On The Moors


I’m hunted. I can feel it in the air around me. My back feels hot, as if it were a red-hot ember in the dark, leading on the Unwanted, the Deadly.

My skin crawls as I feel a single pair of eyes seeking me out. They are ruthless, unending, and cut through the dark. I cannot hide, I will not escape.

Out onto the moors I ran. Willing the mist and shadows to hide me

Aaarrrrrooohh!!” It calls, a jagged voice carried most fowl upon the wind.

Out onto the moors I ran, willing the mist and shadows to hide me. But it is vain, I am lost. Back in my home, back next to my fire I left them. Tools most precious to my existence, key to my survival and it’s demise.

Splashing and snapping, it must have already reached the marsh I just passed.

It’s getting closer, I need to get to the water.  My feet slip over wet stone as I hear the thing. Long panting breaths raise the hair on my neck as it sucks air down its snout. I close my eyes seeing its jagged claws as it slashes a path through dense foliage and brush.

It can smell my blood, my fear.

My foot steps into a cool current and I slip down, down into a deep pool.

Aaaarrrrooh!!”It calls, knowing prey is near.

Water swallows up my head, filling my open eyes.

All I can do now is wait.

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