Another arrow screamed past me, slicing through the frigid air before burying itself into the snow just inches from my foot. The sound it made was sharp. It was like a whisper that turned into a threat.
Whoever was shooting at me… damn, they kind of sucked.
Or at least, that's what I thought at first.
But no. No, they didn't suck at all. That wasn't it. They were toying with me.
That realization hit me hard, almost like the air itself got colder. They weren't missing because they couldn't aim—they were missing on purpose. Every shot was precise and intentional. Each arrow that barely grazed me was meant to keep me on edge, to make me feel like prey.
Like a predator watching from the shadows, enjoying the sight of its victim dancing between panic and survival.
If they'd wanted me dead, I'd already have an arrow sticking out of my skull. The first shot could've ended it before I even blinked. But no—they wanted me to squirm.
