Ensnared
Peter's tent was right next to Pandora’s, so he heard when someone entered the tent, and then again when hurried whispers were passed between the two girls. It sounded a lot like Pandora was talking to herself, which was entirely possible, Pandora was weird.
The rustling inside the tent continued, before Pandora came to his tent and peeked inside. Sitting on his bed already, he blinked back at her.
“Oh, you’re awake! Good,” she says, relieved.
Peter didn’t think it was good. He thinks it was rather annoying. He had plans tonight, and she was setting them back by causing a disturbance in the camp.
“Emergency camp meeting, five minutes.” She said, all the authority of a five year old in Peter's opinion, but he knew everyone would listen to her anyway.
She spun some story about a werewolf, insisting that they find weapons and hunker down, and of course, stay together. She was positively hysterical when half the camp began grumbling about wasting their precious sleeping time, so distressed that Regulus managed to coerce the camp into indulging her.
You may ask why they couldn’t just leave. Well, they had been dropped in by a bus, and then hiked a few kilometres into the woods before settling into the camp. The bus wasn’t coming back for another two days, and there was no reception.
There was no way out, and yet there were several people unaccounted for already. The group organised separate search parties.
Peter got stuck with Rabastan.
Rabastan was getting on his last nerve. He was telling Peter in vivid detail what he would do if he were to come face to face with a werewolf. Peter knew it was absolute hogwash, but he nodded along, encouraging him to continue as he led Rabastan towards one of the traps he had set up during his afternoon hike.
“There is no such thing as werewolves though,” Peter says eventually, frowning. “I don’t know why we’re indulging her,”
“Werewolves are a folk tale, even Pandora knows that. She’s clearly had a dream about a serial killer coming and wiping out our camp, or something and it freaked her out. It’s fine.”
Peter sighs. The “weapons” will be a real inconvenience. They won’t stand up to his own, but regardless, he’s not happy about Pandora's apparent knack for telling the future. He wonders if he should just wait until tomorrow, when everyone has calmed down and gotten over it. If she had known it was him, then he wouldn’t have been the first tent she peeked into.
Before he can make a decision, Rabastan steps into the trap, rope tightening around his ankle and yanking him upside down. He hangs at eye level with Peter, shock on his features, as Peter looks at him with a blank expression, making no move to help him.
“What the fuck,” Rabastan says, a little breathless, looking around for the end of the rope. He gestures to it, looking at Peter a little exasperated. “A little help?”
Peter pulls the gag out of his pocket, instead, and secures it before Rabastan can call out for help. Rabastan struggles and writhes and tries to kick Peter with his free leg, and Peter steps away.
Peter sighs, admiring the struggle of the man he ensnared. He loves seeing humans in these kinds of traps. He had only brought a knife with him, it was the only thing he could bring without making it immediately obvious that he was well equipped with actual weapons. He bends down to retrieve the knife from his boot, and unclips a flask from his hip. It’s been too long since he tasted blood on his tongue, and his least favourite of the group of people he had gathered would do nicely.
He stands back and waits for Rabastan to pass out from being upside down for too long, before stepping up to his limp body and slicing his knife along his jugular, tapping him like a tree. Rabastan jerks violently for a moment, but he’ barely stirs, and when the blood stops spurting like a fire hydrant, he fills his flask, wiping the mess on the jacket that hangs down behind Rabastans head.
Peter is careful to stay clear of the blood that has gotten on the tree, the earth and the leaf litter, for now, he can’t afford to raise suspicion.