[Estela's POV]
[Past 2]
1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . 7 . . . 10 . . . 14 . . .
Twenty.
Terrain. Snow
Movement. Limited.
Guns. Four people.
Rest. Knives and axes.
I licked my lips and tightened my grip on my daggers, my eyes on those holding the guns.
"Take care of them."
That's my cue.
I sprinted to the nearest person holding a revolver.
The hellish basic training paid off. It heightened my senses and reflexes, as well as making my body light and flexible.
I moved in a zigzag motion, avoiding the bullets coming my way.
A Colt Python Revolver.
Three bullets left.
2 . . . 1.
I kicked the guy in the stomach and slashed his neck.
That's one down.
BANG!
I moved to the side just in time a bullet grazed my hair. I turned and threw my dagger straight on a man's skull.
That's two.
