I never cared for anyone so much. I was born with a bomb inside my gut.
There is something that follows.
She can feel it.
Like breath hot against the shell of her ear.
Her heart stutters, weary, in the cavern of her chest as she moves. And she moves because there is some broken thing in her brain that says she’ll be all right if she doesn’t stop. It follows without any real sense of urgency, seemingly content simply to trail her. If she stopped and turned and looked maybe she’d be able to make out its shape in the darkness. But she does not stop. Cannot stop.
Her breath comes thin and fast and she trips once and then again, catching her toes on gnarled roots that rise up out of the dirt like snares. For a time, she is aware only of the sound of her breathing and the frantic beating of her heart as she picks her way through the forest. She does not have time to be careful. She can feel it inching closer. It is closing in on her.
Once upon a time, she might have called upon her father’s voice for comfort. She would have imagined the sound of his laughter, would have remembered the way he would have kissed her head and held her close against him. He would have told her there was nothing to worry about. He would always be there to protect her. But she hadn’t allowed herself to think of her father since she’d thought she’d caught sight of him in the meadow.
Even if she was still in the habit of thinking of her father, it is already too late. Panic has gripped her in a way that she cannot shake. It rattles in the marrow of her bones, wraps a white-knuckled fist around the meat of her heart as she staggers toward the edge of the forest.
She’s almost there now.
She can feel the thing nipping at her heels. Or perhaps she’s merely imagining it.
She draws in one great, gasping breath as she breaks from the cover of the trees and surges out into the open. She sees him, though he is several yards off. There is a flicker of recognition, clouded by her bone-deep fear, before her brain pulls him into sharp focus. Her friend, Velkan.
“Velkan!” she cries – not in happiness or even relief, but in terror. Because she knows that it has almost caught up with her now. Because she cannot tell if he turns toward the sound of her voice before the thing is upon her.
lilian
@[Stalag] @[Velkan] im ready