Interface

Mara

The man is dead, the girl has run off to who knows where, and I'm fairly certain that I saw a snake.
Joy.
I sigh before scrambling to my feet and taking off in the direction that the girl ran.
Her trail is easy to follow, with broken branches every seven paces, a trampled rodent or small reptile every sixteen or so paces, and crushed grass pretty much everywhere. Plainly put, the only way she could make this easier for me to follow her trail would be if she carried flares and ran about screaming like one of the tweak-brains back in town.
Sadly, however, there is no sound to indicate her present position, so the best I can do is follow her trail blindly, hoping that I find a clue for where she is.
Finally- about twenty minutes into my dazed wandering, I hear her sobbing loudly, and I whirl around, trying to get a fix on her location before the crying stops.
Unfortunately- and unsurprisingly- the crying stops, leaving me stranded in the pitch black field in the middle of nowhere.
I notice another person's footsteps a few paces in front of me, and I realize that they're my own footprints. This isn't a good sign.
I've been going in circles, or one circle. Its hard to tell in the dark, but it looks like more than one person has followed my tracks.
Hollow laughter echoes through the fields, and the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. Old man Striker used to tell me stories of how juvenile Other people- when they are still too young to lure humans to their dens using disguises and tricks- will attack smaller creatures, then torment them to gain a sense of power over another being.
It isn't much of a stretch for me to imagine that one such adolescent has tired of playing disgusting games with their previous victims, and has graduated to bigger prey. I hope this isn't the case, because- if it is- then I am said bigger prey.
I catch the barest hint of movement out of the corner of my eye, and I lash out in that direction with my pipe, hoping to hit whatever is following me.
Unsurprisingly, I don't hit anything, but the frantic rustling in the surrounding dry grass tells me that something potentially less than human is stalking me... perhaps its looking for an easy meal.
I'll show them that I will NOT be a victim! If they want to make a feast out of me, then they'll have to fight me first!
The rustling gets closer before moving to the trees above my head, and I ready my pipe in case my pursuer decides to make a move.
The noises grow  more frantic, and I hear the pained shriek of a dying animal being butchered.
Then there is the unholy sound of flesh being reduced to paper-thin slivers of little more than skin, bone and muscle, in an impressively short amount of time.
Blood pours down onto my head and face like a  warm shower of Winter Ale, a delicacy back in town, and I feel like barfing when some of the liquid gets in my mouth.
This is NOT how I ever imagined my life turning out, but I guess that- with unusual times, unusual events must be expected at some level.
But showers of blood falling from the canopy?
No. Thank. You.
The hollow laughter rings out again, and I pity whatever it is laughing at, because I assume that the creature is the previous owner of all the blood soaking me.
The rustling takes off in the direction of our untended fire, and I feel a nagging tug in my belly as I wonder whether or not the girl has wandered back to the fire.
If she has wandered back to the fire, then that means that the predator is headed her way RIGHT NOW, and- since I doubt it ate anything from 'blood fountain', it is probably still very hungry.
The girl's plump belly would provide the creature with a no doubt filling meal, but the mere thought of the girl ending up in that monster's belly is enough to make me want to scream.
I'm not sure why I feel so strongly about the possibility that the girl will end up dead, but I do.
I take off in the direction of our campfire, hoping to arrive in time to stave off any potential disasters that may cause her harm.
By now the fire has all but burned to embers and I see no sign of the girl's silhouette in the dim glow of the embers.
The rustling has tapered off, and the embers are so disturbed that they lay across the clearing like cheap imitations of the stars.
The noise returns, and I become aware of hot, moist breathing that sounds from right behind me.
All of the natural warning signs in my head are going off at once, and I fight the urge to run and never look back. Instead, I choose to focus on the sound and tempo of the breathing
It sounds as though the owner of said breathing has been running underwater, and hyperventilating while running. That is the only explanation that would make even an ounce of sense, but no living thing- certainly not of the human variety- could accomplish such a feat.
I slowly turn around, making certain that my eyes remain closed so that I cannot see whatever creature may be standing in front of me.
The thing lets a wet laugh slip free, and I feel slimy fingers drag down the left side of my face.
" have you seen my baby?" the thing croaks, and I shake my head no.
I want to scream and fail because, for one, EWWWWWW. For two, AAAAAAAAHHHH!!!
I think that the creature is one of the Other People, but without any visual evidence, I probably shouldn't kill them.
I open my eyes and swing the pipe at the same time, and I have to force myself to not throw up.
The creature has bulging, milky eyes, that appear to nearly fall out of her head, and her skin is too big for her, and appears to be sliding off of her bony frame.
Another odd thing about this thing is that cold, black liquid is sliding through the folds in her skin. I shudder at the thought of what the liquid is, and where it originated.
The creature lets loose another watery laugh, which allows a few semi-fortunate snails to escape the maw.
This time, I do throw up, and scrunch my eyes shut.
The creature starts gurgling loudly, and I risk opening my eyes in order to see where the thing's current position is.
The unfortunate answer is that the thing is barely a pace away from me.
I swing the pipe hard, but the wretched beast dodges, and momentum causes the pipe to make impact with one particularly dense patch of coals, and steam rises as some rust burns off of my pipe.
I briefly worry that the burning rust will destroy the pipe's viabilaty as a weapon, but I soon remember that burning coals have little chance to melt the copper.
I swing the pipe back, hoping that I can make even the barest hint of contact.
Because she is so frail, it seems as though a strong wind would be enough to subdue her, but I know that looks can be deceiving when the Other people are involved.
The pipe grazes her shoulder, and I nearly throw up when a large strip of her skin tears off from the rest of her torso and falls to the forest floor, revealing a thin layer of black ooze with snails sliding through the watery muck. Presumably, they have anchored themselves to the muscles and bones of the old woman, and are having a field day swimming in their host's bodily fluid.
The woman screams in fury and agony as her skin is ripped aside, and I nearly feel bad as I land another pipe-blow to her emaciated torso.
The entire skin of her chest and stomach- from clavicle to hip- shred like thin paper- and falls to the ground like a discarded roll of cloth, and I force myself to hold back from being sick yet again at the loathsome spectacle of the knotted muscles that protect her organs atrophying at an unearthly rate.
This exposes her grey entrails, which are also enveloped by a ungodly amount of snails, but these snails are lighter, have smaller bodies and shells, and look overall fresher than their already-escaped brethren.
The woman collapses to the ground, and I gag when what seems like an endless supply of snails crawls forth from her body.
I run back into the protective embrace of the woods, newly determined to find the girl.
No sooner have I entered the woods though, when I trip and fall forward, landing on an exposed tree root that is rather sharp- as I find out when it makes a cut in my forehead.
The cut stings badly, and I grit my teeth against the sensation. I won't give up on the girl so easily.
If she gets hurt, I will never forgive myself for letting it happen.
I need her to be safe.