Vivian #3
The only real problem was that the blood seemed to attract the forest creatures, and they were fucking creepy, even if the crystal Ida gave me did force them to keep their distance.
Right on time, there was one of those fuckers now.
The fanged skull of a predator appeared over the top of the hill, a dark gray shadow cloaking its ivory bones.
Its head tilted in my direction, honing in on freshly wounded meat.
I tried to stay calm as it crawled on all fours toward me with its oddly long forelimbs.
These bastards were big. Maybe the size of a tiger?
Hard to say, it’d been a while since I’d had “zoo money”.
“It's fine. Once it notices the crystal it’ll go away,” I reminded myself while I steadied my breathing.
It continued down the slope in a beeline for me. Hunting. Then suddenly, the beast stopped around the point where I’d initially fallen. Too slippery for it, maybe?
Its skull twisted towards the ground. What was it thinking?
It took a couple of awkward steps back, staring intensely at the indent my body had made in the mud.
Weird. It suddenly skittered to the side, avoiding something.
Strange behavior, since they only displayed that sort of avoidant movement around the crystal.
Icy fear climbed the back of my neck. My throat dried. I slowly reached for my dress pocket, desperately hoping to feel the white shiny rock that kept the monsters at bay. My hand found nothing.
No no no no no no no.
The monster cleared the magical boundary and launched back in motion toward me. I was fucked.
I scrambled to my feet, only to be yanked back down by my dress snagging on the gnarly tree roots.
Panic rose in me as I snatched at the fabric and tugged, looking frantically between the monster barreling toward me and the top of the hill to calculate the distance I’d have to sprint once I was free.
My field was just over the peak; I might make it if I hauled ass.
The creature roared.
Closer.
Fuck, hurry up, Vivian!
Closer.
It’s just a fucking root!
Close.
This is such a dumb fucking way to die!
Thud.
Cool, slippery mist drifted over me, and the jaw of the beast opened. A black tongue ran over the blood streaking down my cheek. No, not blood. It was lapping up my tears. Its cackling barks might as well have been laughter.
I felt my will to live slip away swiftly, unnaturally.
Suddenly nothing mattered. My body was nothing more than lifeless flesh, unable to put up a fight.
I knew I should want to, but I couldn’t force myself to care.
My defensive position melted away, and I sank into the mud. I breathed shallow, calm breaths.
It wouldn’t be so bad if my heart stopped beating. Had it already? I watched as the monster’s tongue coiled back into a throat that didn’t seem to exist, as it reared its head back in a triumphant howl. The black abyss of its maw opened around me, and I smiled back as my vision went dark.
A grated, hellish yelp.
A slur of profanity.
Wet tearing noises.
Bones rattling.
Silence.
I briefly smelled rotting lavender before it was overpowered by an earthy, nostalgic scent that comforted me in my darkness—like opening a window to smell rain hitting hot pavement before an afternoon nap.
“Hey, hey… darling… stay with me.” The deep voice was a perfect lullaby for my sleep. Like rolling thunder in the distance, muffled through safe brick walls.
Warmth pressed into my clammy cheek.
“Is your field nearby?”
Pressure under the corner of my jaw. The faintest tickle across my lips.
“Okay. We’re breathing. Breathing is good.”
A rip of fabric.
“Stay with me. Do you feel the rain? Can you smell the forest?”
My eyes had never closed. My vision began to clear through half-cracked lids, revealing a heap of bones and charcoal viscera. The organs of what had just attacked me looked long dead. Rotten.
“Is it—”
“Oh, fuck, it’s beautiful to hear your voice. That’s a good girl. Just keep talking for me.”
I saw the blurry image of a man—gray ink striping his forearms—bending over my body.
I felt pressure behind my knees and shoulders, and I became weightless.
Warmth swallowed my side as the cold mud disappeared, replaced by body heat.
A brush of rough skin grazed my leg. The wet hair tickling my nose was swiped away.
We began to move. His steps felt uneven. Jerky. Was he… limping? Tattoos and an injured leg... Could it really be him?
Who else could it be?
My thoughts wanted to race. My lips wanted to blurt out apologies and explanations for not returning that night. My heart wanted to pound. My eyes wanted to cry tears of relief. But the realization was dreamlike and muted. All I could muster was a weak sigh of relief.
As much I'd like to pull myself together enough to ask if he was the Quadmos I’d met, I could barely think straight, much less form a coherent sentence.
It was a question for once I was in my field, settled and safe.
Recovering. I knew the best way to do that after years of struggling with Earth poisoning in New York.
“Up the hill.” I sucked in another shallow breath. “I need…”
“What do you need?”
“My cat.”