The forest had grown darker, the tall trees stretching upward like silent sentinels, shadows pooling in the gaps between trunks. The ground was uneven, a labyrinth of roots, rocks, and rotting leaves, each step a gamble. Branches whipped at their faces, scratching raw lines across arms and cheeks. The air smelled damp and metallic, mixed with the acrid scent of smoke and oil. Every sound was amplified—leaves crunching, twigs snapping, their own ragged breathing—a symphony of terror.
Ababeel stumbled, gripping her bag tight, stomach twisting violently, nausea clawing at her throat. Her boots sank into mud, roots catching the soles, forcing her to lurch forward like a rag doll tossed in the wind.
Habeel ran ahead, scanning constantly, muscles tense, jaw clenched. His heart thundered in his chest, a percussion matching the frantic pounding of their feet against the forest floor.
Then—a mechanical whir cut through the natural chaos.
The drones.
Two of them, hovering like angry hornets, metal bodies gleaming faintly in the dark, guns spinning, optics locking onto targets with precise malice. One fixated on Habeel, buzzing aggressively as if smelling blood. The other—relentless and terrifying—tracked Ababeel, whirring like a predator closing in on prey.
Ababeel (gasping, voice tight with panic): "Oh… oh no… oh no no no…"
She clutched her stomach, stomach lurching violently, and ran with every ounce of strength fear could summon.
Habeel (gritting his teeth, eyes blazing): "Alright, little bat-wielding psycho. Time to play."
He dug into his bag and triumphantly pulled out her baseball bat, dusty but sturdy—a last line of defence against the flying monsters.
Habeel rounded a tree just as the first drone dove at him, guns spinning like buzzing teeth.
Habeel (yelling): "Sorry, flying idiot! Not today!"
With a running jump, he swung the bat, the wood connecting with a metallic clang that rang through the forest. Sparks flew from the drone's body as it spiralled uncontrollably, finally crashing into a thick bush, wires snapping and sparks sizzling.
Habeel (dusting his hands, smirking): "Take a nap, tin can!"
Meanwhile, Ababeel ran blindly, nausea twisting her insides into knots. Her legs trembled like jelly. The drone followed her relentlessly, a buzzing, metallic predator, guns clicking ominously.
Ababeel (muttering to herself, panicked whisper): "Why me… why meee… just let me die in peace… not like this…"
Branches slapped her face, roots snared her boots, and leaves scratched at her arms. She skidded to a stop against a fallen log, eyes squeezed shut, knees shaking violently.
Ababeel (to herself): "Okay. Okay. Just… close eyes. Brace. Don't think. Don't scream. Don't… vomit. Don't vomit…"
Habeel rounded another tree, bat in hand, vision blazing with determination. He spotted her—the tiny, terrified figure pinned by the relentless drone.
Habeel (yelling, voice fierce): "Hey, metal freak! You picked the wrong prey today!"
He swung the bat with precision. CRASH. Sparks showered, the drone spinning violently, smashing against a tree. It teetered, groaning in mechanical agony, finally starting to malfunction.
Ababeel peeked one eye open, disbelief and relief flooding her.
Ababeel (shaky, awe-struck): "You… you…You saved me…"
Habeel (grinning through the chaos): "Duh. Not letting my favourite psycho die… not today."
Just as the drone shuddered, it fired one last shot. A searing pain tore through Habeel's arm. He grunted, staggering, gripping his bat tighter.
Habeel (grimacing, almost comical despite the pain): "Oh… that's… that's gonna leave a mark. Stupid flying metal prick."
Ababeel (panicked): "Habeel! Are you okay?!"
He shook his head, gritting his teeth, face pale but determined.
Habeel: "Yeah… yeah… just… minor inconvenience. Totally fine. Keep running!"
They sprinted together, weaving between trees, ducking under low-hanging branches, leaping over roots that tried to trip them. Habeel's arm throbbed with every step, each heartbeat a drum of pain. Ababeel's face was pale, dizzy, and almost collapsing—but fear lent her impossible strength.
Ababeel (huffing, voice ragged): "Next time… remind me… to never leave home again!"
Habeel (gritting a pained smile, swinging the bat slightly as he ran): "Next time… remind me… to bring a bigger bat."
The forest was alive with danger: mechanical buzzing, sparks sizzling, branches cracking, their own ragged breaths, and the distant hum of drone engines still searching. And yet, in the midst of it all, absurdity and adrenaline mingled to give them a tiny, fleeting spark of relief.
They ran together, wounded, terrified, and unstoppable—because in this moment, survival depended on unity, chaos, and a little reckless courage. And somehow, it kept them alive.