26
Send me a number and I’ll write a drabble about my muse’s past.26. They have to hide. Quickly.
She took a step closer to the kicked-in entrance of her home, heart hammering against her throat.
“…Leave no survivors? Really, now…”
Erika froze immediately at the sound of that voice. It was deep and husky, with strong resolve and harsh authority, even though he spoke quietly. She closed her eyes and imagined the speaker, - tall, 5’11”, long brown hair, lips a straight line, donned in a dark blue cloak, blades ready for stabbing - trying to discern the distance he was away from where she stood.
“Hmph,” he muttered, sounding closer than before.
Damn, out of all people, why him? She had barely managed to knock out the Noxian soldier who had ambushed her in the burning house, and she knew she had little time left to survive. Erika bit her lip and quickly slammed her back against the closest wall, hands trembling as she sunk to the floor. Pressing the back of her head against the wall, she took a shallow breath and craned her neck to listen to him, hoping to the deepest depths of hell that he didn’t enter.
He didn’t speak.
He made no audible movement.
Erika wasn’t sure how long her lungs could hold out under the concentration of smoke and ash, but the moment he saw her, she knew she was dead. Would she risk it?
Something stung at her eyes, and she quickly wiped it away.
There was no other choice.