by L. V. Lane (Author)

I am prey.
This is not pity talking, this is an acknowledgment of a fact.
I am small and weak; I am an omega. I am a prize that men war over.
For a year I have hidden in the distant corner of the Empire.
But I am running out of food, and I am running out of options.
That I must leave soon is not a decision for today, though, but a decision for tomorrow.
Only tomorrow's choices never come.
For tonight brings strangers who remind me that I am prey.

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