The moon.
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So beautiful, so frightening—the way its light serves as a guide for the creatures who live in the night—it always made me uneasy.
After all, when the moon is high, it's time to go to sleep and wait till the safety of the day comes, but things are different this night. I'm the prey of those who swore to protect me.
My feet hurt, wood and grass blades cut my fragile soles, bushes hurt my arms and legs, and my heart pumps adrenaline into my small body.
To the north, a bunch of wolves howl, the clear sign of danger, the world screaming for me to not go; to the south, the villagers with forks and torches, searching, seeking to kill.
"Find her; don't let her go far." One screams—so much hate, so much anger.
"Kill the witch." "She will curse us if she escapes; get her before she can." "Cursed child."
My heart guides me towards the north; there are no more places to go. In my backpack are some spare clothes, and in my hand is a small knife, the only weapon someone like me can use effectively.
Forest takes over my vision completely; trees and darkness are all around.
The voice of the villagers has slowly become far enough away that I don't hear their screams anymore.
Tears leave my eyes, but before I can break down, a pair of yellow, glowing eyes stalk me from the distance. I just notice when it's too late.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Red, blood, burning.
Paws pressed against my chest, teeth deeply sinking into my shoulder, my collarbone breaking at the force of the wolf's jaw.
The sounds escaping my throat were not human, more like a declaration of pure pain in all flavors to the night, a noise that serves no purpose as no one will come to save me.
The forest and the wolf understood that. Life is pain, another living thing has learned.
As my vision darkens, I feel my hand gripping tightly on the blade's handle. The wolf raises its bloody snout, a smile on its face, and growls of pleasure at having found its food.
"AAAAAH!" I scream, but this time, I'm not alone.
The wolf shrinks as the blade cuts open its stomach, but I do not stop there. My body moves—a dance of death. Using my weight, I press the beast down on its belly.
Its guts splattering on the grass; its blood mixing with mine, creating a smell and color no one should have to know of. In its erratic movements, one of the beast's claws hits my left eye and slides down my face, creating a deep cut mark.
The creature whimpers and attempts to howl, but before it can, I raise the knife high up, the moonlight reflecting on the blade, welcoming the birth of another child of the night.
I feel the blade getting stuck in the wolf's skull. The creature pisses on the grass, and slowly, its movements cease. Trying to retrieve the blade, it breaks, finding its home in the creature's brain.
I didn't cry; I didn't scream; only the feeling of the muscles on my face was felt, contorting into a victorious smile while blood rains down my cheek.
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