The Cinders of Dezu

0: Glass Root Elixir (4)

Slowly the business in the trees grew more and more tumultuous. Leaves were being ruffled. Scratches were made in the dirt. A whimper was heard. A twig snapped.  Micah's eyes darted about trying to make out anything beyond the light of his torch. All he could see was the path ahead and first row of trees on either side. The branches seemed to be closing in on him as though the path was bottlenecking.  He could feel his ears getting hot. Sweat droplets were beading on his receding hairline. His breathing was shallow.

He yanked hard on his reigns, attempting to make the horses stop abruptly. They turned sharply into the trees and clipped the side of the wagon. Micah heard a loud snap of breaking wood at the same time as he found himself falling quickly toward the ground. He landed on his side and rolled a bit. He lifted his head just in time to see his horses running off into the darkness, dragging their broken hitch in tow.

His eyes needed time to adjust now. As they did he realized his torch was out. It must have fallen and rolled through the dirt somewhere. He didn't feel any pain despite the ugliness of the crash. He could see the outline of his wagon wedged up against the tree he'd hit. He scrambled underneath his fractured vehicle and tried to slow his breathing.

He sat in the dark, peering out into the trees. He hoped he could see something, anything, that would give him the signal to move if he had to. He prayed nothing would be on top of him before he could see its approach. His vision settled in the dark and the hair raised on the back of his neck. He got his wish.
In the faintest of glows he was able to make out two glowing eyes. Judging by their height off of the ground and how close together they were, he knew he wasn't dealing with any four legged beast. The creature stood erect. As Micah looked on, he could see the glow was smoldering like coals at the bottom of a campfire. The eyes hadn't found him yet. It was time to go.

As quietly as he could, he slipped swiftly out from under the wagon. He realized he had hovered a bit as he did. The eyes were searching. Micah, on his feet now, lost visual with the glow as he was now eye level with his broken wagon. He backed up slowly. First step was quiet, just soft dirt beneath his toes. The second step back encountered dead leaves. Not much sound. The third step broke a twig. Why was he doing this? He was caught now anyway. At this point, if he was going to make a break for it, he might as well pull out all the stops.

Micah's feet both left the ground and he levitated. He was inches above the dirt beneath him. This would be totally silent. If he was caught on his feet or off of them he was dead anyway. This way he would at least have a fighting chance. He hovered backwards slowly. He held his hands behind him, trying to grab for something to get his bearings. Flying in the woods was always easier above the trees and at night it was particularly troublesome. His fingers touched a tree trunk and he slipped himself past it deeper into the darkness. He hovered over the dirt road and into the trees on the other side. He was putting distance between himself and the eyes but he didn't dare move too much to the right or to the left. He figured he would stay out of the fiery line of sight if he stayed behind the wagon for as long as he could.