Noele_504
Legacy Name: Noele_504

That was it. The last words she'd heard from her Nana -- before
the sudden uproar of panicked shrieks and unintelligible cries and loud clattering and before Nana's last scream was abruptly cut off in accordance with the sound of ripping flesh. Nana's windpipe, torn right out of her.

She was in the next room. She was in her bed chamber when it happened. She was wary, asleep. She was groggy when she awoke to the terrible screams. Her eyelids were still droopy with slumber. Nana... was just having another one of her night terrors... She assumed simply. Sleepiness overruled her instincts.
Something was not right.
Even sleepy and wary, she could feel it -- the looming menace.
It was all too awfully familiar.

*

It was noon the day before. Nana's night terrors had gotten worse. The old woman looked young again when she slept, her russet skin -- smooth and emanating warmth -- she looked at peace; But things happened when she slept. She had always been superstitious. A believer of old wive tales. She believed in all the darker ones -- sometimes, she was even afraid of her own shadow. But most of all, she feared of wolves. A fear so real to her that she set her grandchild's curfew exactly past noon, when the sky turned a powdery yellow, before the procession of sunset.

*

Earlier than past noon that day, she had been hailed inside by her grandmother, who looked more skittish than usual. And then she remembered -- tonight, the moon was perfectly spherical. She'd ignored how Nana's hand shook as she heated up the stew. She ignored how Nana's usually strident voice were merely small croaks, how the only words she'd said were simple "Yes" and "No"s. She'd ignored how, strangely, Nana hadn't begun blaring about how "Today is the day." and how "We must take extra caution bolting the door." and how much of a "foolish child" Elodea was when she hadn't listened to her. Instead, she just had the unfailing, familiar glints of apprehensiveness and fear in her hazel eyes.

*

That night, she had the same dream. She was inside the cabin she called home, except everything was pallid white. There was a strange musky scent in the air. Her eyelids flutter and she gets out of bed, awoken by the strange creaking coming from the cozy little living room. Suddenly, she hears the door swing open, and a sudden gust of wind rips through the house, shaking its feeble foundation, taking her aback. Suddenly, she's running. Running towards the opalescent living room, but to her dismay nothing was out of place, just as always. And just as always, consciousness begins to kick in, except this time, she sees a flash of something somewhere in between consciousness and unconsciousness. A glimpse of a large creature, its gaping jaws revealing ribbons of saliva and razor-like teeth, its yellow eyes -- deadly with a sort of insidious desire.

She woke up in cold sweat, hot tears blearing her vision, still heavy headed with slumber. She woke up to a shrill shreik.

Nana... was just having another one of her night terrors...
She thought to herself.

*

That was when she bolted upright and ran. When the door suddenly swung open, when the sudden gust of wind rattled the cabin. She arrived at the living room, and was welcomed by a puddle of fresh crimson and disheveled furniture all in tatters. Denial was the first thing that struck her. She wanted to get out of the horrible 'dream', only to realize she'd already woken up. She glimpsed at the door which was torn off its hinges and ran. She ran into the embrace of the dark night, unexplored and unknown.

She ran. Ripping through the soft mud that swallowed her legs, ignoring the twigs and rocks that prodded and cut through her flesh. The fog was thick when she came to the woods behind the cabin. She tore through the barrier of bramble separating the eerie woods from the arcadian glade. She couldn't see, nor did she know where she was going, but she trusted her instincts. She trusted them to lead her to her beloved Nana who had once, long ago, spoken of the woods as the origin of the wolf.

*

There was the scent of death in the air -- rotting flesh and squawking of birds of prey. She could feel eyes on her. The woods was watching her. The trees had greedy tendrils, gripping at the earth beneath, tripping any unwary visitors. It slashed her face with its claw-like branches. But she didn't stop. She continued running. Running until the trees began receding, welcoming her to a clearing.

"The break in the wood".

*

Her body lay limp in the embrace of the sparse patches of dried grass.

Elodea saw her, lying there. Lifeless. A pitiful, limp ragdoll. Reality hit her like a boulder. the guilt and shock rooted her to the ground. It was her fault. It was her fault for never believing her grandmother. Her wise and kind grandmother. It was her fault for ignoring Nana that night. Nana who had pleaded for her help.
"Elodea!"
"Elodea!"
The words played over and over in her head. The hot tears trailed after, in an unending flow. She fell back into the dried grass, crouching, her arms wrapped around her knees and her face buried in her thighs.

***

Then she heard the low, steady growl.
She shuddered with disgust.
Her despair morphing into rage.

She gazed up,
her eyes met by a pair of familiar, warm hazel eyes and a familiar tone of russet shade.