The Monster Within

Fate

Her head pounded, her cheek stung, and she felt frigid, the warmth from the small fire barely reaching her. She moaned, attempting to push herself up, but a wave of wooziness swept over her, and she moaned again. She heard something shift to her left, and her body sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through her. She flew forward, remembering the scene with clarity as nausea gripped her empty stomach.

She hunched over onto her hands and knees, gagging as the nausea overcame her, chills wracking her slender frame. She sat back, and more movement alerted her to his presence. Slow, timid, her gaze crept to his face.

He stared at her with no emotion, unblinking, cold and calculating. His golden eyes were strange, yet beautiful, along with every other detail of his face. A foreboding sense of familiarity struck her, but she was in no place to make the connection. Remembering how easily he'd cut down those men, she lurched away, scooting backwards through the moist dirt, until her back hit a solid force. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, feeling so minuscule in his presence. A small sob clawed its way up her throat.

All the fear she'd felt as those men had grabbed at her returned. She knew there was no escape from this foe, having seen the damage he was able to inflict first-hand. She prayed he would be merciful, and if he planned to kill her after whatever tortures he had in mind, she hoped it was swift.

She rocked herself, freezing, tears stinging the cut along her cheek, and he watched on, motionless, forearms resting on his knees, eyes cutting into her soul. The firelight danced upon his tanned skin, and her gaze followed the lines of his lithe body under his cotton shirt, to his arms thick with muscle, to his hands and long, deft fingers. He was sinister, somehow, for her instincts told her he was more dangerous than anything in this world.

But he stayed still, eyes following her rocking form, not a word issuing from his lips. She cried, attempting to keep the weakness to herself, hiding her face in her arms but still watching to ensure he made no move toward her. After a while, she felt something similar to calm and exhaustion overcoming her.

She watched the fire, wishing it could warm her as she shivered just out of its reach. Her eyes, then, fell to her old tattered backpack, resting by his bare feet. She picked her head up, anxiety choking her. If he harmed her, that was one thing, but to take what precious little she had left to remind her of her family was villainous. His shrewd eyes narrowed, and without moving his head, he followed her gaze. Her heart leapt into her throat.

Slow, he reached for the bag, long fingers wrapping with a gentleness unbecoming of his size around the strap. Standing, he grasped the bag. Hollis' eyes widened as she tilted her head to the sky, shrinking further into the dirt at his impending height. He wore shorts, his elongated calves as muscled as the rest of him and dotted with brown hairs.

It only took him two steps to stand before her, and her panic rose. Her backpack thudded to the ground in front of her, and he retreated, as silent as the hush of butterfly wings. He sat once more on his boulder, waiting.

Her heart clenched, for she desired to ensure all her things were still there, but she also felt uncomfortable under that stare of his.

Her heart won the battle, and she rifled through her pack. Bible, Teddy, clothes, map, matches, coat. Everything was still there except her pitiful knife. She felt her shoulders relax a fraction, and though she wanted to don her jacket and hold her bear tight to her chest, she was too self-conscious to do so under such superior scrutiny.

"You will die, tiny woman. Tonight will rain."

She jumped, fear pumping through her veins at the deep tenor of his voice, his words low with no inflection.