Mortem Obire

Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Hunts, hunters and wildfires

It was a matter of seconds for her to string a bow, the motions coming to her so very simply, and Harriet could only be grateful for all her training as she gave the bowstring a tug and found she could draw it well enough. Arrows were similarly as easy for her to find, though a flash of gold told her they wouldn't be quite as effective as the bronze-tipped arrows she had seen in visions before – of others who'd found camp and had acquired the weapons needed to deal with those monsters which always dogged their footsteps.

Scissors were a heavy weight in her pocket, comforting just like the black bracelet wrapped around her wrist, even as she breathed in the eerie silence which fell in the aftermath. The sounds of her own breathing filled her ears as she stalked towards the deformed door, arrow resting on the string, blood rushing through her ears as she narrowed her eyes and yanked the clawed sheet of metal inwards.

Outside, the forest loomed, dark and imposing, tree branches swaying in winds which seemed to be picking up. Dead leaves skittered across the dirt track, the shadows of the archery range deep and unfathomable. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, that sound and her breathing seeming like the pounding of a drum.

Harriet edged forwards, ready for the first attack – an attack which never came. There was no leaping figure, no flash of gold to tell her what her to expect. A shaky breath left her, ears straining to pick up even the slightest of sounds. Panic surged, part of her wondering what was going on. She was there. She was bleeding prey ripe for the picking.

Rustling in the undergrowth stole her attention, and she could only watch as a scaled, lithe body slunk from the bushes with a cat-like grace. Sharp fangs gleamed in the light, slitted amber eyes locked on her still form as a forked tongue snaked out from behind those ever so sharp teeth. The same sharp teeth which sought to end her life that very night. The same sharp teeth which would have ripped into her friend-siblings and killed them. A flash of gold confirmed her suspicions, teeth grinding together as she watched that creature feast upon the corpses of her brethren in another future.

She lifted her bow, arrow on the string ready and waiting to be drawn. Yet that creature was fast, and would dodge the arrow it would see coming towards it. Harriet blinked, mind working a mile a minute for once as her power stirred in her chest, warping the light around her arrow until nothing could be seen on her string. It could only dodge what it saw, after all. A grin curled at her lips—

Claws sunk into her back, a shriek of pain escaping her, even as instincts had her rolling forwards towards that cat-like reptile and out of the way of those claws which had raked down her back. She was on her hands and knees in moments, bow still in her stinging grip as she winced at the stickiness she could feel on the back of her shirt. Blood trickled from the deep grooves sliced into her back, breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of the second, near identical creature which had pounced on her from above.

"Shit," she muttered, scrambling to her feet in record time, even as a haunting cackle of laughter akin to that of a hyena's grated against her ears. There was more than one of them, she realised belatedly, heart sinking as more cat-like bodies slunk from the shadows of the undergrowth until she was surrounded on all sides.

Sharp claws dug into the mulch, and Harriet readied her bow, back feeling as though it were on fire as she concealed her arrow once more and readied herself to aim and fire at her first target. She needed to trim their number down. Her breathing stilled, panic coming to claw at the eaves of her mind as she wondered if that time she might have bitten off a bit more than she could chew.

"You worry too much," she had told her mother before leaving for Camp Lagoon. "I'll come back just fine – you'll see!"

Her fingers twitched, eyes narrowing on her target as she readied her aim. Like Styx she was going to break that promise with her mother. Though perhaps the fine part of her promise was debatable, given she had a clawed-up back at that moment in time. The string slipped from her fingers, her bow singing as she fired her first arrow, invisible as it was. Her aim rang true, arrow seeming to follow the creature even as it tried to duck out of the way of the unseen.