quietness?
One of the hunters is a young man. His hair tied back. He is behind the others. Three men are with him. One is sitting on the stump of a felled tree. He is examining his boot. The other two lean against trunks, waiting. They have a dead rabbit, but that is all. I pause a few yards away and peer at them from behind a tree. The youngest is the boy with the hair tied back. He is the only one listening to the woods around them.
I watch. He slowly turns his head and looks at me. I smile. He has seen me. But it must be too dark for he doesn’t react. He didn’t see me after all. One of the other men speaks to him.
“Draven, rabbit’s yours.”
The boy shakes his head.
“Don’t play games,” the man says. “We’ve got a system. It’s your turn.”
I step closer. Games? Games with a dead rabbit? I’ve never heard of this game. I can’t remember any games, though. I don’t know any games. Maybe the hunters can teach me.
The man on the stump sighs. “My boot’s worn clear through.”
“Hello,” I say but none of them seem to hear me. I try again, louder this time. “Hello.”
“My brother left me a pair that might fit you,” one of the men continues.
Why can’t they hear me? The boy they called Draven is looking my way again. His eyes are so dark they seem like they are made of night. I tilt my head to the side and wonder if he sees me. He steps over to the others. “We need to move,” he says.
The three men pivot to look at him. They rely on his senses more than their own. One withdraws a knife. Draven’s eyes flick in my direction. The others tense.
Oh dear. They know I am here but are afraid. I must try harder.
“Hello,” I say again, as loud as I can.
“Something’s watching us, all right,” one of the men says, readying his crossbow.
“You think it’s the beast?”
“Could be.”
Beast? What beast? There’s a beast in these woods?
I run towards the men, towards the safety of their lanterns. I am not careful. I snuff out one of their lights. I didn’t mean to. One of the men shouts. They aim their weapons at the woods. I step up behind one.
“I’m sorry,” I say. He stares ahead and starts to move in towards the others. I rest a hand on his shoulder and am about to apologize again when he screams.
I let go. He jerks away. The others point their weapons at me. I am frightened. So frightened that I can’t move.
“Something grabbed me!” the man shouts.
“What was it?”
“It was me,” I shout. They can’t hear me. I step towards the lamplight. I reach out my hands to show I have no weapons. I can see my scars in the golden light.
They see me now. But only the ugly part of me. They shout and one throws a knife. I leap into the air and latch onto a tree trunk. An arrow whizzes past my head. Is this the dead rabbit game?
I don’t like it. They are screaming to kill me. I scurry up further. Fire burns in my shoulder. I am paralyzed. The boy with the crossbow shot me. He hurt me.
I am sad. So sad that I shake. He hurt me. The men all want to hurt me. They are not my friends after all.
“Did you get him?” one asks.
Mean men. Mean. Mean. Mean.
I scream. My shoulder hurts. It hurts so much that my strength is fading. I draw energy from their lantern. It snuffs out, leaving them in darkness. It isn’t enough. I can’t hold onto my body any more. I scream again as I fall. I never hit the ground. I have no body.
I zip through the forest. I huddle in the corner by the fireplace. The hunters hurt me. Why would they hurt me? They weren’t my friends. I am empty and cold. Cold. Hollow.
Then she fills me. I can do nothing to push her out. She is amused by me. You will never be one of them, she coos. You are mine, darling. Stay where you are safe…
Safe, yes, I am safe here. Nothing can harm me. Except for her. Then she feeds. I hardly have anything left to give. But still she takes. Until all I am is quietness.
Tristan pulls his forehead away from mine.
One of the hunters is a young man. His hair tied back. He is behind the others. Three men are with him. One is sitting on the stump of a felled tree. He is examining his boot. The other two lean against trunks, waiting. They have a dead rabbit, but that is all. I pause a few yards away and peer at them from behind a tree. The youngest is the boy with the hair tied back. He is the only one listening to the woods around them.
I watch. He slowly turns his head and looks at me. I smile. He has seen me. But it must be too dark for he doesn’t react. He didn’t see me after all. One of the other men speaks to him.
“Draven, rabbit’s yours.”
The boy shakes his head.
“Don’t play games,” the man says. “We’ve got a system. It’s your turn.”
I step closer. Games? Games with a dead rabbit? I’ve never heard of this game. I can’t remember any games, though. I don’t know any games. Maybe the hunters can teach me.
The man on the stump sighs. “My boot’s worn clear through.”
“Hello,” I say but none of them seem to hear me. I try again, louder this time. “Hello.”
“My brother left me a pair that might fit you,” one of the men continues.
Why can’t they hear me? The boy they called Draven is looking my way again. His eyes are so dark they seem like they are made of night. I tilt my head to the side and wonder if he sees me. He steps over to the others. “We need to move,” he says.
The three men pivot to look at him. They rely on his senses more than their own. One withdraws a knife. Draven’s eyes flick in my direction. The others tense.
Oh dear. They know I am here but are afraid. I must try harder.
“Hello,” I say again, as loud as I can.
“Something’s watching us, all right,” one of the men says, readying his crossbow.
“You think it’s the beast?”
“Could be.”
Beast? What beast? There’s a beast in these woods?
I run towards the men, towards the safety of their lanterns. I am not careful. I snuff out one of their lights. I didn’t mean to. One of the men shouts. They aim their weapons at the woods. I step up behind one.
“I’m sorry,” I say. He stares ahead and starts to move in towards the others. I rest a hand on his shoulder and am about to apologize again when he screams.
I let go. He jerks away. The others point their weapons at me. I am frightened. So frightened that I can’t move.
“Something grabbed me!” the man shouts.
“What was it?”
“It was me,” I shout. They can’t hear me. I step towards the lamplight. I reach out my hands to show I have no weapons. I can see my scars in the golden light.
They see me now. But only the ugly part of me. They shout and one throws a knife. I leap into the air and latch onto a tree trunk. An arrow whizzes past my head. Is this the dead rabbit game?
I don’t like it. They are screaming to kill me. I scurry up further. Fire burns in my shoulder. I am paralyzed. The boy with the crossbow shot me. He hurt me.
I am sad. So sad that I shake. He hurt me. The men all want to hurt me. They are not my friends after all.
“Did you get him?” one asks.
Mean men. Mean. Mean. Mean.
I scream. My shoulder hurts. It hurts so much that my strength is fading. I draw energy from their lantern. It snuffs out, leaving them in darkness. It isn’t enough. I can’t hold onto my body any more. I scream again as I fall. I never hit the ground. I have no body.
I zip through the forest. I huddle in the corner by the fireplace. The hunters hurt me. Why would they hurt me? They weren’t my friends. I am empty and cold. Cold. Hollow.
Then she fills me. I can do nothing to push her out. She is amused by me. You will never be one of them, she coos. You are mine, darling. Stay where you are safe…
Safe, yes, I am safe here. Nothing can harm me. Except for her. Then she feeds. I hardly have anything left to give. But still she takes. Until all I am is quietness.
Tristan pulls his forehead away from mine.
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