A Breeding Darkness (Complete)

(12)

Lucy tried hauling herself up onto the branch, her fingers grappling against the smooth bark, but only ended up almost losing her grip. Below her was the void, a drop of unknown height to the forest floor. Though she could see nothing, she imagined the darkness stretching into a mouth, ready to consume her. She inhaled sharply and tried not to think about the potential fall below her.

Eventually, her arms shook with the strain and her fingers went numb as they supported her weight. She struggled to keep her grip, pushing past the pain and cramping muscles, but soon her biceps spasmed sharply enough that her hands slipped off the smooth bark and she found herself plummeting into the darkness. Half expecting a precipitous fall, she was more shocked when she felt the ground slam into the bottoms of her boots. She stumbled from the shock of the sudden landing and tipped over to fall forward.

Her palms landed not on soft fallen leaves, but instead on something warm and slick. It felt disturbingly like skin. Gasping, she pulled back her hands and scrambled to a crouch. With her eyesight out of commission, she turned to her ears, listening to the darkness to try and hear what it was that lay in front of her. At first, she heard nothing but the heavy silence of the darkness, but then she thought she heard the subtle whisper of breathing. It was uneven and raspy. Not the kind of gentle breathing found in a healthy person.

Hesitant, she reached out again, her fingers reaching into the blackness, afraid of what they might touch. Her fingertips collided with something, and now she realized it was an arm as she felt along an elbow and down to a hand. It twitched in her grasp, and she slid her hand back up to where a neck was covered in something wet, and to a face with eyes closed and brow furrowed. Judging from the sharp contrasts in the bone structure, and from the close-cropped hair, she knew it was a man. But what was a man doing in Zerkalo when all the Dreamwalkers had been banned?

"Alisdair?" Lucy whispered, gently shaking the man's shoulder. "Gregor?"

She felt along his face, trying to identify him, but realized with a start that this was not either of the male Dreamwalkers. His chin was clean-shaven and too smooth to be Gregor's. This was someone else, or something else. She'd never run into any human dream creatures, but with the darkness creating such havoc, she didn't know if that was true anymore.

Lucy felt along his neck she found that he was not wearing a shirt. Her fingers buzzed at the feeling of his chest and the quick heartbeat beneath his skin as she tried to find his shoulder again.

Along his arm, the skin puckered and something slick dripped onto the ground. She drew in a sharp breath when she realized they were wounds and he was covered in blood. She grimaced and fought the urge to immediately scramble backward and wipe her hands off. She couldn't be scared off when the man was obviously bleeding badly. If she lost him in the darkness, she wasn't sure she'd be able to find him again.

Keeping a hand on his slowly stirring chest, she got up and positioned herself in a better location to feel along his body to check for any wounds that might indicate he wasn't long for this world. She found many lacerations along his torso, and also realized he wasn't wearing pants either as her hand met no fabric at his waist. She blushed furiously and stopped her search on his stomach, figuring that if his legs were hurt they wouldn't be as life-threatening as the wounds on his neck and chest.

"Sir. Sir?" Lucy tapped his cheek. "You need to wake up. We aren't safe out here in the woods like this." She wasn't sure the Denizens would be able to find them in the woods, but she also was worried about the bird disappearing so suddenly. Any creature could stumble upon them.

But there was also another reason to be afraid. It wasn't an accident that no one owned the wooded territory, and that was because even before the darkness the trees had always been devious. Trunks moved when least expected, and the ground slanted up or down to throw helpless wanderers off. Gregor had once almost gotten lost in the woods, and if it wasn't for Morrigan and her quick thinking, he might have ended up an eternally sleeping body in the real world while his mind was trapped amongst the dream trees.

Despite Lucy's warning, the man still didn't answer.

"It's not like I can pick you up," she muttered, frowning and trying to decide whether she should leave him or not. Her mission was important, and she didn't want to wait for the Denizens to show up again, but he was injured and in trouble. If he woke up in this darkness with no way of creating light, he had no chance of surviving.

As Lucy mused, the man groaned and the leaves on the ground around him rustled as he stirred. Lucy froze, her eyes wide though she could see nothing. Would he even know she was there? Should she run? She started to back up, caught in indecision, but at that moment he seemed to panic and she heard him shoot to his feet and scatter leaves in every direction.

His voice, deeper than anyone she knew, grunted and his breath came hard and fast. She heard him spinning on the spot, sliding on the leaves and struggling to keep his footing.

Lucy's hand fastened tight onto her satchel as she tried to think of anything she could use if he attacked her. She remembered the figurine of the ballerina, with its razor-sharp tutu, and kicked herself that she hadn't thought of it when she was trying to escape the Denizens earlier. Now she lowered her hand in the satchel, ready to draw the ballerina out to slash at the man or to draw across her own palm and take her back to the safety of her room.