miistwalkers:
Nothing stepped within Autohaven’s boundaries without ITS knowledge.
Some tried to sneak within the shadows of the desolate graveyard ( towering mausoleums, the ghost of snapping bones in passing ) under THE HOUND’S nose, thinking themselves clever, intelligent fools falling to the hand of arrogance. Such was the case of this interloper. Her light step could be admired–a hunter in her own right, she knows the tactics of stealth and patience–but the ATTIRE painted different picture; loud, squealing association, the visage of wilderness and ferality mixed into tangled strands and the face of PREY worn over unknown features. It stalks with ease ( bright red doesn’t blend with Autohaven’s cool tones ) and holds when need be, but it would not be long before the obstruction of a mask isn’t enough to conceal shifting form. Contemplation whether or not to hold and let paranoia pass.
No need.
The coxcomb brings the bell’s ring into elevated realm, leaving the material to question whether it had phased back into this world or not, but there is no doubt as to what ignited rubber with a warm glow–the bright flash of orange as camouflage melted into the looming form of the Hound, a beast whose gaze settles knowingly.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
She had not imagined it, the fucking air moved in the shape of a person. No -- a thing.
The sound of that bell dropped a weight into her squirming guts.
The Pig’s heart raced. It drummed so hard she feared that it would burst clear through her chest. The hot breath which reverberated inside that prey animal mask sounded like that of a howling, fearsome gale. There was no way that she was being as loud as her mind told her. She needed to get a grip. She needed to think. The Pig’s fingers flexed and brushed the grass, its green strands threaded between her digits as she sought to anchor herself to the ground. Her breathing slowed, but just barely, and the thought of finding springs and hinges dissipated from her mind.
The Pig steeled herself. She closed her eyes for just a second and was frightened to open them. She had to move. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, racing to each corner of her body within seconds. Escape.
Boots pressed softly into the grass and propelled her toward a desolate truck. The coarse rubber of the tires dragged beneath her fingertips. She listened for anything but could only hear her own heartbeat in her ears. Amanda’s mouth was dry, hanging agape beneath that mask. A quick glance as she reached the hood. The thing was tall and broad-shouldered and its face, she was unable to tell if it had one by the time she had turned away.














