An exhale, an intake and another exhale. The figure that drew this breath was entirely unaware of his surroundings. The sudden intake and exhale of visible air that rushed into him and then escaped from the confines of his lungs revealed that it was either heated from his withdrawal or the area around him grew extraordinarily cold.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. A slow, shuddering gasp and a step forward were the boy’s answer to his current situation. He was lost in a forest in a forsaken land with no map, no compass, no stars and unfortunately, no hope. The surrounding foliage was thick with cackle-like chirping and the sound of a steady pitter-patter of leaves falling and hitting the ground.
Something moved quickly and adeptly within the murky darkness – something that hunted and stalked him. To the young man, it was unnatural, wrong and undeniably upsetting.
Suddenly, a loud thud was heard behind him as the youth weaved between the strands of strangling vines, broken branches and blackened brambles. The sound, to most, would be comforting, as it would suggest that whatever was chasing, fell and immediately stopped in its path. But in this case, the young man halted in his tracks as he stared at the earth in front of him and blinked once.
Hesitantly, the young man turned his body and peered off into the darkness, unblinking, breathless and trembling. Within the hollowed glade, a massive silhouette of black writhed against the ground and immediately shifted with a slight groan that echoed through the wood.
The figure felt the immediate, heavy beat of his heart throb against his chest, as if the organ tried to escape its cage. Sputtering about, the figure twisted himself around as he slipped into the mud that he had slowly began to sink in. With a shudder, the young man clawed his way to his footing and began to dart off into the woods at breakneck speeds or at least, he felt like it.
The figure had felt the fire burn through his legs long ago, yet did not stop sprinting until he reached the edge of the wood – the border that separated himself from his pursuer.
Once he felt safe, the young man glanced out to the open field that was more marsh than plain and a grimace was given when he finally realized that the fire that he felt in his right leg was not from his muscles, but a dark pool of crimson red that began to grow and spread along the once-clean leg of his blue robes.
Gulping deeply with a rise and fall of the apple of his throat, the young man slipped a finger to the blackened stain and immediately yelped out in pain as the digit found the gash.
Withdrawing the torn gloved finger revealed that the blood reached from the tip to the second joint of his index finger. Somehow, someway, he was able to run on this injury.
Surmising that the adrenaline rush from being chased through the wood allowed him to survive, the young man began limping through an arching gateway of branches that to him, served as the gateway to the forest.
Quietly, he slumped onto a moss-covered patch of earth and whispered to himself in the darkness and pressed his fingertips onto his red tome and looked desperately towards the very exit that he just moved from.
A bloodcurdling shriek broke the silence that had descended over the man. The sudden sound of what was thought to be branches breaking and crashing was heard in the darkness as whatever pursued him, no longer did so.
Seemingly satisfied, the young man ran a finger across the tome and sighed lowly. With a grunt, the novice pressed his back against the tree that he slumped against and pushed himself up to a stand. Finally safe, the figure limped off and closed his eyes as he thought of his happy place among paperwork, books and scrolls. The scent of crates, musty books and the shop. Oh, how he loved the shop.
