Dead Men Tell No Tales (Skulduggery Pleasant)

Red

1654- Red

The scarlet, velvet cloak clipped the back of her heels in the soft breeze,

leaves battering her face as they tumbled from the autumn trees above her.

The forest floor was dappled with leaves of auburn, brown and newer green,

but she was hidden as she walked through them; silent as the dead.

Her raven black hair lay loosely knotted on her shoulder, despite the wind,

gathering in one mass.

She stopped abruptly and held up a hand to the breeze, feeling the essence

around her; tracking, surveying.

She wasn't alone.

A soft whistle of a tune licked the air not far off from the clearing and

her stance shifted to one of a great carnivore; its jet black fur ruffled

and coarse, turrets of soft wind running down its back like a wave. It

growled softly, a playful smile dancing in her great amber eyes.

Man Blood.

She sank back on her haunches and then she ran, branches missing her body

mass as her agile and skilled sprint weaved its way through the trees and to

the figure in the distance.

She slowed and moved into a stalking position, skirting the edges of the

clearing. A low growl developed in her gullet as the figure stiffened,

turning to the eyes of the beast.

The last eyes that poor man would ever see.

She pounced, a word too lightly used for its deadly effects. Screams echoed

throughout the forest before the man fell silent, his carcass mangled and

bloody from the work of the beast.

The girl changed back to her original form and bowed her head, breathing

hard and licking her lips clean. A transitory smile formed at the peaks of

her reddened lips and she laughed softy, her hunger met at last.

She knelt at the foot of the once crippled man and surveyed the knife in her

fingertips, watching her reflection dappled with liquid scarlet. Carefully

she took the arm of the man and carved four letters into his skin in linked

calligraphy.

She twisted in the leaves beneath her feet and scattered the undergrowth

with droplets of blood from her drenched, red cloak.

And with that she left the clearing leaving only the soft leaves, her prey's

carcass and a message to her hunter inscribed on the only evidence.

'Red x '

----

The clean swipe of the axe slid like lard into the block of wood as the

seven men approached, treading softly in the withered leaves of the forest

floor. The wood cutter wiped his forehead clean and let the blade lie as the