She looks fervently, eager to find the source. The animalistic noise had been close, too close for her to miss it. It was either within her range or nearly there.
Dustin's restrained tone echoes off the steel walls. "Filly, you see him?"
"Nothing." Filly fights the urge to shake her head, steeling her gaze forward. "Not yet, anyway." The earlier quiet had become like a taut bow resting heavily on a violin's strings, waiting for its chance to play a note. The precipice before its downward stroke can be felt in the loudness of its imminent song.
It's deafening when she leans into the feeling. A moment in the arms of stillness and she realizes that she can use it, make it a tool to serve her purposes. The silence grows until it starts to produce its own sound. It fills her. It swarms her. It becomes her. Embracing the ring in her eardrums from the absolute languor is like flipping a switch. She can see so much clearer. It's so broad and yet so defined. But it's so much.
Bright white is sharper at the edges. Nothing like the typical vision of the naked eye, but so improved from her days at the lab, forced to depict the cool, splotchy images they made her watch. Even the cyanotype environments are refined, becoming fuzzy silhouettes with a sense of dimension. It's like a topographical map has formed in her retinas, separating her depthless vision into three dimensions. She can see the small mound in the center of her yard and she knows it's their bait. She views the muculent quadruped's muscular humps and thick skin glued tightly to its near-average bone structure. She can see how far it is, its toes dodging the umbrella of the lone streetlight that reaches longingly for the night sky.
The dastardly beast has a skeleton that resembles a canine all the way up to the neck. Above the shoulders, the spine plugs into a shallow dome. The cranial bone could not be called a skull by any stretch of the word, curbing before it could even begin to surround the brain. The Demogorgon hadn't allowed her any breathing room in order to examine its inner structure, but there was no need for that right now. She can see everything like it's through a wide lens. She need not glance about incessantly, only allow the panorama to soak into her mind. If she were a painter, she would equate it to taking a step back and looking at the full form of her creation.
"There." Filly grabs the sleeve of the teen looking out the grate at her side. The filtering of white noise into her conscious sneaks up on her, fading into her senses gradually. She points through the window, identifying the horrid little beast. "It's right there."
As soon as she says it, Lucas's high-pitched alarm reaches them. His voice cracks when he repeats the words "ten 'o'clock" as if it's some sort of warning, his fright apparent. Like her, he had spotted their enemy as it stalks the presumed prey. With her powers unengaged, she can see the oppressive green of Dart's skin, glazed by a mucilaginous exterior. In its face, the Demogorgon's mouth had been reproduced. She can see each barbed tooth inside of its sectioned maw. Fog had settled in the yard, making everything dull and blurry to the ones with only their eyes. She was faint with the effort, drained succinctly by the newfound strength of her ability.
"Look," Filly commands, straightening her index finger to indicate Dart's location. At the very edge of the yard, the monster inspects from afar. "He's there."
A hand to the side of Filly's spine warms her from the point of contact. With Filly kneeling on the bench seat, there's little room for the other teen to stand at her rear. Steve leans very little weight into her, gently cupping her upper back to peer through the window and the metal grate that girds it. The curly-haired boy squeezes in on her other side, opting for the seat adjacent.
Dustin and Steve zero in on and scrutinize Dart's skulking figure. "What's it doing?" asks the youngest.
"I don't know." The other teen shakes his head imperceptively and glances at the dark-haired girl. "Filly?"
YOU ARE READING
Black Beauty- Steve HarringtonxOC
RomanceShe can't recall what horses look like, not until Brenner presents her with the novel. The front is dark, the color of moss and night. Slivers of gold shine in the fluorescent light of her gilded cage. He never knows that what he gives her is hope. ...
