suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

ackpacks, two large black ones with the numbers 2 and 11, a
medium-size green one with the number 5, and a tiny orange
one — really I could carry it around my wrist — that must be
marked with a 12.
The table has just clicked into place when a figure darts out
of the Cornucopia, snags the green backpack, and speeds off.
Foxface! Leave it to her to come up with such a clever and
risky idea! The rest of us are still poised around the plain, sizing
up the situation, and she’s got hers. She’s got us trapped,
too, because no one wants to chase her down, not while their
own pack sits so vulnerable on the table. Foxface must have
purposefully left the other packs alone, knowing that to steal
one without her number would definitely bring on a pursuer.
That should have been my strategy! By the lime I’ve worked
through the emotions of surprise, admiration, anger, jealousy,
and frustration, I’m watching that reddish mane of hair disappear
into the trees well out of shooting range. Huh. I’m always
dreading the others, but maybe Foxface is the real opponent
here.
She’s cost me time, too, because by now it’s clear that I
must get to the table next. Anyone who beats me to it will
easily scoop up my pack and be gone. Without hesitation, I
sprint for the table. I can sense the emergence of danger before
I see it. Fortunately, the first knife comes whizzing in on
my right side so I can hear it and I’m able to deflect it with my
bow. I turn, drawing back the bowstring and send an arrow
straight at Clove’s heart. She turns just enough to avoid a fatal
hit, but the point punctures her upper left arm. Unfortunately,
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