Title: The Hunted
Summary: You did what you had to do.
He had been a soldier, but his army was destroyed. He had been a
citizen, but his planet existed no more. He had been a man, but the
woman he had loved was killed in front of his eyes.
Now he was neither a soldier, nor a citizen, nor a man. He was a runner.
He understood. He understood when the Wraith attacked (it was hunger).
He understood when the Wraith killed (it was hunger). He understood when
the Wraith tagged and released him. It was hunger. They were using him
And bait he was, running across planets until he found a hidden village,
then staying, his head held high, as the Wraith used his tracker to
locate the village and destroy it. Perhaps he had hoped to die in that
raid, as he should had on the one on his planet.
Perhaps he already knew that the Wraith wouldn't kill him. Not as long
as he ran for them.
For years, he did. He counted neither cold planets nor betrayed friends.
Time was as meaningless as everything else.
Eventually news spread about him, and he had to hid from his people.
That made things easier. Easier to betray who was out to kill you
anyway. Easier to imagine the Wraith as something he used to vent his
anger. Better to think himself a villain than a tracking dog.
He never felt fear. He was a runner. Villagers he could defeat, and the
Wraith would not touch him, and there was nothing else in the galaxy. He
was, as much as anybody could, safe.
Then word spread about another runner. One who stayed away from
villages. One that killed Wraith.
One that had heard of what he had done and was hunting him down.
He ran for weeks, as fast and as far as he could.
It wasn't fast or far enough.