Next part of the beginning

Creeping forward, realising I cannot stay where I am; I struggle through the thickets and brambles – tearing my clothes and skin on the razor-sharp barbs. I know these actions are futile but I cannot surrender, I cannot give up on my life so willingly although my muscles seem to seize up in protest. My mind wants shut down; just accept the fate, soon to be fulfilled but I am so afraid I am kept conscious of everything – senses piercingly clear, too aware of the world to become comatose but too fuelled with instinct to panic.

I do not know why I move with stealth, trying to make the least amount of sound, the creature knows I am here – I am almost sure the beast is tracking my movement intently. As I continue to move, rapidly my trembling turns to violent shaking, my legs are like lead as I trudge through the wood, slowing me down as if wading through ice. I keep one eye on my surroundings while the other on my procession, the creature is but a shadow at present but any moment it could burst through the trees to take down its quarry. I silently pray for safety although I know it is futile – there is no god, and if there were he would never listen to me.

My breathing is hard to control; I gape and draw in open-mouthed, the night air is painful with every inhalation, scoring down my convulsing throat – I fight the vomit burning within my body for fear of the creature locking target on me. I stop abruptly behind a large oak tree – pressing my soaking palms against the rough bark until the fibres dig deeply into my skin. I feel safer behind its great stature as if it truly can protect me from any danger. To my dismay, my face is coated in thick icy sweat – it drips down my forehead like torrents, twisting together and spilling off my jawline. I rub one hand over my damp cheeks, wiping my eyes, resisting the urge to pretend this is dream. Suddenly a low sound makes me freeze – I am so still I do not breathe. It was a whine, a pitiful sound that vibrated unpleasantly in my ears. Then terror grips me as I believe I hear the noise again, this time loud…coming from just behind me.

I nearly scream aloud as I spin around expecting to come face to face with the creature, my eyes wide and pulse thundering through my entire body. But nothing is there. The sound extinguished. I pant silently but franticly, unable to make sense of this phantom presence, my head spinning around looking desperately for a deadly apparition. Then after a moment I realise…the sound I heard came from me. I was the one who made the fearful whimper – I should have known. That sound was not the eruption of a stalking predator; it was the sound of prey.

My heartbeat throbs in my temples; my skin feels as if it is moving along bone. Tears leak out from my eyes and blend in with the sweat saturated flesh. I hate to be so weak, but I am so young, so defenceless and alone. I am but a toy to this demon, a game to play, a prize to be won and a test of its strength. And, despite the fact I quiver all over with dread and struggle to battle with evitable defeat, to my despair I see myself in the creature – the teasing of the victim, the regardless display of superiority, the excitement of the game…I have become what I feed upon.

I shake my head in anguish, pushing these thoughts away and continuing to plunge deeper into the trees – thoughts burst through my brain at such a speed I am sure it will be ripped to shreds. Will I get out alive? Where the hell is the creature? Have I become the weak feed for the strong? Does the creature still follow me? Can I avoid it by climbing the trees? Has my sister got away from this place without being detected? Why have I become the victim? I WILL NOT DIE THE VICTIM.

 Normally I can move with barely any sound but this time I feel I am making the most noise in the world – even the tiniest crackle of a leaf beneath my boot is like the sound of a gunshot shattering the night. As fear continues to eat my courage away, I move more quickly – I know I am making enough noise for the creature to hear me but at this point there is little resistance other than trying to get away.  I cannot even hear sounds around me anymore – all that fills my ears is the sound of my hysterical heartbeat, so powerful and petrified that it seems it will smash through my ribcage and tear a hole in my chest. Just when I think I have left the main territory of the danger I see a sight that makes my heart stop within me. There, less than ten feet away from me, is the beast.

I have stopped moving, I did not even realise. I am frozen – not just poised and still, completely frozen where I stand. Terror seizes me up and will not release me – too scared to move, too scared to even breathe. Like a cornered animal my body is immobilised; the sight of the creature now makes the situation too real, makes the fate all the more certain. The creature is just what I knew it to be, but I am still not prepared for the overbearing terror that infiltrates my blood. Those teeth that slaughter their way through flesh, those claws that rip out organs and turn the internal casing outward, the wolf-demon that bays for not only blood, but for savagery.

Should the creature turn slightly to the right and I will be devoured. Should it even hear the ticking of my heart or the trickle of sweat down my spine then I will be brutalised. Then I hear its sound. The noise is brief but distinct – a low growl, a muffled sound as if made through clenched teeth – the snarl made through a tensed muzzle. Its sound makes me weak but seems to break my trance just a little…I feel I could get behind the closest tree if I could get on all fours. But movement is out of the question right now, I must wait – although the time for waiting may have passed.

Then the beast lets out another demonic wail, louder than before – I find myself cowering instinctively, then, taking a chance to move while it calls to the night, gradually lowering myself to the forest floor. I lie in a thick layer of mud, ear pressed to the ground, gazing out at the creature. I do not linger here, swiftness is crucial; I gently slide my body along the floor, pulling as quietly and quickly with my arms, until I reach the foot of the tree and grasped a protruding root.

 I daren’t move for few moments; I watch the creature sniff the air around it and shake its body free of rain water. I can smell the stench of it – the overpowering stink of rotten blood matted into its fur and foul aromas surround it of hell knows what. I swallow vomit again, sickness heaving in my throat. Even half-concealed lying in a mixture of filth and sheltered by a low hanging bough, my fate is still undecided.