The Monster Within

Hunted

She looked out the front screen door, breath catching in her throat as a man clad in all black rode into view. Behind him, poor Winston followed. Hollis' eyes wet with more tears, thinking she'd never again see her family's horse. A tingling of premonition crept over her, like busy ants hustling to and from their hill. She sensed the change in the woods. They'd never crawled with so many newcomers before, but now her once-safe haven was ruined. She felt something more ominous was happening, but she wasn't sure just what, yet.

She ducked into the kitchen as the man dismounted, his face tanned more than a leather hide, his eyes pale as a river stone.

"Hallo!" he called, voice higher than Oberon's. Her instincts wanted to send her flying back into his arms, for she'd seen the brutality he was capable of. No foe would ever best him, and Oberon seemed rather fixated on her. He mounted the steps, peeking into her home, a congenial smile plastered to his face. Behind him, Winston walked himself to the paddock in search of hay.

He removed his black, wide-brimmed hat, holding it to his chest, everything about him calm and gentle. Had Oberon lied to her?

"I didna' mean to frighten ye, miss," he said, flashing her a grin. She gripped the edge of the counter, heartbeat thundering in her ears.

"I was just passin' through," he turned his torso, nodding to his massive ebony draft horse, before he continued. "And I am in some desperate need of food and drink. Damn horse spooked and threw my rations."

Hollis' mouth opened and closed like a shutter on a stormy night. Invite him in, she remembered.

"Oh, umm, come in, sir," she rambled, feeling the tremors of dread wracking her body. He gave a small, patronizing smile, nodding to the door.

"Seems I'm locked out, miss."

"Oh," she jumped, spurred into frantic action, trying hard to keep a cool demeanor. The wind played in the trees above, the air refreshing and tickling her nose the closer she got. Reaching up, she plucked the small chain from its spot, pushing the door toward him and open. She didn't realize her fatal mistake.

Leaning out as she was, he reached in and grabbed her, yanking her down the porch and into the open, his arms hard and thin and bony. She kicked, gasping, at an utter loss for words or pleas. He stunk, like dirt and sweat, and despair gripped her tighter than he.

Wrapping his bony fingers into her hair, he gave a sharp yank, forcing her gaze to her front porch and the darkened doorway, continuing to walk them backwards toward his horse.

"Call out to him, make him come to me and I'll be easy on you, sweetheart," he breathed, breath hot and putrid on her face and neck. She whimpered, wishing she could call out to her savior, but her fear making any other noise impossible. He gave her a hearty shake.

"He's all I'm after, but if you don't make this easy..." he warned, using his free hand to produce a shiny revolver from his waist belt. He flashed it in front of her, wielding the weapon as though it were a stick instead of a gun. Hollis had never seen one in real life before, but she knew the damage it could inflict.

The front porch screen hummed, and her heart leapt into her throat. Oberon stood on the top step, golden eyes seeming to blaze, igniting the distance between them. He crossed his thick arms over his chest, glaring at the man.

"There ye are, freak!" the man laughed, shuddering behind Hollis in sickening pleasure. She whimpered again as his hold on her scalp tightened in his palpable excitement. He pressed the cold metal barrel to her temple.

"Come quietly, and I will let her go, yer a wanted freak," he spat the word again, Hollis' eyes pleading with him. He did not seem to notice her distress as he rolled his eyes, stepping closer. The man holding her tensed.