Peter

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Scout bullets ricochet off the log walls of the trader's shop between the shooters and my position, narrowly missing my face

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Scout bullets ricochet off the log walls of the trader's shop between the shooters and my position, narrowly missing my face. I duck, covering my head and crouching low in the snow. When the gunfire pauses, I lean out from cover to fire back at the Scouts, but the wind drives freezing flakes into my face and makes it difficult to aim.

"Filthy buggers," I shout. Beside me, Felix yanks me back by the collar of my fur coat.

"Keep your bloody head down!" He orders, peering up at the Glass City hovering overhead to make sure no more hovercrafts are coming.

I fire off another shot, then duck back down behind our meager cover of the rust-pitted steel wagon that leans against the back wall of the butcher's shop—a squat building made of mismatched lengths of weather-grayed wood. "You bastards are messin' with the wrong brothers!"

"Ah, language." Felix backhands my shoulder before leaning around the edge of the wagon and firing his pistol. The Scouts dive behind the opposite corner of the building.

The people of Colfer are hiding inside, like they always do.

A bullet whizzes past my ear, and I duck further down, my heart pounding. There's got to be only two or three of them, but there are so many bullets it's hard to tell for sure. "Bloody hell! They just keep shootin'."

My brother hits me again. "Watch your language!"

"Are you really givin' me crap about that now?"

"Well ya weren't cursin' earlier!"

"I wasn't gettin' shot at earlier!" I crawl toward the butcher's shop and peek around the corner. The village of Colfer is more like a disorderly cluster of buildings than a proper village; a couple shops and a bunch of houses, mostly belonging to hunters.

A Scout breaks cover, firing repeatedly at the spot I just crawled from. I slide down the wall and press my shoulder against the wood, leaning around the corner. Taking aim, I send a bullet through his skull. I drop back behind cover at the same time he hits the ground.

Felix's eyebrows go up. "Nice shot."

I feel sick every time I have to take one of these guys out. My brother and I are hunters, but these are people, not animals. Or at least they're supposed to be. The sound of gunfire ceases, and Felix and I both peer around our cover in time to see the remaining Scout disappear between the trader's shop and the old hunter's home with the boarded up windows.

"The last one's on the run."

Felix huffs a sigh, his dark red hair plastered to his forehead with sweat and melted snow. "We'll have to chase him down. He'll bring more."

I rub my eye. "I wish we could just go back to huntin' animals."

"Don't we all?" Felix reloads his gun before starting after the Scout at a jog, stumbling through the snow. My chest feels heavy, and I follow after him without another word.

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⏰ Last updated: Mar 02, 2017 ⏰

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