Claimed Read Free

soon as it had chased after him. He wasn’t too worried about the man. He would have handled him with little difficulty. It was the dog he was terrified of.
    He turned around and took his normal trek back north of the woods. He neared a tree with a messy structure of roots overhanging a deep gully. His eyes roved the forest ensuring that he was indeed alone. Although, the forest was almost impenetrable to those who weren’t accustomed to its wilderness, he needed to be assured that he wasn’t being watched.
    Satisfied, he crawled into the space between the exposed roots. He moved further into the disguised hollow; finally lighting a torch as he wormed his way through the elaborate caves. The dim light in the tunnel ahead of him, gave him indication that there were people already there. Their voices echoed towards him and he could distinctly make out that one of them was loudmouthed Frank Townsend.
    “ Why, if it isn’t Eric Stark?” said the burly, mid-thirtyish man as he emerged into the room.
    “Hey,” Eric replied sullenly.
    There were twelve other men seated about the two large tables in the musty bricked abandoned train platform.
    “Where have you been, Eric? Hunting again?” asked Frank.
    Eric threw his bow onto the table. “Yeah.”
    “Where’s the meat, then? Don’t tell me you’ve hunted all the deer out of the woods?”
    “I was beaten to it,” he let out flatly.
    It was a short sentence but enough to gain the attention of all twelve men. Eric rarely missed. He was the best archer amongst them.
    “Was it a corporate dog?” asked one.
    “No,” Eric answered. “It was a Sector 8 Central native.”
    “Michael’s boy?” James Saunders asked, trying to sound as casual as he could. The fifty-three year old man picked up his glass of brandy to calm his excited fingers.
    “Jared, yes,” Eric groaned. “ Didn’t I tell you he was up to something whenever he brought in his meat to the butchers? Never believed him at all when he said he trapped them while they were crossing the highway.”
    “Well, he sure was convenient,” Frank joked. “He’s been supplying venison like he was farming the antlered animals. Some helluva luck he’s got!” He chuckled, and was prodded on by more cheeky quips from the others.
    But James was far too engrossed in his own thoughts to enjoy their light-hearted teasing.
    “How is he with his bow, Eric?” he asked.
    “Deft,” Eric sulked. “A little too deft for my liking.”
    James nodded. He gulped down the last of his drink and then stood up.
    “Where are you going, Mr Saunders?”asked Frank, still beaming from the small uproar of laughter he had caused.
    James harrumphed as he cleared his throat. He looked over at the men, now watching him curiously. He had only just arrived into their den and it was certainly suspicious that he was leaving so soon. He eyed the door eagerly, wishing to get out of there as soon as he could.
    “I’ve got some business to attend to,” he replied.
    “But what of Governor Callum? Weren’t we going to discuss how we would infiltrate the parliament?” Frank protested.
    “On what I have now, we don’t stand a chance,” he mumbled. “We’d have the military sweeping through these forests for us. And we’d be over before we could properly start.”
    “ Mr Saunders, you promised us you’d help us with the rebellion,” argued another man.
    “Yes, I did and what makes you think I am not working on it?” he growled back. “These are not the days of Robin Hood. You think that those thick webs of vines in the jungle out there is gonna hold back a team of merciless soldiers? They’d rather burn down this aquifer than subject themselves to the likelihood of a possible militia group.”
    “But you said… we could do this,” stammered a short, ginger-haired man called Trent.
    “I said if we worked together, we could come up with something that might break down the corporate regiment.” James Saunders walked to the end