Snippet #2655307

Rooke quickly got up from where he was kneeling. His heart raced as he raced away from the unfriendly voices. He could smell the overwhelming smell of gun oil now that he was paying attention. His cut nose wrinkled in discust at the smell, reminding him of the guns the erasers and guards use to carry around. Rooke was unable to run far, and therefore had to quickly stop and dive under a bush, 100 yards away from where he fell. His wings were hard to shove under the bush with him, and he couldn't retract his wounded wing. Rooke attempted to steady his breathing as he looked out from the bush, trying to see if he couldn't get a look at the owner of the gruff voices.

He was unable to see around a few trees, but he was able to see where he landed, feathers and broken branches strewn across the ground. He got a good look of a long muzzle that belonged to a rifle. He continued to not have the ability to see past a cluster of trees. Rooke, catching his breath quickly, rustled out from under the bush he was under. Instead of sprinting away he chose to sneak from tree to tree, going around the back of the men. Finally able to see past the wall of trees, he saw there were about 3 or 5 men. Rooke didn't know, he got those two numbers mixed up usually. It looked more than 3, so he assumed it was 5. His lips pursed as he started to back up, having seen enough. When his wings hit something soft, warm, and moving, he froze. "And what do you think you're doing?" A gruff voice growled in back of him.