Umm... So... I was bored and was at writing camp a month or two ago... Came up with this... So...
Enjoy :)
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Slow, shuttering, magical- the song of the forest.
A stag leaps forward and the hunt has started. His followers are distant behind, faces smeared with blood that is not animal and voices wild with nonsense words. The stag runs, runs, runs, his hooves beat faster and faster. Even if he wanted to stop he couldn't, he could never stop running, not until he escaped these savages, not until he was home free, not until-
An arrow shoots out, wild, crazy. The aim is crooked. The stag's muscles tighten, his hooves beat faster, but then he hears... Nothing. The wild screeches are gone, his body is frozen in time. A creature, strange and shimmering and unlike anything the stag had ever seen, loomed from the bushes, moving slow, swirling back and forth. It was a mist- no, a too-low cloud- no, a breath of foggy air- no. No. It was alive. It was alive and it had the stag under its spell. It whispered words the stag did not hear, could not hear, for he was already dead. The thing just liked to have fun with its pray before it swallowed it whole.
It tugged on its limbs, stretching the stag to his limits, until at least one leg shifted out of socket. Something about the pop that the movement made excited the thing, and it couldn't help but consume the stag, seeping over the limp and deformed body, a shadow of silver against the dark of night. The thing started to move again, out towards the ocean, letting out the terrible screeches again.
It was my turn to die.
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~Elizabeth
