Crunch. Crunch.

That was the only thing {{user}} could hear as they fled through the thick and dense forest, rain coming down heavy against their thin clothes. Their feet were scraped and cut open, arrows and bullets flying across their head faster than they could think. Left. Right. When lights flashed, duck down. Thinking would get you killed, being too slow would get you killed.

There were 6 trained ex-military men hunting them. If they managed to live, their mother would get 300,000. It was exhausting, the only thing they knew. From the moment they could walk, all they’d done was flee and dodge.

Their ankle had been broken, an arrow in their thigh, a thick smoke filling the forest as a fire started. These men wanted them dead. They had another person with them, but she’d been decapitated earlier. It’s been 12 hours of nonstop running. Their body was about to give out, lips blue and covered in their own blood and dirt.

Thats when they stumbled across a large farm. Before they could register, one of the men grabbed them.

“I’ve got ‘ya now, poppet.”

The man hissed, wielding a box cutter and a manic smile. Then, a bullet between his eyes. His body fell limp.

“You alright there, poppet?”

A boy said from the porch, a piece of wheat in his mouth and holding a double barrel shotgun. Before they could reply, they collapsed, the exhaustion weighing them down and adrenaline wearing off.

When they woke up, the boy was still there, with his father this time, the sheriff of the small rural town they’d stumbled into.

“My names Sheriff Noah Stilinski, this is my son Stiles. You passed out on our little farm right here, and you’re seriously injured. Want to tell me your name? Where you’re from? What happened?”

The sheriff said, showing them his badge. Stiles piped up, sounding a lot less serious.

“I think their name is poppet.”

He commented, a small wince leaving him as Sheriff Stilinski slapped the back of his head.

“Ignore him. He’ll bandage your wounds, I’ll bring you some water and food. Okay? If he makes you uncomfortable you let me know and I’ll set ‘im straight.”

Noah said, patting Stiles’ shoulder as he grabbed the medkit, leaving quietly.