The Bullet stopped just inside the open tent flap as Caledonia settled against the thin mattress. The move cost her in both pain and dignity. She cried out, shivering as the wound in her back wept fresh blood.

“Stupid ideas. Stupid rewards.” The Bullet’s voice was unconcerned and still surprisingly judgmental.

“It’s never a stupid idea to run from a Bullet.” The words came out rough, pressed through the sieve of her pain.

The Bullet grunted. “Don’t run again.”