"A mournful moon..."

The day had passed her in slow-moving shades of gray while she prepared for the night's task. Like one of those silent movies lacking in color and appeal, to her at least, because it made it so easy for her thoughts to wander. Wandering thoughts were not something she welcomed tonight. She had a task, and it needed to be accomplished without distraction. However, despite her desperate attempt to focus on the work at hand, her mind constantly battled against her instincts.

What if you die?

I will die if I do nothing.

Not asking for help is stubborn in leads to stupidity which leads to death.

Asking others to fight my battles will only lead to losing the freedom I've only just gained.

Both voices had their place and point, but she quickly opted to smack the cement flooring whenever they became too loud. It was lucky she was alone. Anyone witnessing the internal battle might be a little more than concerned.

It was mindless work, setting physical and magical traps meant to ensnare more than body or mind. Nevertheless, Hope was more than content with her location for the standoff. It was a warehouse, far enough away from town but not too far she wouldn't be able to get back quickly enough to be surrounded by people. Witnesses. Granted, she didn't know if these hunters cared much about human involvement in their little prance about the hunt. After all, they'd attacked her in a motel where undoubtedly others had been residing in.

Still, Hope happily regarded the metal-encased lot to be a perfect trap. Inside held a maze of towering wooden crates. They were empty. Of course, she'd already checked them and managed to arm a few strategically placed containers with a few surprises the man with the tattooed knuckles would simply die for.

She smirked at her own thought.

Hope had taken the time to walk the maze over and over. Running through it. Running blindfolded. She was unsatisfied with herself until she knew that lot inch for inch. To have the upper hand, you have to gain the upper hand. You don't let it land in your lap. You fight for it. That's what Hope was doing. Fighting for what was rightfully hers.

Her freedom.

It was a mournful moon that rose that night. It didn't glitter with possibilities nor offer the comfort of a warm glow. Instead, it sang a sad, soundless song. Hope knew it would witness bloodshed tonight.

Whose blood she didn't know.

The drive back to town wasn't as stressful as she thought it might be. She rolled her window down and embraced the fresh air against her skin, tangling through her hair. Perhaps she had lost all sanity. She was about to swing fresh meat in front of a vicious pack of animals. One might think the comparison strange, but any predator can appear docile until provoked.

It wasn't until passing the sign welcoming her to Beacon Hills once more did she feel the stirring of unease. By the time she was under the town lights, the emotion had festered into a panic. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel Hope took a few deep breaths to center herself. No amount of preparation could have stifled this sense of dread. There was so much on the line, and for what? Pride? Self-assurance?

"Shut up!" Hope shouted in sudden indignation.

Feeling the weight of eyes on her, she cast her gaze over to her left. Two women had been walking on the sidewalk across the street. When they met her eyes...they quickened their pace.

I don't blame them, she thought, as she let out a deep sigh and looked ahead. It was amazing how quickly the streets of Beacon Hills became quiet past ten o'clock.

Okay, think, fish hook and bait. How does one flaunt bait?

Present it in the presence of the fish.

But, where is the fish?

Hope combed the streets with her eyes, suddenly wildly thankful for night vision, as she could see a little past the copse of trees behind the neighborhood homes. Cheerfully lit and ordinary. It might have calmed her nerves if she wasn't met with an aching desire to join their warmth.

Blinding light in her rear-view mirror took Hope's vision.

The vehicle she hadn't known was behind her was now on her rear. Bumping against the back bumper, revving its obnoxious engine. She wasn't sure if fear or instinct caused her to gun her accelerator. Shooting forward, she blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes to the sudden assault the brights had inflicted.

They weren't in a green truck. No, this was not the truck Hope had spent hours scouring for from behind her living room curtains. This truck was large. Very large. It was jet black and glossy, blending into the darkness of the street. Above the cab were massive mufflers and a row of white lights that, when paired with headlights, had taken up her vision.

They had switched the recognizable green truck for this monstrosity.

Of course, they had. These hunters weren't stupid.

She wasn't the first creature they've hunted, but she would be the last.

As her car shot forward, she made a hasty decision to pull the wheel sharply to the left, spinning her around in the street. The warehouse was in the opposite direction from which she was faced.

She faced the truck head-on. The rumble of its engine surprised her. Had it always been that loud? Hope stared at the black windshield. She didn't have to see the driver for her to know he had tattooed covered knuckles.

Hope waited. Patiently, gaze fixed on the truck. Searching for any detection, it would make the first move.

It sprung forward, but she held still.

She parted her lips in concentration.

A little closer. A little...closer.

Hope slammed her foot on the gas and took off, driving onto the sidewalk, demolishing a mailbox in its wake, and continued increasing speed down the single stretch of road. She prayed they'd be alone on the street. She didn't need to be pulled over by her next-door neighbor.

It was touch and go for a little under fifteen minutes. Hope made sure she wasn't driving too fast that they'd lose her or too slow that they'd be suspicious. The wind whipped her hair, stinging her cheeks and neck. Her heart leaped with adrenaline.

A grin surfaced.

Hope could feel that power surging through her. After all, a power line doesn't become dangerous until the storm comes through. When the electricity has been freed from its post.

The glinting rooftop of the warehouse was just beyond, and she could only hope that they assumed she was seeing it as a last resort getaway attempt.

As she swiftly took the road down the right fork, she let herself swerve a little to give the impression it wasn't a planned move. Then she glanced up at her mirror.

They had turned on all of their, flooding the empty field with a white blaze. It made the grass look like static. Her brain turned a bit fuzzy like someone stuffed cotton beneath her skull. Then, erupting from nothing, music blared from behind. Screaming music that rattled her teeth.

She swerved again, this time unintentionally.

Hope growled outwardly. Her eyes blazing amber as she veered the car to the side while slamming on the breaks, spinning out in a circle of clouded dust. She lept from the driver's door and was inside the warehouse before the hunters could come to a complete stop.

Time to play.