"We're going to fucking die."

They were crouched in the undergrowth, wide eyes staring out past the leaves and branches that obscured them from outside view. The equine realm was long gone now - a mere dot on the horizon. How long had they been travelling now? It didn't matter at the moment - all that mattered was that they hadn't been seen yet by the creatures just metres away.

The Military Intiative agents had found them again, and now they knew why - hellhounds. Great, hulking beasts consisting of muscle and shaggy fur and teeth and claws and little else. They didn't seem to have ears or eyes. Just masses of long legs, powerful bodies, wide snouts and jaws that could snap the strongest of bones. Could sniff you out for miles.

They should have gotten that murakit.

The M.I. agents themselves couldn't have been the best of the lot; they moved too loudly, too quickly. They weren't careful enough. Even the canines were quieter, and that was why the runaways had realised they were there. That was why they hadn't been found yet. For such a secretive, silently-operating organisation, they could be so damn pathetic. Snake and Saxophone, however, were different. The elite. The best. Almost. As 'elite' as you could be in a corrupt murder agency designed to keep things quiet. Keep people out of the loop.

Because being in the loop was like being in Hell.

The packs on their backs felt like solid weights, trying to crush and flatten them like ripe berries into the ground. There was a horrified silence as Sax's pack shifted and thudded beside her; three humanoid heads and three canine snouts turned immediately towards the noise. Eye contact.

They were caught.

Agent Snake located : 1. Agent Saxophone located : 1.

"We don't want to harm you." The creature that spoke was wearing goggles and helmet just like the runaways; unidentifiable. "If you come quietly, we won't." There was no use in trying to pretend they weren't there; the agents and the hounds were staring right at them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Sax..." Snake's voice was a whisper, trailing off uselessly. The woman shook her head and, slowly, rose, pistol in hand but hands held in surrender. Snake copied her - the gun he carried was larger than a pistol, and heavier.

"I'm not coming back." Her voice trembled as she stared at the agents. Cold, unfeeling agents. They were doing their job just like the runaways once had. They didn't want to hurt them. They genuinely didn't want to hurt them, and Sax knew it. Snake knew it, too.

"Agent Saxophone, I think it'd be best if you did," the lead agent sighed. There were no guns pointing at them - but the dogs were more of a threat than any damn gun at this point. "There are three of us, and three hounds. We do not want to hurt you."

"We're caught, for fuck's sake! Let's just--"
"No!" Sax's voice rose abruptly, high-pitched, gun pointing straight at the lead agent's face. The hounds snarled and salivated. "I'm not fucking going back!"
"Your friend, Agent Snake...he's sensible," one of the three drawled -arrogant.

Bang. The leader crumpled.

A large, pale hand closed around a more tanned one and the two were running, leaving the remaining confused, shocked agents behind, but not the dogs - no, the dogs were at their heels. They didn't have much time - had to get somewhere - shelter - safety - give me--

--Snake gave a sudden leap and hoisted himself upwards onto a branch, skilful, quick, swift as one could be when weighed down by the backpack. His gun was immediately pointed at the hellhounds - bang. One down, but Sax was still down there without him.

She was terrified, of course she was! The last thing she would see, she thought, were those horrible teeth, and a mass of black fur. The two of them were circling her, and she couldn't get a clear shot. She was too afraid to kick at them; they'd bite her limb off.

The smallest one leapt for her - she felt claws rip into her side and screamed, hitting the bastard across the head with her gun, firing a shot and missing. And then it collapsed on her, and Snake was standing over them both, gun in hand.

The third, surviving hellhound turned tail and ran. A bullet followed it, and it crumpled, too.

"You alright?" He held out a hand to her and pulled her up, though carefully. Her clothing was ripped, right across the ribs. Fuck. "...It got you."

Sax hissed, hand pressed to her ribs and coming away bloody. "Yeah--I'll be fine--how's your leg?"

"It fucking kills."

The two dragged themselves onwards, now with no idea where they were, or where they were going.

Despite the victory, hope was fading.