The Walkers

Chapter 7

Have you ever thought that a word has been programmed into our mind to give a denotation to some physical appearance, object or matter? That happened to me until now. I always thought that deer where these cute little furry animals with antlers that ate grass and hopped around like bunnies. I hope the idea of rabbits in my mind match with what I am seeing right now because, man, have I ever been so wrong in my entire life.

The body of that creature that was called "deer" was covered in a weird brownish-colored fur. I think it would even be correct to call them feathers of some sort. Those eerie-looking yellow eyes with a reptilian slit for an iris where analyzing every single movement that Christen and I were making. Those jagged teeth hid a tongue that was already licking the scales that covered the body in anticipation for the next feast. It was a bipedal being, with sharp claws that could tear aluminum to shreds, bone antlers that were pointy enough to impale a mammal (I would say horse, but... what are horses anyway?) and a long tail to balance its lightweight, that could only be described as terror itself. I think pretty much we were done.

"Stop dwindling around, Bruce, move on!" Christen basically struck her legs onto the sides of our mount. Bruce? Really? Was she treating it like a horse? What are horses anyway? Ugh. Amnesia sucks.

"Bruce...?" I asked, perplexed at the sudden name-calling, to my current partner in adventure.

"I decided to name him that! Doesn't he look like a Bruce?" How exactly does a Bruce look like? I feel the necessity to retort, but I can't in this moment. I mean, we are basically running away from a strange furry reptilian-oid-ish thing that runs almost as fast as us. Bruce is pretty swift for his complexion!

"Right...o" I could just roll my eyes around. I cannot let myself be caught in Christen's pace. She's as carefree as ever. Not like I know her for too long! I mean, it has been like ten minutes, right? I don't know. Time is a mysterious thing.

The leaves of the trees were brushing past my cheeks. This was the first time I really started to contemplate the beauty of mother nature. Jade-color blades that came out from majestically brownish trunks, the mysterious chirps of the avian creatures that inhabited those woods, the cold breeze that made my auburn hair sway with the wind, the murky soil being dug out by the brutish and strong muscles of our current mount and the scent of spring entering my nostrils were things that I was too unfocused to notice. This was truly a bliss. It would be perfect if I was not being chased by a mother-flipping terror child (bird-reptile-thing).

"Hold on tightly!" Christen broke the silence that was created due to both our escape plans and the fright that had possessed my body.

"Hold on to what?" I asked as I was almost screaming my lungs out. Don't judge me. You will be screaming too if you saw how mean-looking that thing is.

"Grab onto me! We're gonna jump!" Christen, are you serious? What are we jumping? When are we jumping? What do you mean by that? I feel so uniformed. Is there a guide or something? Oh. So that's what we are jumping. It was nice being alive for ten or so minutes. God bless the short life. Christen, know that if we survive, I'm going kiss you, figuratively speaking.