She ran.

The sharp graveled road leaving splinters in her skin. The wind whipped mercilessly upon her bare back and a child cried.

“Hush baby,” the woman whispered, if she wasn’t careful they would hear her.

The low growl of Psi-Wolves made her tremble.

Too late.

The rush and rumble of nature untamed gave her hope as she thundered toward a roaring waterfall.

If she could just make it . . .

A twig snapped, the loud crack of dried wood alerting the creatures of the night—the protectors of these lands—that she was free. The snap of canines and the pummel of paws told her she had only minutes.

She ran faster, her long, sheer dress snagging against the gnarled fingers of trees, slipping through their hands like dripping blood. The child cried louder, as if in agony for the pain soon to come.

She wept.

Yet she never faltered.

Again and again she hit the hard packed dirt of the forest floor, beetles and spiders scattering as she shot up and off again.

The roar of the waterfall grew louder, its cry of freedom ringing in her ears. She was almost there. She was almost there.

The clamoring sounds of the forest thundered to a crescendo; even the wind itself took a breath . . .

Three wolves touched down in front of her, talon like claws digging into the muddy dirt, spraying grass and soil into the air, the pungent stench of their breath making her gag.

The baby screamed.

“You can never leave . . .” a voice whispered distressingly, its sultry voice wrapping around the women and child like cold fingers.

“You can never leave me.”

 

– Short Story Written by Jae Lei Nyght