Prender
Little Ghost
Cress cursed beneath her breath, kneeling beneath a tree and tearing a strip off one of the extra shirts she'd brought with her when she ran. Blood was pouring down her leg from a large cut on her outer thigh, and to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure where the cut had come from. She supposed she must have snagged it on a branch or something when she'd been running earlier that day, but couldn't say for sure. Either way, it was bad, and she probably shouldn't leave it exposed for any longer. The last thing she needed was for it to get infected, so she tied the strip of fabric tightly around the wound, wrapping it around her leg a few times before securing it. It was a shame that she'd had to use a piece of one of her new shirts, though. Considering the only clothes the people at the facility gave them were faded green tunics, she hadn't had much, and was afraid of how much she'd stand out in it compared to the way other teenagers she saw dressed. Thankfully, some vintage clothing store had been ecstatic about the tunics for whatever reason, so she'd sold them, and bought herself new clothes and food. Admittedly, she still didn't blend in as much as she wanted to, but she had to buy the cheapest articles of clothing she could find, so they tended to be odd and somewhat mismatched. Not that she particularly cared what she looked like. If she had, maybe she would have invested in a hair brush.
With a small sigh, the girl got to her feet, frowning at the sight of the blood on her hands. Wiping them absentmindedly on the stomach of her shirt and leaving scarlet smears where she'd touched the fabric. She tightened the messy ponytail she'd drawn her hair back into, hefted her bag up over her shoulder, and continued her trek through the woods. After about fifteen minutes, however, the peace of the silent late night walk was interrupted by a loud thud somewhere to her left. Cress froze, listening carefully, eyes growing wide at the distant sound of footsteps. Without a second thought, Cress took off into the night, heart pounding in her chest. It hurt to breathe and fear was clouding her judgement. She'd come this far, hadn't she? She couldn't let them bring her back. Not now. Not ever. She had no way to know for sure that whoever was pursuing her were the people she had originally ran away from, but she didn't plan on taking the risk that came with finding out. If she stopped to see, and it was them, then she may as well resign herself to a premature death. It was barely an exaggeration, unfortunately, so bad was the punishment she was sure they had planned for her if she ever came back tot he facility. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the thought, and Cress resisted the urge to pinch herself. God, don't cry again, Cress. Suddenly, the trees were gone and she had burst out into a street, headlights nearly blinding her. Cress gasped and instinctively raised her hands, prepared to stop the car from hitting her if it didn't stop in time, but with a squeal and a crash, the car turned into a ditch.
Cress took a few steps back as a stranger climbed out of the car, pausing when his gaze fell on her. It was a man, quite a bit older than she was, and he seemed quite surprised to run into someone like her out here. She supposed that made sense, considering she was a scrawny ass teenage girl out in the middle of nowhere, alone with bruises and dried blood on her face. She looked as much like a runaway as she was, and that wasn't good. Depending on what type of person the man was, this could go very badly. If he was a very good person, he'd no doubt try to bring her to the police, and if he was a very bad person, well, he could try to do something that was far from moral. Of course, she was in no real danger. All it would take was one swift punch and he'd be sent across the street. Cress's gaze flickered to the man's car before looking back to him, twisting the strap of her bag anxiously. "Sorry about the car," she said suddenly, voice high and tense. Feeling like she owed it to him a little bit, she brushed past him and walked over to the car, wrapping her fingers around the rear bumper. She took a deep breath and dragged the car backwards, pulling it out of the ditch with ease that, for anyone else, would have been unnatural. For Cress? A car was nothing. She could lift seven cars over her head with one hand, pulling one out of a ditch with both was nothing.
With a small sigh, the girl got to her feet, frowning at the sight of the blood on her hands. Wiping them absentmindedly on the stomach of her shirt and leaving scarlet smears where she'd touched the fabric. She tightened the messy ponytail she'd drawn her hair back into, hefted her bag up over her shoulder, and continued her trek through the woods. After about fifteen minutes, however, the peace of the silent late night walk was interrupted by a loud thud somewhere to her left. Cress froze, listening carefully, eyes growing wide at the distant sound of footsteps. Without a second thought, Cress took off into the night, heart pounding in her chest. It hurt to breathe and fear was clouding her judgement. She'd come this far, hadn't she? She couldn't let them bring her back. Not now. Not ever. She had no way to know for sure that whoever was pursuing her were the people she had originally ran away from, but she didn't plan on taking the risk that came with finding out. If she stopped to see, and it was them, then she may as well resign herself to a premature death. It was barely an exaggeration, unfortunately, so bad was the punishment she was sure they had planned for her if she ever came back tot he facility. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the thought, and Cress resisted the urge to pinch herself. God, don't cry again, Cress. Suddenly, the trees were gone and she had burst out into a street, headlights nearly blinding her. Cress gasped and instinctively raised her hands, prepared to stop the car from hitting her if it didn't stop in time, but with a squeal and a crash, the car turned into a ditch.
Cress took a few steps back as a stranger climbed out of the car, pausing when his gaze fell on her. It was a man, quite a bit older than she was, and he seemed quite surprised to run into someone like her out here. She supposed that made sense, considering she was a scrawny ass teenage girl out in the middle of nowhere, alone with bruises and dried blood on her face. She looked as much like a runaway as she was, and that wasn't good. Depending on what type of person the man was, this could go very badly. If he was a very good person, he'd no doubt try to bring her to the police, and if he was a very bad person, well, he could try to do something that was far from moral. Of course, she was in no real danger. All it would take was one swift punch and he'd be sent across the street. Cress's gaze flickered to the man's car before looking back to him, twisting the strap of her bag anxiously. "Sorry about the car," she said suddenly, voice high and tense. Feeling like she owed it to him a little bit, she brushed past him and walked over to the car, wrapping her fingers around the rear bumper. She took a deep breath and dragged the car backwards, pulling it out of the ditch with ease that, for anyone else, would have been unnatural. For Cress? A car was nothing. She could lift seven cars over her head with one hand, pulling one out of a ditch with both was nothing.
