The Hunted

A crack, like board hitting board, echoed through the Steles, stone blocks, before something thudded the ground by her ear and tore at her hair.

"Ouch. What was that?" She looked up at Raphael and gasped.

Blood flowed from a hole in his chest, streaking down his torso into the earth at his knee. With a growl, he fell on top of her and rolled them into the cover of the jungle.

"Raphael! Raphael, are you all right?" She moved from underneath to roll him onto his back. Blood continued to flow from his wound, but at a slower pace.

"No, although, I will be." He squeezed her hand and looked her up and down. "The bullet went clear through. Thank God it didn't hit you."

"Bullet?" She leaned over him to draw in a breath. "It wasn't silver."

"No. It's my guess they're just thrill-seeking poachers." He struggled to his feet. "But we have to go. They've started to track us."