Hellbeast

1

1239 words

•———————•

Running on an empty stomach was never a good thing. Running through a dark forest was worse. Being chased in a dark forest at midnight, completely lost, is practically the worst. Horus didn't know how many perpetrators there were. If they had weapons, or if they even knew who he was. But one thing for sure was, they were after him, and he wasn't going to try to converse with them and ask why.

Eventually you get sick of running. You get sick of always being on the move, always hungry and tired. When was the last time he'd had a full eight hours of sleep? Hell, even two hours would be a gift. Maybe if he weren't so damn hungry, he could try to think of a plan, anything other than running and depleting his last remaining energy. But no, he could barely breathe, let alone think. And besides, running was the one thing he was actually good at.

Maybe if he were lucky, he'd trip and fall over a rock and get devoured by a wild boar. or the heavens would decide he'd suffered enough and bestow him with the mercy of being struck by lightning, agonizing, but death nonetheless. Finally, he reached a narrow river. The red water coursed, and the ground pumped steadily, as if a giant heart beat underneath the river bed. without a second thought, he jumped over the water and plummeted onto the other side, rolling to a painful stop.

The hunters wouldn't dare cross the red river, much more dangerous things lurked on this side of the land. Now that they were out of the way, he had much bigger problems. The fae were merciless creatures, humanoid beings with tilted eyes and pulsing golden yellow veins. They weren't like cute storybook fairies- no- they despised being related to those cute fluttery little things. Fae were bloodthirsty beasts that used their magical powers to subdue their prey and feast.

Thankfully, Horus knew how to deal with them, as he had done a few times before, and they were now a bit more used to him. At least more than other people. He hadn't destroyed their enchanted circles, so he should be fine. Maybe. He lay there, wheezing, struggling to pull air into his lungs. It burned like hot coals, breathing, so he stopped trying to, and just held his breath, allowing his heart to calm down before he sighed into the cool nightly breeze.

The bushes in the tree line behind him rustled then parted, and bare feet padded to where he was. A face peered down at his and he rubbed his eyes to try and focus them. "Oh. you're not dead." Why did the voice sound happy? Did it want Horus to be alive? Alarm bells sounded in his head, but he couldn't move. Instead of commenting, Horus looked up at the figure blearily, not being able to clearly make out its face. Had he been even remotely conscious, he would've jumped up and ran faster. But he couldn't even move let alone talk, so he just drifted off involuntarily.

•———————•

In the odd chance Horus managed to catch a few minutes to himself to sleep, he rarely dreamed. His dreams were always so especially saturated. Sometimes he'd wake up chuckling, other times with a smile. Although rare, they were appreciated. In his dreams, he was happy. And rarer than dreams did he have nightmares. Sleep was fluid, it could last forever and feel like nothing, or last a minute and feel like days. A difficult thing. A warped perception of reality.

When Horus opened his eyes, he was in a field of grass. No flowers, no trees, no animals. A snowy field devoid of any life except for him. His dreams weren't like others. When Horus dreamt, they were usually premonitions, or glimpses of the future. Mostly small things. like, he'd bite into a sandwich one day and get a strong wave of deja vu, only to briefly recall having dreamt of this exact moment of time. He didn't dream about warlords or important events, just sandwiches and stuff.

So, imagine his surprise when he saw blood starting to get rained down on the white snow, staining the blankness with shades of red. A blood bath, in the most literal form. Something was going to happen soon, maybe a war, and it was going to be bad. He got up quickly, looking around, and when he blinked, there were soldiers laying dead all around him, the grass was now dead, snow piled on top of the corpses, crests from different tribes draw on different men, clad in different armor and colors. The nations were going to wage war. 'war. war. war. war.' Horus woke up.

•———————•

He opened his eyes, breathing deeply, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling in horror. His body was stiff, his heart racing, his hands balled up, and his mouth dry. Slowly, he willed his muscles to loosen up, and sat upright. He studied his new surroundings, noticing the warm colors of the room. Was he in a fae's house? They tended to decorate in cooler  colors, and their homes always felt cold and unwelcoming. Surely, if a fae had found him, he would be in a cell right now, awaiting a presence with the prince, since the king was too busy for such squabbles.

He knew this because he had dealt with it many times. Quietly, Horus pushed the overly warm covers back, and swung his legs down onto the cool wooden floor. He crept to the door and pushed it open silently. Maybe if he was lucky, he could grab his things and escape before he became some creature's dinner. The room itself had none of his belongings, so he wandered out stealthily.

The house was decorated nicely, there were hand painted figurines and sculpted bits of wood on shelves, and paintings signed by the same person, seemingly also made by the same one who lived here. the wallpaper had flowers and other foliage, and there were oddly knit carpets with colorful designs and tassels sticking out on each end. All these handmade artifacts reminded Horus fondly of his own childhood home, where his mother would sit him down after lunch and teach him to carve.

Now the only thing he carved was hunger into his stomach. The pain struck him suddenly, and he slumped against the wall to try and force it away. This was not the time. He had to run. There was no telling what kind of evil lurked inside these light pink walls. As if to argue, his stomach actually growled at him, and Horus thanked the stars there was no one around to hear that embarrassing display of shame. Maybe he thanked them too soon, though.

His senses sharpened as the pain dulled, and he became aware of bandages on his knees and thighs, as well as on his hands traveling up his arms, to his shoulders. They were carefully placed, and fresh, so he had been there either long enough for the person to have just placed them, or longer, because they might've redone them. Either way he needed to leave pronto. The hunters were most likely gone by now, thinking they were leaving him for dead, and with his current situation, maybe he would've fared better with humans than whatever the hell was in this house.