Dominick sleeps the entirety of the next day and night, only waking up every so hours to eat and falling unconscious once again. By the time he has the strength to go back to his normal life, he only has 8 days left to find out just what did Arlequin meant by "Dead Fields".
The angel lays peacefully on his bed, its body filled with cotton and its little handless arms crossed on top of its heart. Like it was guarding all the precious things he had found across the years, here in the only place out of the forest where he had felt safe.
At least a little.
On the morning of the third day, Dominick repeats part of his routine.
He awakes when the sky is barely brightening, fleeting memories of dreams about red hair and mismatched eyes, about snow and blood leaving his mind, but filling his heart with adrenaline, with anticipation.
His parents leave and he gets up to make food for the rest of the day.
A heavy breakfast, a lunch that will taste good cold, a light dinner that will be easy to pack.
He fills his backpack with all that he needs.
Water, food, flashlight, knife.
And then he's off, in search of the next battle ground.
People watch him as he passes by. They judge every step he takes, glare at every breath he takes. They all know who he is, but no one tries to stop him, no one tries to talk to him, even when he's walking towards the outskirts of town and not to school.
But, strangely, he feels nothing.
None of that hurt, of that fear and shame and anxiety that used to surround him every time he walked these streets. He can feel none of that.
The euphoria of running with the beasts of the night, of having the lives of angels under his fingertips, of impressing someone who's presence alone makes the world brighter and wilder has carved a place for itself inside his heart. It has planted itself like a seed and grew roots right at his core.
Their eyes -empty, made of plastic, of glass. Death, like those of his preys- can't reach him when Arlequin has given him an invitation.
Among all the fields that surround the town, one of them is dead, one of them is the home of something, something that The Hunt wants.
One of them will be the next hunting ground.
He walks every single one. It's winter and there are no crops, they are all, technically, dead. But he knows none of them is the one he looks for.
They aren't truly dead; he can see that now.
The earth still breaths, the grass still moves, grows and dies as it should, the wind is still sweet and free, still moves where it wants.
It still has life in it.
Finally, when he only has two days left, Dominick takes a single step into the endless vision of rye, and he knows.
This is the place.
The ground shakes under his feet, the wind turns into a sharp and angry cry, the air stinks with the smell of blood, the day turns into night and the moon turns golden.
And in a second, everything's back to normal.
Dominick looks at the white cross surrounded by flowers at the edge of the field with the highway, at the many more that almost cover the entire outer side.
He feels the plants shake, still alive even when it's already winter, controlled by something that doesn't belong there.
He tastes the air, salty, heavy, dead and he can't hide the smile that parts his face.
He can't help the small giggles that escape his mouth, can't contain them with his hands.
A Dead Field, with mementos of motorcycle crashes, of car accidents and run over people all over it. A field of forcefully alive crops kept going by something unnatural. A field that reeks of blood, or fury.
And he can already feel himself imagining.
Oh, what will the prey be this time?
What?
What could be hiding in the tall and infinite columns of yellow?
How different will this creature be?
Will it be just as empty? Its body merely a decoy for its true insides?
How will its heart be?
How will its bones be?
How will its organs and flesh be?
How will its eyes be?
Will they be clear blood?
Will they be made of plastic? Of Ice?
Or will they be full of life?
H̴̨͉́̋̈́̌͂̌ͅͅę̴͈̙͔̥̦̎̌̓̄̋̚ ̴̦̓͜͝c̷͙͖̳͖̻̀̃͐̊ȧ̷̢̘̣͗̿͂́͜n̶͙̾͆͝'̴̬̥͉͈͇̅̈́̾̚t̵̰̰̹̉̋͘ ̸̟̻̈͒w̴̜͖̹̘̥̽̄͐̊̎a̶̧̠̭̭͔̅ì̷̧̱̯̊̃t̴̼̘̗̕
YOU ARE READING
The Wild Hunt
RomanceTrapped in a home where he doesn't belong and surrounded by a town that views him as a freak, Dominick finds solace in the forest outside of his small town, becoming little by little one more of the creatures in them. But when he traps something he...
