Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Suspense,
Literature & Fiction,
Thrillers,
Mystery & Detective,
Horror,
Mystery,
Mystery & Detective - General,
Rats,
Horror & Ghost Stories,
Fiction / Horror,
Horror - General,
Animal mutation
eyes. "Don't worry. It really is just a precaution; nothing's going to happen. If I thought there was any real danger I'd make you put the whole suit on here and now."
"I hope to God you're right."
So did he.
"Over there, the other side of the pond." Jenny pointed towards the opposite bank and Fender scrutinized the area. We'll have to go round," he said. "Get a closer look." The tutor wasn't happy about the situation, but nevertheless she followed him as he skirted the pond, their boots sinking into deep mud at the water's edge. As they walked, he pulled on the heavy gloves and told Jenny to do the same.
The undergrowth was much thicker on that side and he trod warily, brushing aside foliage and examining the ground before him as he went.
Jenny kept close behind.
"It's just a little way ahead, I think," she said, looking over towards the side they had just come from to check their position. "Look, you can see where they disturbed the reeds when they climbed out."
Fender approached the spot with even more caution and crouched down to examine the mud for tracks. The splayed claw marks told him what he wanted to know. "Let's see where they lead to." Keeping low, he pushed his way through the undergrowth, but soon he stood upright. The tracks have run out too many fallen leaves, I'm afraid."
"I want to go back."
Fender turned to study the girl. She stood there, body stiff, eyes shifting uneasily from left to right. Her face was drained of colour.
"What's wrong?" he asked taking a step towards her.
"Can't you feel it? The forest the forest is standing still."
The remark puzzled him, but as he looked around he began to sense it too. It was an eerie sensation, for the forest had become quiet, hushed, the normal chatter of birds, the discreet rustle of timid animals even the sound of the breeze hissing through the trees were gone, leaving an unnatural, foreboding silence. It seemed to weigh down on him, a heavy thing. An oppression.
"Let's go," she said again, her voice very quiet.
Fender was reluctant, despite his unease. "I've got to find some evidence of them, Jenny. Those tracks back there could have been made by any number of animals."
She knew he was right, but the anger still flared in her eyes. She was about to reply when a sudden crashing of branches made them both jump.
Fender scanned the area ahead, looking for the cause of the noise, and he saw the swaying bush, its thin branches weighed down by something that must have fallen from the tree overhead. The object looked like a red scarf, but from the way the bush was sagging, it had to be something heavier than loose material.
He made his way towards the bush and Jenny said, "Don't," but he ignored her. She followed, not wanting to be left alone.
Fender swallowed hard when he realized what the object was. The animal's body had been torn apart, its insides exposed and half-eaten.
The rising steam told Fender the creature had not been dead long.
He felt the girl's presence beside him and heard her breath sharply drawn in. "It must have run up the tree to get away," he said.
Whatever did this followed."
"Rats climb don't they?" Her voice was faint.
The Black rat does."
Only the animal's head and tail were intact, its fur shredded and covered in blood. He tried to identify it from the pointed skull and dark markings on its tail.
"It's a stoat," Jenny said, and she walked away, round to the other side of the tree.
Fender looked up into the branches overhead, suddenly aware that whatever had killed the animal might still be there. He found it hard to believe a rat could have done this, for usually the stoat was the hunter. But then a group of giant Black rats could tear a human to pieces. Jenny's sudden cry startled Fender and anxiety swept through him when he failed to see her.
He crashed through the undergrowth, brushing past the bloody corpse which fell from its resting place, and swung round the tree, one hand resting against
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