The Hunting: Ch 11

Instructions

TW: Blood, harrassment Amber is running for her life, the hunters close behind. They had taken her away from the lodge and released her in the forest. She has to get out of here before she’s shot. Amber sees a huge tree in front of her and leaps for the nearest branch- Then a net shoots out of nowhere and ensnares her. Amber struggles wildly as the men close in. One of them aims his rifle. “Wait, now,” the tallest of the hunters says. “You can’t kill her, not yet. The Hunting is in two days. Dawkins would be furious.” “Fine,” The man grunts, taking out a long knife and cutting her free from the net. Amber springs forward, but someone tackles her and ties her hands behind her back. The man who had almost shot her laughs. “Don’t worry, kitty cat, we’ll make a tame beast out of you.” Amber responds by sinking her teeth into his bare ankle. The man screams, blood spurting from the wound. “She bit me!” They drag her back to the camp. It’s composed of wooden cabins and tents. Hunters are everywhere. In the center of it all is only a modern-looking building, which stands out like a sore thumb. It’s a square block of metal, more than five stories high. Amber snarls nervously as they approach the double doors. “Dawkins!” The tall hunter yells. A tall lanky man seated behind a large quartz desk stands up. His features are sharp, like a hawk’s. “What is it, Clark?” “This...creature bit Morris on the ankle.” “I see.” Dawkins sighs, examining Amber like a bug. “Let me guess: You were hunting her.” “We weren’t going to kill her,” Morris whimpers. “Just have some fun…” “Nevertheless, she felt threatened and retaliated. Be more careful next time.” “Yes, sir,” Clark mumbles. “But I want her punished.” “Wait a second,” Dawkins says. “What’s your name, beast? You can speak, can’t you?” “I’m not a beast, and my name is Amber,” she growls. Dawkins chuckles. “Well, Amber, I guess you need to learn the house rules. You disobey, you get punished.” He turns to the men. “The stake. Two hours. And use a chain-she’ll gnaw through the rope if you give her long enough.” Clark cackles. “Will do, sir.” The men drag Amber to a tall oak pole outside of the building. Multiple chains are bolted into the wood. Clark snaps them onto her wrists and neck. “Enjoy the two hours, beast,” one of them calls. Amber snarls and lunges, but the chain wrenches her head back painfully. She’s trapped. Amber curls into a ball, completely and utterly helpless.