I Am the Reaper

Friends and Monsters

Three

~Friends and Monsters~

I can't remember the last time I've felt the rain. The sun has taken refuge behind a blanket of clouds, snuffing out the blinding light. The last few rays that have managed to penetrate through are shielded by the a thick deluge of water.

The ugly, bruised sky is a welcomed sight.

I don't like the sun.

I pick my way over a fallen log, needles jabbing into the soles of my feet, but I don't care. I don't care that I'm soaked or that the rain mingles with the red sheen until it looks like blood and water are mixing together. My hair gets in my eyes and sticks to the sides of my head. The dirt has turned to mud and it squelches between my toes but it's all distant. I don't pay attention to any of it, save for the occasional noise around me that cuts through the downpour; the rustling of a bush. The snapping of a twig. It all makes me whirl around, so suddenly that I almost slip and fall over. I feel like I'm in overdrive, too aware of every little thing. I'm all instinct; all reaction. I'm a bomb and one wrong move will set me off.

I don't know how far I walk and a small voice nags at me that I'll lose my way back, but something else tells me I won't. After all, it's not that easy to misplace a mountain.

Anyone just beyond those doors is your target, I think back to the suited man's words. Target. It's not much to go by so I don't really know what I'm looking for.

That is, not until I actually come across it.

I hear the woman before I see her. Footsteps that should be quiet are much louder to me. It's almost like she's asking for the forest's attention. It hurts my head and I count to keep the headache at bay. I watch the wet area warily.

Then I see her; She holds a cloth over her head, blocking out the rain as she moves over the forested terrain. Bare-footed. Petite. Your task is to bring me back someone. I don't care who, so long as they're human.

She doesn't even see me coming. I wait behind the trunk of a tree as she passes and taking her down is almost painfully easy. I trip her and grab her around the waist, wrestling her against the ground. She fights, of course. She tries to buck me off and a scream bubbles in her throat but my hand over her mouth keeps her from releasing it. I feel her teeth work against my palm, fighting to bite me, but I just hold her jaw in place. I grapple with her hands and, using my free one, I pin them tightly behind her back.

The cloth has fallen off in the scuffle and I yank her back, until I can see her clearly.

Wide eyes meet mine, rounded in terror and it doesn't make me feel guilty or ashamed. It makes me feel powerful, and I'm rejuvenated by this girl's fear. That she's afraid of me.

Good. She should be.

The red tint fades for a moment and I pull her closer, until I can see the fingerprints embellished in the blue paint across her face; I can clearly make out the viridescent stars in her emerald eyes. Dark braids fall around half of her face, the other tied up in an elaborate spiral that I'm surprised has held in place.

Shallow breaths saw through her lips and she tries to push me away but I'm too strong for her and we both know it. My hand squeezes her wrists tightly-painfully- and her wriggling only makes it worse. She figures that out after a few more times. Her body suddenly slumps against mine in defeat.

"Chei," she says. At first it's just a whisper, but it grows more insistent, until she's repeating it over and over at my feet. I don't have to speak her language to know she's pleading for her life.