A Wilder Woods

Within moments she dove into the cover of the tree. Convinced by nothing other than the sound ringing from where she just came. Something sinister and alive. She gazed down at her calf, trying to focus her vision through the heavy beating of her heart. Pounding through every inch of skin. She saw her calf in all of its glory. Bloody and raw, boasting two perfect cuts parallel to each other. Surgically precise and just as deep. They seemed to glow with how bright red her blood was. It occurred to her she’d never seen that much blood, much less from her own body. Even more disturbing was what she began to picture doing such a thing.

It was all becoming blurry. She was in a parachute cord tangle danging from trees now wounded hiding in the brush from an unknown assailant. The time to step back and search and find survivors or figure out where in the world she was - a luxury. A luxury she couldn't afford. That was made painstakingly clear when a hand (not of her own, shockingly) laced around her mouth and turned her around. Pressed her tight to a tree. Tired of screaming but no were near submission - she took a swing. Her body was so drunk and high on adrenaline that she didn't even aim. She didn't even know she could throw a punch. But satisfaction roared through her when she sunk that fist into something soft and released her from the hold.

She spun on her heels so fast that she nearly toppled over. Fumbling over roots and leaves watching as something fell to the earth with a thud. Which turned out to be a boy, down on the ground, with his hands in the air and a ruby-red bloody nose.

“That was completely uncalled for, Anya!”

He spoke.

She stared dumbstruck. Staggering backward like she was the one who just got slugged in the nose. “What did you call me…” She began, tripping over her question as he rose to his feet. He seemed unphased.

“Anya. It's your name -” He paused. Face turning somber. It seemed so aged with emotion and knowledge, a single scar balanced under his left eye. Seemed older than dirt for him looking about eighteen. “Oh,” He whispered now. “They must’ve got you already.” He said it so matter of factly that the confusion didn't hit her for a few moments.

“They?” Anya tested the word, slowly. Not liking how vague and terrifying it sounded. Not quite wanting the answer.

“Not important.” He stuck out his hand. “Alexi. It's good to meetcha.” The boy smiled weakly.

Anya found it almost comical how disaster struck every time something seemed to lull. When she could speak or think or let her guard down even a second. She supposed, in hindsight maybe a warning would have been beneficial. Something along the lines of: ‘hey I'm pretty sure something is chasing me,' but no. She had barely reached out a trembling hand to accept his when that thing came flying at them. Hurling through the trees it seemed to spawn right in front of the two. She felt the abrupt contact on her chest like a freight train tunneling through her. Stapling her to the ground before a scream even left her lips.

Alexi reacted quite fast. Thank goodness - because he football style tackled the creature off of her right as the snap of jaws sounded above her head. One second late and her face would have been entirely rearranged. Anya rolled aside and sprung to her feet - gaze tracing the movement of the boy and the creature tumbling through the undergrowth.

It seemed to be the size of a black bear. Look and shape of one too, distinctly a bear. Through hard heavy breathing and cursing and shaking Anya tried to make it out. It was a bear, she knew what a bear looked like. Impossible to mistake but something was wrong with this picture. Something was horribly wrong. Which was beginning to seem like the new trend lately.

The first obviously different thing about this bear was its face. A bit too long but extremely thin. Starved. Teeth longer than usual and eyes a bit sunk. Alexi thrust something deep into its side - piercing the ribs. The bear screamed like a coyote and shriveled to the ground.

“Alexi!” Anya gasped when he ran to her and grabbed her by the shoulder. Purple-ish red blood sprayed across his shirt. “Are you -!” Her eyes darted back and forth from the dying bear-think to Alexi.

“Fine!” He laughed, and good grief it sounded so out of place. “Those things are all over out here. Scary as it gets but easy to take on.” He handed her something, thin and light but she hardly noticed. Dazed beyond comprehending anything but his words. Staring like an idiot when he strung a bag over her shoulders.

“See that fort on the hill up there?” He pointed, and when Anyasimply blinked at him he put his fingers on her chin. Turned her head to the low ridge not even two miles away. “Meet me there. I’ll explain everything.”

She snapped out of it right then. “You're not coming?” The words came out more desperate than she meant. Alexi only smiled.

“I’ll meet you.” He hesitated, as though wanting to say more but considering just how much to tell her. “I have… your not…”

Anya’s mouth went entirely dry when he finished. When his words reached her brain. Of course, she should have seen something like that coming - but the blow nearly knocked her off her feet. You're not the only one. Only survivor. Alexi had said.

He gave her one last look before completely disappearing. Like a ghost that was never there, the only trace left behind? A belly-up bear with a knife in its flank. And a girl, terrified, but desperate.

Anya turned and locked her sights on that fort. A glimmer of hope. A home for answers - at least it better be. She walked cautiously across the field and without another look, took off running.

Faster and faster until her feet went numb.