During the Dark Ages, the world was an uncertain place, especially for anyone who isn't human. In a time of strangeness and obscurity, there's only one safe place: a forest guarded by the creatures who dwell within it.
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You were running as if your life depended on it. Because it did.
He was fast on your heels, shouting abuse and demanding you stop. Stopping was the last thing you were going to do. You knew what would happen if you did.
This fellow had been pursuing you for months. You had turned him down politely, then firmly, then impatiently, then brutally, but he just wasn't taking no for an answer. This evening, he had come to your house and kicked the door in, slapping you across the face and pushing himself on you. You managed to crack him over the head with your iron and escape, but it hadn't subdued him. In fact, it had enraged him. You knew if he got you, whatever he did to you was going to hurt.
Your legs were aching and you were losing speed, looking back frantically and saw him coming hard and fast at you, fury in his face that fueled his onslaught. You screamed loudly, insisting that he leave you alone and find someone else to bother. He snarled at you and jumped, catching your legs and tripping you, knocking the air out of your lungs.
Your heart pounded in your throat as he started to climb up your body, a hand pressing you into the ground, and you shrieked.
Another shriek, far in the distance, answered.
Then, suddenly, the weight of your attacker disappeared. Through the mist of the evening, you heard his startled, pained yell echo through the trees. Then, you were alone.
You rolled onto your back and just breathed, the residual terror made your body tremble against the cold, wet grass. After a few moments, when your breathing slowed and your body stilled, you sat up and looked around. It was properly night now and the forest was oppressively dark around you, the sound completely dampened by fog and trees. You weren't sure which way your cottage was, or how far into the forest you were.
In all honesty, you really didn't want to go back to the village. Your parents died within months of each other a few years ago, after which you had inherited their little house. The people in your village seemed to think you odd, or at the very least unfriendly. They didn't understand why you wouldn't take one of the men who had been making offers for you. You couldn't tell them it because you didn't trust any of the men in your village, and after tonight, you knew had been right.
You knew how to hunt and farm, learning both from your father, and you mother had taught you how to weave your own fabric and sew your own clothes, so you never went into town for much very often. People at first had said the loss of your parents had turned you strange, but as time went on, more sinister whispers floated around, about pagan practices and communing with demons. You almost thought of taking up both, if only to see the looks on their smug faces.
Eventually, you got to your feet and started walking. You had no idea if your were going the right way, but you couldn't stay in the forest all night.
After an hour, you knew you were lost. You sat down on a rock, huffing with exertion, and put your head in your hands.
Your head snapped up when you heard a soft chittering in the trees above you, to the right. You stood, frowning, trying to see what had made the noise. When you heard it again, several feet away, you started following it.
