𝙉𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙚

Prologue

You must not die.

That is the one and only remaining thought in Anastasia's head as she ran through the thick cover of trees. She had no idea where she was since the darkness creeped rapidly and all her eyes could glimpse were blurry unstable images of branches and leaves whizzing by; her breathing heavy and loud in her ears and her lungs burning to the point of collapse. She could not afford even a split second of rest or distraction. Already the footsteps and frantic shouting of voices were closing in on her. Though unable to see them, she could estimate they would reach her in three to four more minutes if the terrain doesn't grant her an advantage over her pursuers.

The tapestry of dark green and brown was now thinning out and she could -Anastasia dared- hear what sounded like cars speeding by. A road. Her heart beat in her throat, her pace faltering and body giving up on her. The fresh cut on her cheek and busted lip were caked with frozen blood, the bruises on her stomach making their presence known again. A sudden shout in the thick accented language that was her first tongue startled her. Her leg cramped and she tripped over the exposed winding roots of some tree, sending her tumbling and rolling down a little decline, gravel and dirt dug into her sides like pins and needles piercing every inch of her skin. She groaned weakly and forced her lids to part, watching headlights in the distance. She was close to a road. Just one more minute, she needed to run just a few more steps.

"Down there!" Voices shouted from above as she scrambled to her knees, clenching her fists. "Get her!"

Anastasia staggered to her feet, starting a wobbly run with no sensation besides the loud ringing in her ears and bright lights across her blurred vision. She wasn't sure if she were walking, standing still or floating. But she forced herself forward nonetheless.

'Survive this!' She repeated over and over and over again- a loud yelp ripped from her chest as she saw the outline of black SUVs and figures standing on alert, weapons raised. None of this was cause for celebration because the next thing she heard is the sound of two gunshots. The pressure and burn of metal breaching skin and shredding her insides drove her to fall face first into the dirt. More gunshots sounded. More shouting. More pain. At some point she flipped onto her back and stared unblinkingly at the purple and grey sky overhead. It was a beautiful evening for a poetic ending, a bitter cry not making it past her dry and cracked lips. It was so cold. The ground was wet. Anastasia felt nothing, her body weightless, and the only functioning part of her was her eyes that filled with a dark silhouette crouching over her, calling or screaming something she did not care to understand. The silent words withered, incomplete, on her lips. 

"Must... not... die."