Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

rifle. And as she continued down the never-ending descent, skirting tree trunks, tripping over rocks and sticks, she wished herself home for the thousandth time. Maybe if she prayed hard enough God would hear her…have mercy and teleport her inside her condo.
    Or the nearest police precinct.
    Definitely. The cop shop was a better choice. At least armed, she stood a chance. But here? Surrounded by forest and frosty air? She gave herself a two-in-ten shot at survival. Bad odds, but she had to try. The second she lost faith, she’d quit…find the prettiest redwood, curl up in a ball underneath it, and die. Or get eaten by a mountain lion.
    And my, oh, my, what a lovely thought. Right up there with getting recaptured by Lothair, only over much quicker, with a lot less brutality.
    Angela ground to a stop at the bottom of the hill. She scanned the terrain, taking cover behind a fallen log. Quivering with fatigue, white puffs of air sawing out of her mouth, she reached out to steady herself. As her hand settled on rotten wood and wet moss, she tilted her head and listened hard. Nothing. No sounds of pursuit, just bursts of birdsong and the creak of tree limbs.
    She checked the sun again, using its position in the sky to gauge the time. An hour—maybe two—before the light faded, and she’d be forced to find shelter for the night.
    “Keep moving…you’re doing all right,” she murmured, adding a rah-rah-rah-go-Angela to the mental mix. “Just keep moving.”
    As the cheerleader inside her head got busy shaking her pom-poms, Angela rubbed her upper arms, wincing with each pass of her battered hands. Not that her fingertips hurt much anymore. Like a gift, numbness had set in, her body throwing out endorphins, easing the scrapes better than a pantry full of ibuprofen. Add that to the adrenaline rush, and…
    Bam. She had a little more fuel in her tank. Enough, maybe, to get her to a highway. A rest stop. Somewhere safe.
    God, she hoped she was headed the right way. Without a compass, she couldn’t be sure, but…yeah, south was the best bet. Civilization lay in that direction. She was almost positive. Wanted to believe it like she wanted her next breath. If she kept running, somewhere along the way she’d see lights through the trees, spot a lone house, run into a small town.
    Which meant break time was over.
    She needed more distance between her and the Razorback bunker. Lothair was a vindictive son of a bitch. No way would he let her go, not after she’d taken a chunk out of his pride and left him for dead. Too bad she hadn’t thought to check. If she’d just taken a couple more seconds…
    But no. She hadn’t finished the job and slit his throat. And she knew—just knew —the lapse in judgment would come back to bite her.
    Her hands curled against the rotten log, pushing moss under her fingernails. She couldn’t think about it. Not about him . Or the fact he’d left her alone all day. It didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t he come after her yet? Was he playing some sort of game?
    Probably. She knew his type. The bastard enjoyed the thrill of the hunt too much to pass up a challenge. Add that to his sadistic nature and…yup. Mystery solved. He’d let her run, hide, play cat to her mouse while she struggled to stay alive. Wait until she was half-frozen, out of gas, too exhausted to fight. And then? He’d hurt her again. Force her to—
    No…no. Don’t go there .
    Angela shook her head, banished the memory. The past was the past, no matter how recent. She must concentrate on the here and now. On the fact she was strong, well trained, and, for the moment, free. No reason to lie down and die. Nothing in God’s playbook said Lothair would win. Or she couldn’t make him pay for hurting her.
    The thought gave her courage. Got her moving, but as her feet obeyed, carrying her around the fallen log, she glanced over her shoulder. The bogeyman was real. And as the creak of tree limbs shivered through the quiet, Angela searched the shadows: looking for dragons, expecting the snatch-and-grab, her heart nothing but an awful throb inside her chest.
    Go. Go. Go .
    She broke into a sprint, racing between tree trunks. As she passed the last one, the ground leveled out. Damp with recent rain, wet leaves slipped beneath her soles, kicking up the scent of decaying earth and old sap. But the rotten smell came with benefits…softer ground cover. Easier on the feet than the pine needles she’d crossed over at higher