Hunter Prey

eight

"You had me worried sick, Orla." She frowns, and I can tell by her expression that she really was. I mean, her wrinkles are showing. She's twenty seven, mind you.

I sit up, grimacing. "What exactly..happened?" I ask her. She juts her bottom lip out. "What do you mean what happened? We went out to get sticks, I turned around for one second, and you were gone! I spent hours looking around for you, and by the time I returned to the cabin, here you are, smelly and laid on the couch." She crosses her arms.

I frown.

She sighs, shaking her head. "Let's..move on from this, okay? You go take a warm shower and come down afterwards, I made some lasagna." She murmurs, ruffling my hair, grimacing when a sharp leaf nips at her finger.

A few minutes later, I find myself staring at the wall of the shower, mindlessly running my fingers through my long locks, pondering over whether whatever I seen earlier was real or not.

Was I hallucinating? I doubt my imagination is that strong.

I could've been food poisoned from the pizza, the other night. But I feel and felt completely fine.

Could it have been some freakishly tall man dressed in a costume who so happened to be ambling around in the forest?

I purse my lips.

Halloween isn't for a while.

I'll push that idea to the back of my mind. What could it be? If it was some creep they'd done something horrible. Though, I do remember very faintly the words uttered before I lost consciousness.

"It..not hunt se-son."

It's not hunting season? My mind races miles per second as I attempt to sum up a reasonable, realistic conclusion.

I find none. Other than that I was hallucinating and somehow made my way back to the cabin.

I let out a soft exhale, shaking my head, as I finish bathing in the sprinkles of soothing water engulfing my senses.

I step out, wrapping a fluffy grey towel around my torso.

The very, unfortunately, familiar sensation of being watch hits tenfold, and I have to force a shuttering breath to neglect it.

The blinds are already shut, anyway.

I brush the bristles of the wooden brush through my damp waves, coiled with moisture, my flushed lips pursed as I study my appearance in the foggy mirror.

After changing into a pair of plaid pajama pants (baby pink), and a matching tee on top with a pair of mangos on the front, I make my way downstairs, relishing in the smell of hot and ready lasagna.

There's already a movie playing on the tv, the only lights on the ones in the kitchen and a few smaller lamps every other place.

Thankfully the curtains all closed.

Thankfully.

I wouldn't know what to do if I felt the sensation of being watched one more time. I'd probably go nuts.

After a silent supper, immersed in the fantastical movie playing on the large screen, Cece lets out a soft yawn, stretching her stiff limbs.

"I'll go knock out early. You come wake me if you need anything, kay?" She pats my shoulder gently as she waddles past, wrapped around in a cozy blanket. I smile and nod. "Gotcha."

Once she's gone, I stand up and go into the kitchen, searching the fridge for one thing and one thing only: ice cream.

Strawberry, in fact.

I put a few large scoops into one of the white ceramic bowls, taking a spoon and going to plop onto the couch.

I lazily search through the movies, and I can't help but glance at that one from a day or so ago without any reviews or anything.

It seems interesting enough, and im in the mood for something new. At least, something, anything that peaks my interest.

The title nags annoying with the words..whatever it was, murmured to be previously. I shake it off, but I have a sinking feeling that it'd come back to bite me later.