Page 220 of Hunters and Prey

He had a strange, fleeting memory of stealing fruits with his sister, Maryn, when he was a kid. He’d been so young, just wandering through the grass had been tough. He remembered Maryn holding him up so he could pluck a small, hard, green apple from a neighbor human’s tree.

The thought was there and gone, a flicker of memory and sensation that both made him flinch and surprised him with how vivid it was.

For the first time, he wondered if he was dead.

“You’re not dead, brother,” a voice growled.

Black froze, his mouth full of fruit.

He promptly swallowed what was in his mouth, nearly choking on it.

Turning his head slowly, he met hard eyes, staring at him from among the trees. Despite the male’s height, he’d come up on Black so silently, his light so still, Black hadn’t felt him at all, or seen him among the shadows and light from the fruit-covered branches.

Black found himself staring at that face, at the glass-like eyes that stared into his, the narrow, angular face, the long jaw.

“…Not yet,” the male finished, his voice still that low growl.

Two things occurred to Black.

One, the male spoke perfect English, if with the faintest trace of a German accent.

Two, he was holding some kind of gun.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

They both stood there, as if turned to stone.

Then a third thing crossed Black’s mind.

That gun was pointed straight at him.

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