NOTUM: Study Of A Nightwalker ✔️

Rustle

🚩Warning🚩
Chapter contains graphic scenes that some may find disturbing.

•°*°•

Barry.

Firenze knew that he had heard the name somewhere. He felt weightless and calm; conscious of the wet moss against his back and the throbbing in his neck. But his hands and feet continued to lie numb under the weight of another body. Whatever adrenaline was left fine-tuned his ears to pick up the soft humming of a sweet voice. His heart thudded erratically and panic seized his mind again.

He was bitten, on the threshold of death. Helpless, in a forest. His mind was hallucinating of werewolves, demonesses, Neil and a psychotic man.

The gentle swishing of a skirt on the undergrowth attracted his attention, keeping pace with strong footsteps, making him freeze. The rhythm was hypnotic; a beat for a dance.

Tap, tap, rustle.

Tap, tap, rustle.

He felt himself drifting off, the fear was the only thing keeping him awake.

The male voice from earlier laughed and whistled approvingly.

"You look lovely today, my dear."

A woman's giggle was heard, it echoed and faded away. The woman's unusual laugh had yanked him back to reality, or whatever this was now. The metallic stench of blood filled his nostrils as Firenze felt his throat becoming increasingly dry.

The man chided her,

"He looks no better than the last few it had brought, but that doesn't mean that he won't do. Stop being so judgemental."

A swish was the answer. He swallowed, hoping that his loud breathing wasn't heard.

"You need to feed it, my love, we can't have it damaging the materials, now can we?"

Swish.

"Normally, I wouldn't have allowed errors, but as a reward, I might as well spare its life. Now run along, I believe that there is a lot of ground for you to cover."

The woman seemed to hesitate, the swishes of her skirt were anxious, her forced breaths were audible. Her feet crunched the fallen leaves beneath them softly, as if she didn't really want to leave.

The male cleared his throat, refusing to let her stay any longer. She let out a sigh, her steps much louder, her skirt brushing against the bushes and its rattle fading into the midnight wind.

The forest fell silent almost immediately. No crickets chirped, no owls cried, no nocturnal beast called the moon. Even the trees stood still, as if in waiting.

The footsteps were heard again, this time ending to his right. He felt a hand caressing his face, evaluating him like a prized animal. The hand smelled of metallic copper, and was smooth as a marble floor. His breathing slowed down, and the hair on his face stood up in response. He prayed for someone to save him from this.

He felt the man's breath on his face, and instead of simply warming him, it seemed to sear his flesh. It smelled of his dinner; cheese, meat, cereal and various spices.

A pang of hunger burst forth in him. His gastric juices ignited immediately at his breath. And they were restless, begging him for something to digest.

Oddly, he felt pretty irritated now, and fear that had paralyzed him previously gave way to rage. Maybe it was the hunger, or the guy's annoying cologne. Something in his gut told him that the guy had a pretty big bank balance. He spoke in an amused tone, his voice was deep and had an unusual accent,