Page 12 of Hunted By Fae

Tesni’s grunt is quick to turn into a shout as she angles her measly weight into it. She’s not ridiculously small or slight, but the girl has no muscle mass at all.

I might be doing all the work.

My shout is too gravelled, too exhausted, “Bet you wish you’d come to the gym with me now.”

Tesni’s mouth is twisted into a bared-teeth look at up me. “Never in my life.”

Before I can retort, the door jolts out of the gap, and my boots slip over the plastic.

“Bee!” Tesni’s charged shout follows me as I fall back. I hit the bottom cubicle, hard. “Fuck, fuck—Bee? Bee, are you ok?”

A grunt catches in my chest. “I’m alright, I’m alright.”

The thunder of bootsteps rattles the pyramid.

I blink up at the glare of the sun above, still scorching us, merciless.

A shadow bobs into the bright light.

Tesni has climbed to the top cubicle, and she peers over the edge, looking down at me. She seems to think I look unharmed enough, because, “What’s the matter?” she says. “Pissed that the gym didn’t save you from that?”

Sprawled on my back, I huff an annoyed sound, then flip her off.

The shadow of her head disappears.

There’s a rattle and a thud that comes from above before Tesni calls out, “The door’s dented. I’m gonna pull—and you kick from the inside, alright?”

There’s a chorus of groans from the cubicle.

“Wait,” I grunt and force myself back up. I scale the edge to join her at the top. “Door’s jammed?”

Tesni gestures to the lock, a handle that should be on the door, but isn’t.

It’s gone.

Must have been kicked out by a sharp hoof in the stampede.

“We force that door open,” I sigh, “and a whole lot of shit is coming our way. Literally.”

It doesn’t stink over here for no reason.

I don’t even want to think about the mess in there.

Tesni makes a face, her gaze swerving between me and the door. Then her boots backslide as she inches away.

I throw her a glare. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Tesni gives a lame smile. “You’ve got this. I believe in you.”

A scoff jolts me before I grip the broken edges of the handle. “Ready? Now!”

I pull.

Instantly, my shoulders ache, like my muscles are stretching like toffee on a hot day. The strain reaches my twisting face.

The door shudders.

The kicks from the inside, the boots smacking hard on the plastic door, trembles and cracks the whole portable.