Status: fin.
Love Like Winter
eight;
Aurora could not seem to run in a straight line. She was constantly tripping over herself, her wet clothes snagging on tree branches or just weighing her down in general. Her hair was stringy and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew the biting wind was going to give her a cold. But she couldn’t care about that right now. Right now she could only care about the fact that her…tour guide had just turned into an animal. Or part of an animal. She couldn’t be certain what she saw, just that it was bad and that she had to get away.
Everything had seemed fine. She and Aiden were having a…startling great time and she somehow was under the impression that something a little more than fun was starting to happen. But maybe that was just the way his eyes seemed to glitter with the water reflected in them…then the girl from Urban Culture, Isabelle…her name was. She was there and she was snarling like a monster and then she was a monster.
Somehow Aurora knew that this had to do with her, and even if it didn’t she had to get out of there. She backpedaled faster than she thought possible once she saw fur start sprouting from Aiden’s spine. Now she was running from monsters that should be imaginary, and god she hoped they were. She prayed for more than anything that she had wondered into a patch of poisonous plants before they had decided to jump in the water and it was causing her to hallucinate.
The sun glimmered from between the treetops, canopies shadowing the light. It wasn’t enough to see easily through this forestry, and Aurora tripped on a log and fell, a woodchip spearing through her palm. She cried out, holding her hand up to inspect and nearly gagged at the sight of the blood bubbling up and running down her forearm. Blood was not something she enjoyed seeing, it was thick and too red.
Ignoring the pain, she cradled her hand against her still damp chest, and tried a steady jog instead. Before she could’ve sworn they were chasing her, she had envisioned hot breath on the back of her neck, teeth just barely grazing her bare calves. She even swore she could feel the bristle of fur on her skin, but as she glanced behind her she could see nothing. Just a cluster of leaves shifting in the wind.
She took a step forward, her eyes still behind her and crashed into a sturdy form. She cried out once more, immediately expecting to turn and meet glowing eyes and bared fangs but merely turned to face a bearded man in a flannel shirt. She didn’t miss the backpack slung over his shoulders or the picket axe he held in his hand. Axe murderer.
He gave her a onceover, and she wondered what he must have been thinking. A blonde girl looking terrified and like a wet dog alone in the woods. What could that mean? Though his eyes seemed to immediately fall to her chest, and she wanted to hit him, the pervert. Then he reached out with his free hand, and as she was about to cry out he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand forward.
“You’re hurt,” he stated, examining the still bleeding wound. She blanched momentarily, caught off guard by the sound of his voice. She was still feeling utterly panicked over the fact that she had just witnessed…whatever she had witnessed. If she could confess to him what she saw without sounding like a complete lunatic she would’ve, but somehow he didn’t leave room for conversation. His eyes met hers and then he sighed, putting the picket axe in one of the empty pockets of his backpack, his free hand still wrapped around her wrist. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”
She should’ve been alarmed by the fact that a burly man was whisking her away to god knows where. She certainly should’ve been alarmed over the fact that there were monsters chasing her, but all she could do was stumble along after the man in front of her. She could only follow and pray that he was the huntsman here to save her from the big bad wolf.
Everything had seemed fine. She and Aiden were having a…startling great time and she somehow was under the impression that something a little more than fun was starting to happen. But maybe that was just the way his eyes seemed to glitter with the water reflected in them…then the girl from Urban Culture, Isabelle…her name was. She was there and she was snarling like a monster and then she was a monster.
Somehow Aurora knew that this had to do with her, and even if it didn’t she had to get out of there. She backpedaled faster than she thought possible once she saw fur start sprouting from Aiden’s spine. Now she was running from monsters that should be imaginary, and god she hoped they were. She prayed for more than anything that she had wondered into a patch of poisonous plants before they had decided to jump in the water and it was causing her to hallucinate.
The sun glimmered from between the treetops, canopies shadowing the light. It wasn’t enough to see easily through this forestry, and Aurora tripped on a log and fell, a woodchip spearing through her palm. She cried out, holding her hand up to inspect and nearly gagged at the sight of the blood bubbling up and running down her forearm. Blood was not something she enjoyed seeing, it was thick and too red.
Ignoring the pain, she cradled her hand against her still damp chest, and tried a steady jog instead. Before she could’ve sworn they were chasing her, she had envisioned hot breath on the back of her neck, teeth just barely grazing her bare calves. She even swore she could feel the bristle of fur on her skin, but as she glanced behind her she could see nothing. Just a cluster of leaves shifting in the wind.
She took a step forward, her eyes still behind her and crashed into a sturdy form. She cried out once more, immediately expecting to turn and meet glowing eyes and bared fangs but merely turned to face a bearded man in a flannel shirt. She didn’t miss the backpack slung over his shoulders or the picket axe he held in his hand. Axe murderer.
He gave her a onceover, and she wondered what he must have been thinking. A blonde girl looking terrified and like a wet dog alone in the woods. What could that mean? Though his eyes seemed to immediately fall to her chest, and she wanted to hit him, the pervert. Then he reached out with his free hand, and as she was about to cry out he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand forward.
“You’re hurt,” he stated, examining the still bleeding wound. She blanched momentarily, caught off guard by the sound of his voice. She was still feeling utterly panicked over the fact that she had just witnessed…whatever she had witnessed. If she could confess to him what she saw without sounding like a complete lunatic she would’ve, but somehow he didn’t leave room for conversation. His eyes met hers and then he sighed, putting the picket axe in one of the empty pockets of his backpack, his free hand still wrapped around her wrist. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”
She should’ve been alarmed by the fact that a burly man was whisking her away to god knows where. She certainly should’ve been alarmed over the fact that there were monsters chasing her, but all she could do was stumble along after the man in front of her. She could only follow and pray that he was the huntsman here to save her from the big bad wolf.