Sten glanced subtly over her shoulder. Good, that bonehead shop clerk still had her eyes glued to the soccer game on the television. In a flash, Sten quietly turned the corner of the snack aisle to the refrigerated drinks. She stopped for a moment to check her watch. Time was running out. There were only seven minutes left to pull this stunt off before it arrived.

  She only needed three bottles of Fresh Frobands. Swipe them and head out the door - easy enough, right? Her fingers rested on the cold handle of the refrigerator. She tried to pry it open, but her arm betrayed her and froze in place. Of all the times for her stupid conscience to kick in, why now?

  The cashier yelled hoarsely, shaking Sten back into focus. She glanced around the shelf, and the cashier lady went wild as her team hit a goal. The lady suddenly stopped and looked around in embarrassment, hoping the girl who entered did not see her. Sten quickly dove back behind the corner, avoiding her gaze.

  Relax, Sten, she whispered as she caught her breath. There’s still enough time.

  She opened the refrigerator and grabbed two cold, nippy bottles. As soon as she closed the fridge, she snapped in the opposite direction and briskly walked towards the door. Was she being a little hasty? The cashier needed to stay fixed on that screen. Remembering her training, Sten forcefully slowed herself until she was completely inaudible, gliding forward on the white tiles.

  Looking up at the corner, she saw the cashier through the convex mirror. The clerk was rooting for the winning team, her eyes were locked only a few centimeters from the screen. This was perfect. She probably wouldn’t even notice Sten leaving.

  The exit was right there! No one was going to stop her, even if they tried.

  Sten glanced around the edge of the aisle. Again, she looked at her watch. With five minutes left, it was enough time to make a break for the door.

  Summoning all her wits and strength, she walked as quickly as possible while remaining inconspicuous. It is harder than it looks, making muted long strides, and holding your breath for minutes, but it was certainly worth it - Sten’s cold fingertips finally wrapped around the metal handle of the door. She began slowly pushing it, careful not to ring the tiny doorbell. The cool summer evening breeze blew around her cheeks and played with her hair, beckoning her to come outside.

  As if a spirit possessed her, Sten reached into her coat pocket, pushing past the crumpled papers, and found some coins at the bottom. Upon feeling them, she froze, three-fourths of the way out the door. Sten’s brows furrowed as she looked at the silver coins at the center of her hand. There was just enough to pay for all the bottles.

  A small grumble escaped her lips: “Tenebrific.”

  Sten rushed back to the counter and dropped the water bottles and coins. The cashier lady was still glued to the screen as she grabbed the coins and began slowly counting them with her fingers. It took her several seconds to recognize each coin she held, carefully feeling each groove and indent before placing it back on the counter. Sten gnashed her teeth, forcing herself to stay and watch each coin painstakingly stacked one on the other. She was losing time.

  Finally, the cashier lady looked away from the screen and moved to the side of the counter. She opened the cashier drawer, took out a couple of bills, and slapped them on the counter.

  “Kid, if you’re on the run, you need some money to survive the trip,” the cashier lady said as she returned to watching the game. “I appreciate the honesty though.”

  Taken aback by the kind act, Sten thanked her with a timid nod. She grabbed the bottles and money, and ran outside, ramming the door aside.

  ***

  As soon as she left the store, Sten sprinted as hard as her fatigued legs could to the old, rusty scooter in the parking lot. There was an innate urge to turn and look down the road, but it risked losing the remaining precious seconds. She hopped on the cracked leather seat, hit the kickstand, and stomped the starter lever.

  The scooter was a local Froband model from 1967, the famed Sagal brand. Sten had only bought it the week before for the mission. She had spotted it at a flea market, requiring something light, fast, and dirt-cheap. And it was cheap - the price was a steal for such a famous, dashing vehicle. Though its body was aged and rusted, it was love at first sight for Sten. Without a second thought she immediately bought it, dropping half her trip budget into the hands of the shopkeeper, giddy as a high school girl.

  However, throughout her trip westward across the endless forests and meadows, the scooter seemed to slowly dismantle itself every kilometer. Its price was dirt cheap for a reason. Sten only managed to keep the Sagal together with duct tape, glue, and zip ties after reading and memorizing a thin handbook on mechanics. When a passerby looked at the scooter with confusion and disgust, Sten glanced back with a murderous look. It may be old and worn out, but it worked just as fine; it was her Segal, and no one could say otherwise.

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  Sten stomped down on the starter lever several times, bringing the engine to life. The old machine's frame began to rumble from the coughing and sputtering. A large plume of grey smoke belched from the exhaust. Sounds of metal creaking, parts snapping, and nuts and bolts tinkling rattled the interior, shaking it until it stalled.

  Sten stared with a mixed look of shock and despair at the scooter. She slammed down on the starter, but it sputtered again and fell silent. Had she finally run out of fuel? Or did the engine decide to give up? Sten smashed the lever repeatedly, hoping that it would finally start up. Each failed attempt made her hit the starter harder, cold sweat slithering down her cheek. A heart-piercing fear gripped her, making her skin crawl from the cold.

  Then, it dawned on her what was happening. Sten looked down the road. The streetlights in the distance buzzed and flickered until they shut off, leaving the surroundings shrouded in darkness. A macabre black cloak slowly devoured everything in its path, clawing itself closer to her.

  She tried to lift her foot to kick the starter again, but it was fastened to the ground. Her entire body was frozen in place, her eyes stuck staring into the nauseating ink pool that enveloped itself around her. It was so close now, its whispered chants luring her closer.

  “Why do you continue to run?” it breathed into Sten’s ear. It spoke with a male and female voice; it was soft and steady, yet it tortured Sten’s ears like a thousand children wailing and squealing. “There is no more running. You may rest your weary heart now. Your place is here, with me and your brethren.”

  It was too late. The Feàrnnik had come for her. Sten felt her senses draining from her body, her blood running cold. All the life that filled her body slowly ripped away, tearing her soul piece by piece. She could neither fight back nor scream against the monstrous being pulling her apart. The only thing she could do was watch in terror as her vision went dark.

  Sten, now trapped in her mind, thought with regret about all that had happened. This would never have happened if she had run straight out the door with the water bottles instead. Then again, the Feàrnnik would have caught anyway sooner or later. The mission, the tens of kilometers she had traveled, the sacrifices made - were all for nothing.

  The leather seat rumbled underneath Sten, shaking her from the trance. She looked from the corner of her eye that somehow the scooter had revived itself, its headlight revealing the road ahead. At the last moment it decided to pull itself together again. Without question, Sten used all the strength left in her body to pull her hands onto the handles, fighting to claw her stiff fingers around them.

  But the Feàrnnik had not given up just yet. It screamed and wailed, furiously engulfing itself around the scooter. Sten watched icy crystals form across her skin with every breath from the monster. The darkness was weighing her down, making it harder to breathe. She tried to twist the throttle, barely keeping herself awake with every hopeless gasp. It barely budged, the mechanisms stuck under a thin layer of frost.

  In a final act of desperation, Sten lunged her whole body forward, slamming against the dashboard. The force allowed her hand to break the ice as she violently turned the throttle. With a whine and rumble, the scooter shot straight out the freezing darkness and down the deserted road. The monster wailed and gnashed its teeth, eager to reclaim what it sought. But the sly, quick-thinking girl was better. Riding the scooter forward, she neatly dodged its flailing arms and hands, swerving left and right at vicious speeds.

  Sten glanced behind her and saw she had gained a considerable distance from the Feàrnnik, leaving the empty dark mass groping around in the empty air. She let loose a few loud huffs, trying to release all the adrenaline shaking her fingers. But she could not relax yet. Her hands gripped the handlebars tightly as she kept the vehicle straight, barely seeing through her squinted, teary eyes. She continued at breakneck speed until she was sure the monster's wailing echoes could no longer be heard.

  ***

  With a jolt Sten woke on the soft grass field as the hot morning sun stung her cheeks, swiping the insects that buzzed her face. Throwing off the ragged coat she used as a blanket, she saw the sky was a bright, clear, cloudless blue above the green plains and fields—finally some good weather. Sten stood up, dusted her clothes, and basked under the sun.

  Looking back down the road, the pavement seemed to stretch across the flatlands to the horizon. The highway convenience store she had stopped at last night was no longer in sight. Hopefully, the clerk did not notice the Feàrnnik or be harmed by it. But the important thing at present was that Sten managed to escape it, meaning that the relic was still safe in her possession and the mission was still active.

  Sten carefully opened the brown leather bag she had clutched in her arms all night. Inside was a brass bottle larger than her hand, covered with intricate patterns of tiny dents and raised dots. Ancient text detailed its contents: an ancient substance that would allow the Feàrnnik to be free from its restrictions and hunt humans in the daylight. The bottle's surface emanated the same cold as the Feàrnnik had, causing her to drop it back into the bag.

  She pulled out one of the bottles she had bought, opened it, and took three big gulps of the lukewarm water. As she drank, she took out an old crumpled paper full of written addresses. Most have struck out with a red pen, indicating the ones where she did not find the original caretaker of the brass bottle. There were still two more addresses left, but they were also the furthest away from the orphanage she had ever been.

  She would carry out the mission until the right address was found, or the Feàrnnik had caught up with her. Besides, a cross-country road trip was better than any day in that rotting orphanage, even if it meant she did not have money left for a decent breakfast.

  Thinking about food made Sten’s stomach growl. Folding the paper back into her pocket, Sten took one final gulp from the water bottle and threw it back in her bag. It did not satisfy her hunger, but it was still better than nothing. She then walked over to the rusty scooter and started the engine, causing the scooter to shake violently and creak again. Full of anxiety and determination, she twisted the throttle and took off down the long, dusty road to her next destination.