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Anya Corazon: The Perfect Hunt (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2021-10-13 20:52:34 +0000 UTCEver meet someone who you hate but just won’t leave you alone? Someone who doesn’t just try to humiliate you when you have class together, actually waits for you outside of class, or at your locker, or at the lunchroom with something nasty to say or do to you? It’s like they have a grudge against you just for existing and have to pay you back?
Well, if you have, I’ll see your personal high school nemesis and raise you a crazy Russian with tons of gadgets, way too much time and money, and an obsession with literally mounting your head on a wall.
Hugging my back to a marble pillar the size of an 18-wheeler balanced on its front bumper, I stayed as still as I could, trying to listen for the sounds of said crazy Russian coming closer. It wasn’t super easy, with all the screaming and swarming of panicked museum patrons trying to escape, but that was kind of the point. If I couldn’t hear her, she couldn’t hear me. And I needed a breather.
Panting, breasts heaving in my black and white spider spandex, I thumped my head against the pillar, letting it support me. The marble felt cool and I closed my eyes for a minute, allowing myself an instant of relaxation. It didn’t matter that people were screaming all around me, I was so tired I could have dozed right there. In fact, I would have loved that; it had been two days since I’d slept.
I should have known better. I’d only closed my eyes for a second when something exploded beside my head, stinging my cheek with chips of flying marble. I cried out in surprise and ducked my head.
As a rule, loud bangs and the destruction of property makes panicky people panic more, so everyone within ten feet of me performed my reaction on steroids. They screamed, scattered in all directions, knocked each other over, or dove for cover.
“Come on!” I cried out, firing a web line and swinging across the museum’s lobby.
So much for my “I can’t see her, she can’t see me” theory. How did she keep finding me?
Remember how I said I hadn’t slept in two days? That’s because everywhere I went, she showed up. No matter if I was on the top of the Empire State building or in the maintenance tunnel of a subway, if I stayed in one place for long, she appeared. It didn’t matter even matter if I was Spider-Girl or Anya Corazon, she tracked me down. I didn’t dare go back to my apartment and lead her to my home, so I’d just been running from one place to another, trying to figure out how she always turned up.
I flew over the reception desk and a labyrinth of velvet ropes, most of which had been knocked over in the stampede of panicked civilians. Maybe running into the Museum of Natural History wasn’t the most heroic option I could have taken, but I was running out of options. This psycho clearly wasn’t going to stop until I stopped her, but for crap’s sake, I at least needed to fight her on equal footing. So far, every time in the last few days, she’d had the drop on me. It was getting ridiculously old.
Something whizzed by my ear and a banner announcing the Cro-Magnons exhibit burst apart and fell in burning streamers.
“Gah!” I cried out and fired another web line to change directions, letting my swing take me low so I grazed the marble floor.
See what I mean? I couldn’t even see her, and she was still taking pot shots.
I knew the Museum of Natural History decently well. I wasn’t exactly a regular, but it was the go-to field trip spot for my school every year since second grade. With everyone fleeing to the exits, I’d never seen it this empty and it made it easier to make my way through the wide halls and exhibits.
I hadn’t run in here for no reason. The museum was five floors and a maze of halls, antechambers, small theaters, and thousands of places to hide. Even if she knew the exact room or chamber I was in, it would take her time to find me. Time where I could catch my breath and maybe get the drop on her for a change.
I swung, scampered, and wall-ran my way down the museum’s colorful corridors. It’s not as easy as it looks, especially when you’re dead tired, but I had to keep moving, and not in a straight line either. I doubled back a couple of times, changed direction as much as I could, even ran on the ceiling sometimes to make my trail as confusing as possible.
Finally, I got to the whales exhibit and bound my way to the ceiling, where a life-sized mural of a sperm whale looked down on the various smaller displays and information kiosks. It was a tight fit (my butt in particular) but I manage to wriggled my way between the mural and the ceiling, resting on my tummy. I got all the way in, made sure I was nice and hidden, then poked my head out just enough so that I could watch.
It was still a tight fit and it didn’t make it the easiest to breathe, but at least it allowed me to rest. My body was shaking slightly with fatigue and just being allowed to stay still felt incredibly good. Plus, I was high up enough that I could see the entire room without moving my head, and if she came in here, she wouldn’t see me unless she looked straight up.
With only my hair and the eyes of my mask poking out past the edge of the mural, I grinned to myself.
Let’s see that Eurotrash skank ambush me now.
Panting, I crept my fingers over the edge of the mural, like a cartoon kitty cat, ready to pull myself free when she showed up. From up here everything looked like doll house miniatures, peaceful and quiet. A little too peaceful and quiet, because even with my heart pounding and adrenaline spiking from anticipation, my eyelids started to droop. If I had to wait here for too long, I’d probably fall asleep.
It was kinda lucky it didn’t take her that long to follow me.
When there’s only one other person in a museum, it’s hard to miss them when they come into a room. Her were inaudible as she strutted down the carpeted hallway but echoed when she stepped onto the tile floor of the chamber. The top of her bleached blonde head stood out like a firefly in a dark room, her silver crossbow glittering where she rested it on her shoulder.
Ana Kravinoff. Daughter of the original Kraven the Hunter, Ana’s obsession with hunting me was part birthright, part family issues, and partly the fact that she’s an arrogant, hypercompetitive bitch of the first order. She and her family had come after me and the other spiders (Spider-Man, Spider-Woman, etc) and she hadn’t liked it when I kicked her ass.
Which was fine by me. I hope it hurt.
Even from like 50 feet up, her snootiness stank to high heaven. She swaggered in and looked around like she was window shopping, taking her time and not planning to buy anything. If she wasn’t decked out in expensive leather and covered in weapons, you would have thought she was some prissy wannabe décor expert.
She strolled into the center of the room, kicked her foot out and paused. She held it there a moment, making up her mind, then turned lazily on her heel and continued in the opposite direction.
I dragged my way out from behind the mural, sticking my hands to the ceiling then pulling with my arms.
“So, you’ve finally chosen your ground, lisitsa.” Ana called, “You know what this word means? Lisitsa?”
The space between the mural and the ceiling was still pretty tight. I pulled my way out but had to wiggle my hips and push with my legs to squeeze my butt through. It was harder getting out than in, particularly when I had to be as still and quiet as possible.
I bit my lip and blushed, really hoping she wouldn’t look up. It would be the most humiliating thing ever if she spotted me while I was trying to shimmy my rear end out of my hiding place.
“It means girl fox,” Ana continued to strut around the exhibit floor, “Or she-fox, if you like. It fits you better than spider. You do not behave as a spider does.”
Once I got my… most protruding places through, I planted my feet and crab walked until I was well away from the mural. Sitting on the ceiling, facing downwards, I kept my eyes on girl Kraven. I just needed her to stand in the right place.
“A spider is emotionless and patient, noble in that way,” she said, “You are not. You are skittish. You are noisy. You run, you hide. You are fearful and have a small heart. A spider is a hunter. You are prey.”
I bobbled my head and flapped my jaw, doing my best impersonation of a ventriloquist dummy. Her batteries must have run on pure bitchness; it was the only explanation for why she had the energy to keep yapping. She’d been chasing me just as long as I’d been running from her.
“But do not worry, lisitsa,” she turned again, “The hunt will soon be over. And your fear will be so too.”
She had that right, at least. She was right where I wanted her.
I released the ceiling and dropped straight down about a dozen feet behind her. With my spider strength, I could have easily stuck the landing then fly kicked her in the chest when she turned around, but I didn’t want her to have any idea I was coming. I let myself fall as far as I could, building my momentum, then fired a web line and turned the fall into a swing.
Spider-Man would have been able to explain the physics of it. Like, how I was turning the energy of my fall into swing energy, which increased my force, or something. All I knew was that I was coming at Ana really fast and when I got to her, I was going to kick out both legs as hard as I could. I was going to try to kick her through a plexiglass display of whale skulls about ten yards away, but if she fell a little short, I’d get over it.
I flew at her completely silently, my ponytail pulling at my scalp.
But at the last second, she darted out of my path. Not only that, but she tossed something into the air and I swung right into it. It burst in a cloud of red dust, stinging my throat and caking the big, white lenses of my mask.
“G-ACK--!”
I tried to cry out in surprise, but I found myself choked. Blinded, I let go of my web line, trying to ditch my swing and tumble to a stop on the floor.
Unfortunately, I was going a little too fast. I slammed into the plexiglass display with a crunch that I hoped was the display and not my bones, then flopped to the floor in a heap.
Dazed, disoriented, it took me a second to realize how much that had hurt. The wind had been knocked out of me, throbbing pain squeezed my ribs, shoulder, and head, and whatever was in that powder burned like I had drunk battery acid. I felt like I could barely move.
Come on! Get up, Anya!
I would have had a lot harder time getting up if I didn’t have my spider cling powers. I planted my hand on the plexiglass and used that as an anchor to pull myself up, leaning into the display for support. I was coughing, the type where you cough as hard as you can, suck in a deep breath, only to cough it out even harder, and I didn’t have that much breath left to put into it. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t even hear Ana coming towards me over the sound of my own hacking.
I did hear when she started talking again. Of course.
“Not an unclever attempt, my fox,” she taunted, “But I’ve known where you were from the beginning. You leave a trail like a bleeding doe.”
Amongst all the pains I had at that moment, the burning humiliation when I realized I’d been tricked into tarzan-swinging into a stationary object was low on the list. It still hurt though.
I tried to steady myself and turn towards where I thought she was, scrubbing at my mask lenses with my forearm. It didn’t help much; I was still doubled over from coughing and even once the lenses were clean, my eyes were so watery I could barely see her anyway. Definitely not enough to get away from her.
My spider sense buzzed a warning to me, just before her fist smashed into my chin, whipping my head back.
She was an in shape teenage girl, not super strong like me, but she knew how and where to punch. The first shot jarred my thoughts away for a second and she connected with another to the side of my jaw before I could even count the pretty birdies.
I fell back into the display, still clinging to it with one hand and slouched awkwardly. I definitely would have fallen on my butt if it hadn’t been there and even still I was threatening to slip down it to the floor, barely able to stay upright.
In hindsight, it would have been better if I’d let myself fall down. Instead, I made a perfect target for Ana to throw a knee with everything she had into my solar plexus.
That did it. If you’ve ever had all the air knocked out of you before, you know there’s nothing you can do but drop like a rock. All the oxygen rushes from your lungs and your body clenches in shock, your muscles cramp, your eyes bug out, and then a second later you just crumple. I don’t care if you’re a superhero or a professional video game player, you don’t have a choice; you’re going down.
I melted down to the floor, falling to my knees, then forward. I tried to catch myself but my arms buckled and I fell onto my face. I lay there on my cheek, my guts twisting, still coughing and hacking into the floor.
“For all your power, you are undisciplined,” Ana told me, “Untrained, while I am the epitome of both. That is what makes me the hunter.”
It wasn’t lost on me that with my head on the floor and knees underneath me, my butt was sticking up like the statue of liberty. My shiny black spandex probably made the peach shape stand out like a pair of bowling balls pressed together and I wasn’t in a hurry to stay that way.
Still coughing and wheezing I started pushing myself back up.
Ana let me. She was too busy talking to finish me off.
“And that is what makes this a great hunt. You, the prey, have every advantage. Far greater strength, speed, agility, stamina, and recuperative abilities. Yet I will still defeat you.”
I staggered back to my feet, tottering back before I caught my balance.
Ana stood several paces away, watching me. Her skin was as pale and smooth as porcelain, made even more reminiscent by the fact that she rarely made a facial expression, coldly superior at all times. She spiked her bleached hair up and shaved it on the sides but had a long ponytail that fell down her back, her hard, lithe body clad in dull browns and blacks of leather body armor. In contrast to her austere clothing scheme, her eyes were lined with vibrant reds, blues, and greens, a bright splash of color that drew attention to her intense, icy blue eyes.
I still felt like I had a bug in my throat and my arms and legs felt like lead. I needed a second to recover.
“Y-yeah?” I coughed, hoping to buy some time, “How’d… that work out last… time?”
Her hands went to the leather belt at her waist and picked out what looked like a wooden baton with a slender braid of leather wrapped around it. I noticed she didn’t have the crossbow; she’d set it on a nearby display while I’d been trying to get up.
She unwound the rope from the baton and a rock dropped and dangled from the end of the leather rope, weighing it down. The whole thing looked like it had been hand-made, probably by Ana herself.
She took the baton in one hand, the rope in the other, then began whirling the rock around like a lasso.
“Last time, my approach was wrong,” a tiny smile pulled at one side of her lips, “I hunted you as a spider. But you are not.”
Suddenly she let the rock go and it shot forward, smacking me right between the eyes with a hollow “thunk”.
“AAH!” my head whipped back and I staggered, more surprised than hurt.
Not to say it didn’t hurt. It stung like crazy, all the way down the bridge of my nose. In fact, I gasped a couple of words you shouldn’t say around children.
“Now I will show you what you truly are,” she hissed, “Lisitsa.”
Then she kicked me in the chest.
It knocked me flat on my butt, but I didn’t stay there for long.
I was tired, frustrated, embarrassed, and though I hated to admit it, a little bit of fear only made me more of all those things. The smack between my eyes hurt like stubbing my toe or getting my wrist slapped with a ruler. It smarted and it pissed me off.
If I wasn’t already going to tear her a new one, Ana’s expression cinched it. She noticed my anger instantly and her knowing smirk pursed, tart and taunting.
Oh, this bitch was gonna get it. I was going to take that little stick of hers and…
I pushed myself back up, ignoring my aching muscles.
“Gonna wish,” I snarled, “You brought more firepower, psycho!”
She narrowed her eyes, waved me on, and I threw myself at her.
The beginning of the fight was a blur. I was tired and it was hard to keep moving, which just added to the tunnel vision that came with being furious. I remember swinging at her (a lot), shooting webs at her, jumping at her, but she always stayed just out of my reach. She didn’t even attack back at first, she just kept moving out of the way.
That just pissed me off even more. My lungs were burning, my body quaking and tightening up, but I kept going after her. I caught her with a glancing shot once or twice and that kept me going, egging me on. All I had to do was tag her once, after all. If I got her good, she’d be the one running for her life.
I don’t know how long it lasted. It felt like half an hour, but a couple of minutes can feel like a long time when you’re working yourself to exhaustion. I do know that eventually, I threw a punch and was a little too slow in recovering afterwards. This time instead of dancing away, she hit me right in the ribs with that wooden baton of hers.
I grunted and staggered a step. I was already so winded that the body blow felt like it sucked out part of my soul.
The last thing I wanted to do was let her build momentum, so I tried to get her back with another punch. This time she ducked aside and gave me another hard rap with the baton, just behind the elbow, striking the nerves. It hurt like crazy and sent pins and needles down to my fingertips.
That’s when she started talking again.
“Do you know how to hunt fox?” she asked, like the question had suddenly popped to her mind.
I was so tired I barely understood what she said. Sucking in deep gasps of air I retreated, just a pace. I only needed a second to collect myself.
She didn’t let me have it. The instant I retreated, the weight at the end of the leather rope looped around my ankle, then she pulled it towards her, out from under me. Forced into an awkward lunge, I staggered forward and waved my arms, most of my weight on my front leg. While I was still trying to recover my balance, she kicked me hard in my braced thigh, right where the muscles met at the side.
Pain shot up my leg and the blow spun me around, turning me away from her. I couldn’t spare the breath to cry out. I simply had to try to push myself back to my feet and not limp, though my leg had stiffened up like a plank of wood.
“When the fox hears the dogs, she will run,” Ana continued, “She is quick, small, agile, and good at hiding. But you must not let her hide, you must keep her running.”
What the hell was she talking about?!
I spun around and fired a glob of web, hoping to hit her in her big mouth.
She wasn’t there. She was standing just beside me, where she could grab my wrist and twisted it around in a violent, martial arts throw.
I landed hard on my back, bouncing from the impact, too tired to roll with or otherwise soften the landing.
“The fox cannot help but to run,” Ana began winding the leather rope back around the baton, “You must never lose her for as long as you chase, she will run. There’s nothing else she can do, and you must not let her rest.”
Gasping for air like a fish out of water, I tried to roll over, but I didn’t have the strength. I got partway, then flopped onto my back with a groan. I had to lay still for a few seconds, breasts heaving the white spider insignia on my chest, before I could try again. After the rest, I started to get up, but it was achingly slow.
At that point, my anger fizzled. I was in serious trouble.
“A good hunter will run her until she is not so quick, not so agile, then finish it,” Ana stepped closer, looming over me, “But a great hunter can do more…”
She tucked her weapon back into her belt and gave it a pat. It had done its duty and now it could rest.
Get up… come on, get up!
I urged my body on, but there was no hurrying it. It was all I could do to get my shaky limbs to push me upright. I was coming up facing away from her, but even turning around was beyond my capabilities at that moment.
Ana grabbed me by the ponytail and yanked me up the rest of the way. Then she used it to hold me still while she hammered a punch into my kidney.
I gagged, my legs trying to buckle again, but she held me upright.
“A true master will run the fox until she is empty,” Ana drove another punch into my lower back, “She will run all the strength and spirit from the fox. Even though she could end it at any time, she will not.”
In sheer desperation, I whirled and swung my arm at her. I had to get her away, make her stop.
She ducked my swing with a disdainful smirk, then hit me in the throat with her open palm.
“In a way, the fox decides when the hunt ends. She will decide when she can run no more and then… a wonderful thing happens.”
Gagging and clutching my throat, I tried to retreat, but I was so exhausted I stumbled. I never managed to catch my balance; I stumbled backwards until I tripped over the base of an information kiosk, then fell onto my back.
“The fox lies down,” Ana’s voice was deceptively soft, “And she accepts her fate.”
I rested flat on my back for a second, chest heaving. It felt like I would never catch my breath, that no matter how hard I tried, I’d never fill my lungs. Even the idea of getting up hurt. I really, really wanted to stay right there on the floor and close my eyes.
She’d played me. I thought I was leading her into a trap, but she had been waiting for me. I’d let her play with me like a bull fighter, used up all my strength. Now my anger was gone, replaced with desperation… and a hunk of icy fear in my gut. Something about the glint in her eye and the softness of her voice scared the shit out of me.
I had to get up. I wasn’t even thinking about fighting her, I just had to get away from this crazy bitch.
I rolled over with a groan. Trembling, straining, I tried to climb to all fours.
Ana kept talking in that gentle, creepy voice.
“It’s the perfect hunt. All the actors know their parts. When it ends, the prey knows they are game, a trophy, a symbol of the hunter’s greatness.”
I pushed up, fell, and landed on my face. With a whimper of effort, I tried again.
“If the hunt is a play, then the master hunter is its writer and director. She knows how every act will play out. She knows when the curtain closes.”
I managed to get to all fours, righted myself. As soon as my feet were under me, I tried to run, but it was more of a clumsy shamble. I looked like I was playing a werewolf, hunched over and panting, swinging my arms, staggering side to side almost more than I was going forwards. As tough and strong as I was, the lack of sleep, sheer exhaustion, and blows to my head made every step feel like my legs would buckle. The fact that I was running from Ana Kravinoff in fear never really crossed my mind, I was just desperate to escape.
I’ll be honest. I think why I was so desperate is because part of me knew I was screwed.
“The truly masterful fox hunter never even needs to fire her rifle,” Ana’s voice came from behind me, “She can simply pursue until the lisitsa is finished, then pick her up from the ground. Like a pretty scarf someone left behind.”
I didn’t know where I was running, just away from her. Had to escape.
Running wasn’t going to work either. Any second I expected an arrow or knife to hit me in the back. I needed to get airborne, move faster. I needed to swing.
My arm was so heavy I could barely lift it and aiming my webshooter was almost impossible while running. It took so much focus to keep my legs moving, doing something else at the same time was super hard, never mind that my arm was waving around and shaking.
Before I had a chance to try, my spider sense buzzed, and something stung me in my outstretched shoulder.
I didn’t have enough wind to cry out, so I just sort of gasped and grabbed at my arm. The distraction tripped me up and I fell, my knee banging into the floor.
Ana strolled towards me, leisurely and slow.
“The time for running is over now, lisista.”
My shoulder throbbed for a second, but it was gradually replaced by a cool numbness. A feathered dart was sticking out of my shoulder, small but obviously poisoned. The numbness was spreading down my arm, to my tingling fingertips, like I’d lost circulation.
I didn’t bother pulling the dart out, I just shoved myself to my feet and continued trying to run. After a few clumsy steps, that arm was hanging limp, flopping around like a wet noodle. I couldn’t feel it at all.
“It is time for the hunt to end.”
It was even harder running with only one arm. I was leaning towards that side, gasping, stumbling, tripping, unable to balance myself. It weighed me down, banging against my side as I ran, its weight pushing down on my chest and stifling my breath.
By the time I was out of the whale exhibit, I didn’t know how I was going to make it to the end of the next room. I was already slowing down, legs aching and buckling, and I had to fight for each deep, rasping breath. The far door seemed miles away and I was going so, so slow.
I never found out if I would have made it or not. I barely got five steps into the museum’s next chamber before another dart hit me, this time behind my knee.
I’m a superhero. I have SHIELD training, not to mention a sort of apprenticeship under Ms Marvel, and I’ve got superpowers that make me kind of a bad ass. Even before I got the powers, I’d always been kind of tough, playing rough sports, not afraid of getting dirty or bloodying my nose. I wasn’t some wilting daisy.
But by the little cry I let out when my legs crumpled beneath me, you would have thought so.
I less fell than sank down as I moved forward, my good leg crumpling before I slid to the floor on my stomach. The dart was in the opposite leg from my paralyzed arm and already I could feel the numbness spreading down to my toes. Now I was not only completely smoked, but in a few seconds, I knew I’d only have one arm and one leg to work with.
There was no way I was even getting to the end of the room now, not if you gave me all day.
Ana didn’t say anything this time; she didn’t need to. Her footsteps clacked off the floor, slowly, slowly drawing closer.
I wanted to cry. I would have if I’d had the energy. Instead, I tried to crawl.
I know it was stupid, a waste of time, even a little pathetic. Maybe I should have somberly accepted defeat right then, but you try being dignified when you’re helpless, terrified, and can hear Ana freaking Kravinoff slowly catching up with you. No matter how hopeless it was, I had to do something.
I tried to push up with my good arm and get my legs underneath me. One of my legs was now completely paralyzed, so the best version of “all fours” I could get to was two and a half. I wobbled, panting, shaking like a leaf. I pulled my good leg in towards my chest, dragging my knee across the floor, then tried to reach out with my hand, a single pace forward.
My arm buckled and I fell back to my chest with a gasp. It hadn’t been a matter of effort, the muscles in my shoulder and bicep had given out, their weight limit exceeded. I didn’t think I could get up again.
Ana’s footsteps kept coming. Other than my ragged whimpers and panting, they were the only sounds in the room. They were even slower now, farther apart, but they still consistently grew louder, closer. She was dawdling, taking her time, letting me struggle. She knew I wasn’t going to escape her.
No. No, I had to move. I had to get away. Couldn’t let her…
With a moan of effort, I reached out grabbing at the floor, then pulled, trying to drag myself on my belly. I pushed with my good leg, but my other two limbs were dead weight, just adding extra drag. I managed to drag myself a few inches, then reached out and did it again.
She wasn’t going to win. I couldn’t let her get me. I had to crawl…
I pulled but it was like I was glued to the floor. I barely got an inch before I had to stop and reach out again, trying to get more leverage. This time I pulled, and I’m not even sure I moved at all.
Ana drew closer, almost on top of me.
I pulled, squirming on my belly.
I had to move. Had to get… get… get to…
And then I stopped. I just stopped.
Get where? Seriously, get where? Another inch away? What then?
I whimpered, lowering my head to the ground.
Reality crashed down on me. I’d lost. I was at Ana’s mercy. Any chance I’d had, if I ever had one, was gone. She’d worn me down and finished me.
I couldn’t move. Maybe I could have physically dragged my ass another centimeter, but mentally, spiritually I was done. I had nothing left to push me on.
That moment, right then, is when I gave up. I ever so slightly sank to the floor as I let my body surrender to fatigue. A low sob escaped my lips, a mixture of both relief and despair. Ana was coming to get me now.
I was hers.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Then I waited.
Now that I had accepted my defeat, the footsteps were almost soothing as they came closer, like the ticking of a slow palindrome. I relaxed, my panting becoming deep and even.
At last, I could finally catch my breath.
Ana’s footsteps drew closer, just beside me, then stopped. Silence reigned, broken only by my occasional wheeze, then a cough.
I groaned. The cough hurt. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to stop hurting. Was that too much to ask?
The silence went on so long, I almost forgot she was there. Then she drew in a deep breath and released it with a long, hearty sigh. It sounded like someone who had been starving for years, finally having a full belly.
“Ahhh…” her voice was soft, almost a whisper, “The perfect hunt.”
That was it, then. I expected at any second an arrow was going to punch into my brain. Or maybe she’d pull a spear, give me a final taunt about how excellent I would look mounted on her wall, then stab me in the heart. I knew something like that was about to happen, but I stayed as relaxed as ever. I’d had enough. I just hoped it wouldn’t hurt for too long.
When she sank down, kneeling beside me, I still expected she’d pull a knife or something, maybe slit my throat. I didn’t expect her to stroke her fingers through my hair.
“Mmmm…” she purred.
Her fingertips dragged themselves through my sweaty brown hair, drawing soothing paths down my scalp. She stroked along my head until she reached my ponytail, then drew back and began again.
It felt wonderful. I was worried for a split second that she was just doing this to calm me so she could yank my head up and drag a knife across my throat, but it didn’t really matter. I was in her hands now. After all this, I was ready to lean into any kind of pleasure or relief I could find.
Some tension released from my chest in a shuddering, gentle sigh.
Ana sighed as well, sounding pleased. She leaned down, whispering into my ear.
“Do you see now why you are like the fox?”
Comments
William Rawls
Although this comment should have been put in part 2
Thank you!
William Rawls
Loved the skinning well written and evocative
