Goretober 2024

13~Hunted~

TW: eh, pretty tame.
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In this form, my legs can carry me far, and it's easier to run through the thick piles of snow with so much height to work with. 

They're chasing me.

Between the pine trees, weighed down by packed snow, I flee as fast as I can. My distinct blue nose twitches from the snowfall, flakes melting on its warm surface, and my damp fur sticks out awkwardly in some places.

They hated my nose, and now everything else doesn't meet expectations. I'm a weird mix of reindeer and human, and that's wrong.

Their angry voices echo from behind me, giving chase even in these conditions. I'm filled to the brim with fright, and tears threaten to fall and soak my muzzle.

They don't understand. I didn't ask to be this way. I didn't mean to be this just because I was hungry.

An ear-piercing whistle flies past, nicking my cheek before it embeds itself into the bark of a tree up ahead. An arrow, it appears to be, and the fear only grows stronger. I want to change back. I don't want to be like this anymore. If I'm smaller, then I can hide better and get away, but my body isn't responding to my desperate wishes.

I openly cry, hiccupping as quiet as possible and trying not to bring any more attention to myself than I already have.

Another whistle makes itself known, starting faint until it's all that I can hear. It pierces my back, right below my shoulder. I inhale sharply and release a pitiful whimper. Each movement jostles the arrow, and it forces me to run in an uncomfortable way that's sure to tire me out faster.

In the dead of night, the humans keep pursuing, unwilling to back down. They call me horrible names that I never once considered myself to be. The most said one is MONSTER. 

I'm not a monster... I'm not.

I screw my eyes shut, running blindly for only a second to pull myself together. I'm not a monster, I'm just different.

The arrows kept coming, soaring down from the clouded sky. For the most part, I can avoid them, or they're so off course that it's not an issue, but still, a couple more stick into my flesh and become a part of me.

Hot blood scorches down my back, a stark contrast to the melted snow freezing my coat of fur. The pain keeps me awake and alert, but it also causes me to stumble and swerve at inopportune times.

For the hundredth time in my life, I wish to be normal. Normal and loved by someone, anyone - I'm really not feeling particularly picky in that regard.

I try to drown out their shouts and focus ahead; weaving, leaping, and skirting is all that I can do. Eventually, I'll find a sanctuary, or maybe they will finally give up on me, but until then, I'm stuck as hunted prey.

Hunted, weakened prey that feels and thinks too much like a human to be considered a reindeer, but acts and looks too much like a reindeer to be considered a human.

A monster - by look not heart. However, who can really look past these looks to fathom the heart?

All I can do is run and hope I don't get killed like a monster.