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Greg The Anti-Viking
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On the left is a mod, on the right is a pre-made psycho...get the picture?
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Life moved slowly for the first few seconds after Morgan hid behind the logs. The rifle was still shaking in his left hand. His right hand was patting his body, looking for any kind of wound. He hadn't felt any pain, but it wasn't a bad idea to make sure. He let out a sigh of relief when he found nothing. He then waited for the next shot, but there was nothing. Hearing nothing was almost as bad as hearing anything at all.

He was relieved to see Jen sit right next to him seconds later. Now the two of them were safe, for now. Maybe the two of them were safe, but if poker had taught him one thing in his life. It was to never trust that you were out of the clear.

Morgan's tiny companion was right, they were likely free, but he still wanted to be sure. He slowly bent his knees and lifted his head over the logs. He took a quick glance and saw that one of them was gone and that the other wasn't holding any gun. He didn't stick around to get any more details though. He quickly slid back down onto his rear end and took a deep breath.

Jen was counting on him to get them out of this situation and the pressure could be felt in this very moment. He had to think about whether that guy out there still had a gun. If he guessed wrong, well...there wouldn't be much thinking about the move afterwards.

"Ok Jen," Morgan said, taking a deep breath before doing so, "One of the dude's is gone, and the other doesn't seem to have a gun...I uh...I think that we're going to have to make a break for it again though..."

He wiped off a layer of sweat and haphazardly picked at his lip. It was time to move, there was no debating it now. If the two of them were going to survive here and live to find a way out of here. They had to move now.

"Ok," he said, with more confidence in his voice. "We're going to make a break for it. On my mark..."

Morgan got up onto his knees before starting in a crouch. He wished he didn't have to run now, his feet and legs would be killing him but it would all be worth it.


Morgan ran. He hoped that Jen was close behind but he didn't check behind him. All that mattered now was getting out. He jumped over logs and avoided stumps as best he could. He nearly fell three times already, but he maintained his balance.

The two of them would find a way out. He still had hope...

((Morgan Leftowitz continued elsewhere))
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B054:Oscar Trig-Smoker, Artist, Film Buff

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Fall down seven times...
Stand up eight...
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Some Fantastic · The Felled Forest: North