A howl ripped through the clear air of the moors, followed by a grating, fearsome snarl that made her feel like the monster's hot, rancid breath was blasting down onto the back of her tender, exposed, vulnerable neck. She could hear its stealthy steps creeping up behind her, tracking the bitter smell of her terror...
She whipped around, expecting to see a hulking, humanoid beast, to lock eyes with the wild golden orbs she had spotted stalking her, as it prepared, with a savage glee, to rip and tear her delicate, pink flesh, to spill her red blood and desecrate her remains; but she didn't. Instead, the white beam coming from her stuttering torch sliced through shadows and mist, illuminating leafless, skeletal trees standing sentinel around the deepest, darkest secrets of the labyrinthine, untamed tangle of the forest before her. She relaxed slightly, and flicked her dying torch off. She closed her eyes, hoping to readjust to the blanket of blackness surrounding her quickly.
When her eyelids inched upwards, she saw that the gigantic, glowing full moon had coated everything in a silvery glow. Everything, including the enormous silver wolf creeping towards her with its jaws parted in an evil snarl with a long string of saliva dripping, oozing from its maw. An involuntary squeak escaped her, and hot, salty tears streaked down her face. Her bag slipped off her back with a thud and landed on the damp, dewy grass of the moors. The girl sobbed in fear. She found herself stumbling backwards as the hellish wolf slowly paced towards her.
Her feet collided with a mound of earth and she fell. Dread paralysed her and she curled into a ball when she realised she could not flee. The monster loomed over her, a fiend sent from the fiery pits of Hell itself. Saliva spattered her cheek, landing on and near her pale, bloodless lips. As she licked it off in a reflex motion, a coppery taste assaulted her. Not saliva. Blood!
Pain overwhelmed her as the wolf viciously ripped into her arm, ragged fangs piercing her soft, tender flesh. Agony took her and she blacked out.She woke up in her bed. She was pale and clammy, sweat beading her forehead. Her right arm reached to the side and flicked on her lamp, illuminating the room. She slowly sat up. When she locked eyes with her reflection in the full-length mirror, she struggled to breathe.
Red specks decorated her cheek. Her irises glowed golden. A large bite mark oozed blood all down her trembling, weak left arm.
The swollen, bloated moon hung lazily in the dark, midnight sky, and a faint, joyful howl drifted in through her gaping window. It came from the ominous, misty moors.
YOU ARE READING
Savage
Historia CortaFirst and foremost, I should just say that I was feeling... morbid when I wrote this. I don't normally write this sort of story. So, please just keep that in mind. As always, constructive criticism is welcome, but no hate please. Thank you!