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CHAPTER 100
-4 years ago-
Aeryn Thail

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When the night arrived, it brought with it cold, dark, moonlit anxiety. I shivered against the night breeze that gently tussled my hair this way and that. My hands had long since gone numb, and I had long since stopped struggling.

My shirt -- not made to be worn alone at night -- shifted softly in the breeze, letting icy air in. Every tree that rustled, and every shadow that moved along with it sent my head snapping in its direction, my heart leaping.

I'd managed to create the tiniest peak hole in my blindfold by rubbing the back of my head against the tree. My left eyelid worked hard to open as the cloth rested on it.

I felt like I was stuck in a nightmare and couldn't escape. The woods on their own were scary enough -- but being here, at night, stuck, alone. So truly alone.

My chest constricted. Where had it all gone wrong? Why was I so expendable? Why did nobody listen -- nobody care? My voice -- my life -- was like the air created by a buzzing insect -- small, invaluable, ignored.

I had accepted it before, and look where that led me. Crucified in the woods and waiting to be eaten.

Something rustled in a bush between the trees, and my head snapped toward it. I stared at it with my one exposed eye, waiting, my heart obscuring my hearing.

Then, a mountain-rabbit hopped out -- white fur gleaming dully in the moonlight -- and began sniffing the air. I exhaled in utter relief, but the anxiety still clung to me -- the exhausted panic. Maybe I could wait the night out in silence and hope I wasn't found, but I wasn't willing to take that risk.

I twisted my wrists and my cramped feet that were forced onto their toes. I gritted my teeth in pain as my skin went hot against the friction -- it was nearly relief for my shiving, cold form.

As I pulled and turned against the ropes, a thought passed my mind. What was I even fighting for? What purpose did I have -- what would I even miss if I died right here?

So I twisted harder. Purpose or no purpose, I wasn't going to die here like less than livestock. I was going to survive, then find out why later.

As I gritted my teeth harder against the pain, the rabbit looked at me with something of curiosity. Its nose and sides twitched in that way they done -- always alert. Yet it didn't run. Even it knew I couldn't cause it any harm like this.

"What are you looking at?" I breathed, my voice hardly reaching my own ears. It kept looking at me, and I looked at it. If only I had a ripe-root in my hands, maybe I could lure it closer and have it eat my ropes. I smirked slightly, shakily, at the furry white creature, imagining it.

Then it startled at something unseen, and went hopping away. I sniffed, my nose numb as it began to tickle against the cold. But I didn't have time to be mildly disappointed by even the rabbit leaving me, as the moonlight felt suddenly darker.

I frowned, my brows quivering slightly as the shadow above me grew. But I didn't dare look above me as something wet touched my shoulder. I wanted to -- I wanted to twist my hands and feet faster, to flail against it. But something engulfed me with a fear -- a dread I'd never felt before. And it froze me.

I shifted slightly, a pathetic attempt at wriggling away from its touch. But I kept my eyes locked onto its shadow below me, petrified.

But it inevitably came into my vision -- a thick, red tongue following my shoulder and sitting against my racing heart.

No-- it wasn't supposed to be like this. It should have been quick. I should have been dead by now -- not this.

The creature crawled down from the tree in front of me, its tongue sliding out of my shirt to come with it. My whole body vibrated intensely as I saw its face. Jagged, sharp teeth that would surely burn -- being wiped by a thick, impossibly long tongue.

It had no face -- only a mouth and blank space for eyes. It was tall-- so tall. It towered over me even as it stood on all fours and leaned down. Its limbs were lanky. Its claws were long enough to impale me length ways -- a sick imitation of ten icicles grown from its scaled hands.

My breath came heavy, fogging the air between us as it seemed to grin at me, its claws coming forward.

The air thick with dread, I somehow managed to wriggle harder, my skin sawing against rope. Then I began thrashing, even as its claw touched my stomach beneath my shirt. I had to survive this. I had to survive. I-- I.

I thrashed harder as its claw began to press slowly into my skin, its tongue licking its maw in a way that almost made its smirk a physical thing.

"No!" I yelled, pure adrenaline, anger, and fear breaking past whatever dread had encompassed me. I thrashed harder, pulling my wrists with the intention of dislocation.

They burned for a moment, along with the skin of my stomach as the claw punctured flesh. But just as I thought I might succeed -- something worse than dread washed over me. Pure, unfiltered, and undirected fear.

Black blood gushed from the soul-rippers stomach as it recoiled with a roar -- saliva mixing with sweat on my face.

A figure-- a person, was kneeling in the snow, an enormous blade dripping black behind him. The soul-ripper hissed, redirecting its attention to the man as its tongue shot out, slamming into the snow where he had been a second ago.

The soul-ripper swung around in time to deflect the blade that caught the moonlight, sending the man back. Its claw crashed into the tree trunk beside my head, causing me to jump like my heart jumped to my throat.

But its second claw hardly touched my throat before the blade spun in a circle and lodged itself into its chest. As it twisted for a brief second against the pain, the man moved toward it.

Weaponless, he ran straight toward its roaring face, narrowly dodging its shooting tongue and dropping to his side without pause. His body slid forward with the momentum of his run -- beneath its head. His arms shot out, catching himself on the handle of his weapon, stopping his slide with a sickening wet crunch.

The soul-ripper recoiled, but he remained beneath it. Before it could react, his boots planted into its chest as he forced the weapon downward, splitting flesh in a shower of blood.

He released the weapon, still protruding from its chest and dropped to the ground in time to dodge its claws that slashed the air where he would've been as it stood on its two legs.

The man picked himself up from the snow and closed the distance, dodging claw and tongue alike. He grabbed the weapon, pulling it with a swiftness that didn't seem possible against its size. It parted from the creatures chest, and in the same circular spin, connected with its head.

The soul-ripper paused, stumbling slightly as it fell to its hands. The man wasted no time. He gripped the weapon that was now in reach, and cleaved the creatures head open with a downward pull.

The snow darkened, the wind seemed suddenly crisper, and the soul-ripper crashed to the snow in a heap of black blood.