All she offered to Carson was a swallow and a nod. The words she had previously read were repeating themselves in her head. It seemed as though that huntsmen was there for her, not Ollie... at least that’s how to wording made it seem. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what the words ‘taken care of’ meant, and in the context of that book, someone wanted her dead. Carson’s words followed her, making her clench her jaw.<br/><i>I’d hate to see you go.</i><br/>It was conflicing, he’d hate to see her go yet it was written in his binder that she needed to be taken care of? As said before, she was certain the binder belonged to Carson, and her logical reasoning had determined that<i>he</i>was the one who wanted her gone. She walked away, her blood had run cold at her mistaken conclusions.<br/>“Don’t wait up, I’m not coming back.” She mumbled to herself as she marched to her house, or used to be house.<br/><br/>Her mom wasn’t home, luckily, and her boots thumped lightly on the floors as she gathered her things in a backpack. She was smart, she knew how to travel outside of the town. It wouldn’t be difficult, right? She just needed to get away. She wasn’t going to sit around to see if she was correct about her conclusions, because if she was it would be too late. She was hurt, though. If he wanted her dead, why was he trying to help her? Why keep her safe in the woods? She shook her head, pulling the strap of her backpack up and trotting down the stairs that led to her hut. She pulled a hood over her, ducking her head as she walked through the quiet streets with determination. She clutched a knife in her hand for some for of self defense, but she wasn’t slowing. After all, who was going to stop her?