02

The loud rapids eventually slowed down, carrying me through fields dotted with shrubs, probably about eight kilometers from where I had jumped. If I stayed in the water too long, my skin might peel off. I swam against the current toward the shore, trying not to faint. I had lost so much blood from all my injuries. Finally, I managed to reach the shore and sprawled out on the riverbank to catch my breath.

Slowly, I sat up, my head pounding from blood loss and exhaustion. But it was a pleasant surprise to see that the bullet wound on my shoulder had already closed. The only sign that I had been shot was a twisted red mark on my skin.

So, I healed quickly, which was fantastic. Was that why the hunters wanted me, to study me and steal my power?

I scanned my surroundings again to make sure I was alone in the wilderness and temporarily safe. Then I took a more thorough inventory of myself, specifically the damn arrow still lodged in my thigh.

I slowly moved back to the river until half of my butt was in the water. I grabbed the hem of my nightgown and tore off four long strips to make an improvised bandage. I picked up a twig and put it between my teeth before gripping the shaft of the arrow, which had snapped in two while I was in the churning pool of the waterfall. I yanked the arrow out with all my strength and courage. The sound of flesh tearing filled my ears, but it was quickly drowned out by my screams of agony.

Blood gushed from the irregular wound. My trembling hands grabbed the strips of cloth and wrapped them tightly around the cut. I groaned in pain, telling myself I had to get through this nightmare, even if it was just to figure out who I was and where I came from.

I spit out the twig and washed the remaining blood off my skin. With what little strength I had left, I crawled through a grassy field, shaking uncontrollably. The moon had disappeared, leaving me in total darkness, and the breeze grew colder.

Not far ahead, I found a place to hide. I crawled toward the large bush, smoothed its woody stems, and curled up like a ball in the patch of grass and soil. Then I tried to make sense of what had happened.

Did I have a name? I tried to remember, but my memory failed me. Then I focused on the people hunting me. Who were they, and why did they want me dead?

When I couldn’t find an answer to those questions either, I cried until there was nothing left. The release didn’t erase my fatigue, pain, hunger, and apprehension, but I felt a little better after letting it out.

I had escaped, and that was a great victory. This small comfort calmed me as I fell asleep, hoping for a better tomorrow.

Very early, a ray of sunlight spilled onto my face. My eyes opened, my head shook, and I looked up at a hard, handsome, masculine face.Ominous shouts came from outside the tall, dense bush where I was hiding, sending a wave of blind panic through my system.

My first thought was that the hunters had found me, but the three men looking at me through the branches didn’t seem to be from that group. They had a clean appearance and carried the air of disciplined warriors. They also dressed differently.

The hunters wore cloaks, as if they were part of some cult, which was probably true. But the men in front of me, two of them moving the long branches aside while giving the tallest one the central position, wore blue and gray military uniforms.

Their clothes stretched tightly over their broad chests, showing their tense muscles. The tallest had more decorative stars on his uniform, which also had extra golden stripes, meaning he held a higher rank than the other two figures. How could I remember these seemingly insignificant details and still not recall my own name?

I returned the questioning looks of the men while shifting my position to crouch down. It would be stupid to stand up. That would make it easier for the intruders to grab me.

It would also be foolish to speak first and reveal my vulnerable state, so I resorted to discreetly taking inventory of the trio while reassessing my situation.

My cautious gaze fixed on their leader, and I tried not to show that his beauty had any effect on me. His eyes were a distinct gray, like the clear winter sky just before dark. His nose was straight, his jaw stubborn and strong, and his lips were so sensual that one could almost associate him with a beast.

Although all three men had their hair shaved short, the leader had neatly trimmed sideburns, a style resembling ram’s horns.

"Don’t hiss, Catnip," the youngest man to the left of the Sideburns hummed with a disarming smile, as if trying to calm a cornered cat. "We’re not going to hurt you, I promise. But if you run, I’ll catch you. I love to chase. My name’s Shade."

Shade had a youthful appearance, like Romeo. I blinked, frustrated by the fact that I could remember Romeo’s name and other useless details.

My memory might be a mess right now, but at least I wasn’t an idiot. I knew that when people promised not to hurt you, they were usually lying. Still, I sort of believed this guy. I could tell by his aura that he was more of a lover than a killer.

Tall and muscular, he resembled Sideburns, but Shade’s skin was more golden, with deep blue eyes and short, stylish blonde hair. I wanted to call him Canary, a fitting name for him.

Canary could be a model for underwear even wearing that uniform, but Sideburns was more attractive for some reason. But he seemed very serious with himself, as if he owned all the land.

The third man to the right of Sideburns seemed to be his uncle. The sides of his hair were streaked with gray, and his brown eyes, which stared at me, were relentlessly hard yet clear, like a man who kept no secrets.

Sideburns turned to face the men outside our little circle and shouted, "Lower your voices. We have a traumatized girl here!"

I could imagine how I must have looked to them. Makeshift bandages wrapped around my wounded leg, stained with dried blood. My torn nightgown barely covered my thighs. My hair was messy, full of grass and twigs, with some strands stuck to my dirty face.

Although I had washed myself by the riverbank, some residual blood still stained my clothes and skin. And no normal girl would be sleeping in a bush in the desert.