Free The Prophet's Daughter by Kilayla Pilon

his arm to his side. Wide eyed, the both o f us pivoted to see Seth’s hand clenching into a fist, a low groan escaping his mouth.
    “Dad?” whispered Isaac, taking a step towards his father. My heart fluttered with excitement and I followed him. In response to the soft whisper the boy had emitted, Seth shot up fast, eyes snapping open. Jumper let out a screech of fury, skittering backwards, back arched and fur bristling.
    “Seth,” I began, reaching towards him. “You can’t move so fast, you’ll tear your wounds open aga in.” Isaac and I shared a glance, both of us stepping towards the man, preparing to lower him onto his back. However, as each of our gazes moved to look into the unfocused, bloodshot eyes of the wounded man, it was obvious that something was amiss.
    I peer ed at his side, cringing. His abdominal wound had begun to bleed again and the soiled bandage had become useless, the crusted brown blood being overcome by a flow of crimson. There was nothing I could do, not if he had reopened the gash in his stomach; he had lost too much blood as it was and the chances of him surviving had been slim enough before.
    Seth turned to me and narrowed his eyes, a low guttural growl emanating from deep within him. He stretched his mouth open, releasing a horrid, ear-splitting scream that held a rage that had never before pierced my ears. He lunged towards the two of us, becoming entangled in the plastic wrapping that had been above him. Howls of rage echoed throughout the air and he began thrashing in desperation to remove the plastic encasement, blood smearing against the tarp.
    “Isaac! Get your gun!” I cried, turning to stare at the wide eyed boy who stared in horror at the man before us. “Isaac!” His gaze shifted at me, then back to his father, mouth agape as he stared. He blink ed, taking a step towards me, before he shot off towards his tent, stumbling along the way.
    Please find it, please, I begged, turning back to Seth. I cried out in surprise as he lumbered towards me, the plastic covering smeared with blood and tossed to the ground. Jumper let out a wail of terror and took off like a lightning bolt into my tent. I didn’t have enough time to take in everything that was going on, for within a moment the man was lunging at me, his weight shoving me towards the ground.
    We both s macked against the ground, a loud thump echoing. All of the air within my seemed to leave within a moment and I lay against the ground, gasping for breath. Seth lay on top of me, ragged breathing hot against my face.  I pressed my fists against his chest, closing my eyes as I felt his hands grasping for my hair, and shoved – to no avail. He was in too strong of a rage to focus on what he was doing and far too heavy for me to shove on my own.
    Panic tore through me like a tidal wave, my breath catching in my lungs, every part of my growing limp. I looked around me, trying to see Isaac or anything that I could use to help me out of the situation I was in – but there was nothing, no weapons, nothing. A pinching pain stung in my stomach and I swallowed the overwhelming urge to vomit tingling in every vein in my body.
    “Isaac!” I screamed, squirming and pressing my legs against Seth’s abdomen and pushing. I couldn’t get him off me – he was far too big and stood at least half a foot taller than I did, and he was half a dead weight, trying to crawl off of me himself to no avail. Blood oozed from his wound, coating my leg – I could feel my foot sinking in to the gaping lesion, the warmth of his body obvious. I felt bile rise to my throat, swallowing hard to keep myself from vomiting. I had to get him off me.
    Bang. Bang. Bang.
    Three gun shots rang out and the flailing, growling man on top of me went limp, blood splattering against my face. I froze and screwed my eyes shut, my body tensing in shock, mouth gaping open. I lay; chest heaving, unable to move. I didn’t have the guts to open my eyes until after Seth’s