From Writers Exchange
Another stick snapped. Leaves rustled. Her hunter was clumsy. Her cousin, Kedrin, said the overconfidence of one's opponents was often the best weapon to turn against them.
Branches rustled, off to her left. Between her and the trail. She paused and pretended to examine a skinny, prickly little plant with one long stem, one blossom and only four leaves.
In that pause, only six or seven seconds at the most, she heard more movement. Branches rustling, the scratching sound of thorns on cloth, twigs snapping underfoot. When the faint, almost non-existent breeze died for a few seconds, she even heard breathing.
More than one person followed her, making clumsy attempts at stealth. They were all together in one place. No one had thought to separate to surround her.
She was too far from the gates to call for help. Dayree whispered a prayer to D'hune and straightened from her pretend examination of the plant. She stretched her arms to the sky and forced a yawn. Let them think she was tired and not paying attention.
Too bad the stealth games her cousins taught her had to be used against her own clan, rather than the Tobrizz or other enemies.