Prologue

“Twilight and dawn, the sacred hours. One of solitude, the other of sacrifice.” - The Lost Annals

His eyes fluttered open, greeted by blue light. Dawn. Birds chirped in high perches while a wind blew by. Squirrels and other rodents chattered in the distance. The nut-bearing trees, probably in an attempt to purposefully rile the man’s nerves, dropped their seeds erratically. Their landings were like miniature explosions, the trees being so gosh-darn tall.

What a noisy morning. He sat up, rubbing his temples. The night hadn’t been very pleasant either; autumn was coming over the hills. The bed of moss he had found under a rock alcove was soft, but the creepy-crawlies wedging themselves out of their holes crawled over him constantly. He felt horribly itchy because of that. Not to mention some rather brittle leaves gathered around him silently in the night. No matter how much he prayed to the Forest Spirits, they always found a way to toy with him.

Luckily his pack and bow were still lying in a neat pile besides him, cleverly hidden by the vibrant leaves. That’s one thing he had to thank the Forest for. Rummaging in the soft brown knapsack, he pulled out a sweet apple and chomped on it. Juice dribbled down his chin. He wiped it away with his shirt sleeve; if she was here, he could just imagine the scolding and beating that would ensue. Traveling alone… how nice it was, he mused with a smirk.

After finishing his meal, he stretched. A walk would be nice. Brisk, however. Back creaking, the man stood up and brushes some stray twigs and barbs that had caught on his trousers. While looking down at his belongings, he slung his quiver over his shoulder and picked up his bow. Caution was necessary while roaming the Wild places.

He slowly made his way through the Forest, ducking under swinging tree limbs and marveling at the fiery colors. Weasels and chipmunks shot out of his way and glared at him beneath stripped bushes. With good reason, he thought with a chuckle. Even the stupidest creature in the World would be a bit frightened by him. It just emitted from him—menace.

“Well never mind that,” he whispered to himself, breathing in the fresh air. “Menace was something I was born with.” A low sound hit his ears. A creek. Wonderful! he thought. His canteen was empty, and the next town could be hundreds of miles away. Following the gurgle of the water, the man was budding with so much joy that he was prancing. Yes, prancing.

At last, the creek slipped into view. The man pushed his way through a thick wall of spiky brambles, of which little white puffs clung to the branches. Cotton? No, it was so sticky. Ignoring them, he had squeezed his way through, the man attacked the creek. He splashed onto the shallows, gulping down the ice-cold water.

The man dunked his head under the water. Shaking off the excess droplets, he gazed up at the sky. A vapid periwinkle color with a hint of lavender. Not a very spectacular sky, he would say. Over the tops of the bright trees, he could see the sun peeking over, but it blended in with the trees so well it would have been hard to tell if not for the way it hurt your eyes when you looked at it. Thankfully the air was fresh. With the discovery of the creek and the rejuvenating start, he was in high spirits.

Something trickled down his shirt. Curse it! He hadn’t brought anything to dry his wet hair with. And it was the stupid length when it’s too long to be short, but too short to be tied back. He grimaced slightly—next time he was in civilization, the whole thing was going to be chopped off.

Suddenly, a flock of birds burst from the trees, screeching and clawing at each other. The brown mass was attempting to flee, feathers flying and felled birds dropping into the creek. The man was stunned in his position. The little bodies plunked into the water—plop! plop!—as bigger ones claimed the sky. Red stained the clear stream of water, so that everything around him was red, almost like his eyes were bleeding. It happened in just a single second; he had barely time to blink. They were afraid of something.

The man cocked his head sideways. Was that a thundering noise? He felt sick, as if the world was spinning around him. There was no way… He choked, hand covering his mouth.

Crack! Snap! Darting shapes moving between the trees, their white-specked brown coats streaked with something dark. Blood. The pounding was deafening. Deer. And they were heading toward him… As they neared the stream though, one by one, the man watching with horror, they dropped to the ground, crying out in agony. A dark shape moved behind them. Crawling along, leaves crumpled up and died, trees twisted and warped, strangling everything in reach.

That could be only one thing.

Oh no!

He tore the fuzzy bushes down and sprinted through the Forest. With expert skill, he snatched an arrow from his quiver and readied his bow. Like it will do any good. Red leaves fell around him, as if the trees were crying bloody tears. He had to get back to camp. He had to run. No matter what, he had to get back. Why had he been so stupid!? Behind him he could hear it, the scampering footsteps of the animals running, scratching themselves to death, the disappearing warmth from the Forest.

Then the screaming began. His blood ran cold.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he cursed, tears coming from his eyes. He pumped his legs, zigzagging between the trees. Blood pounding in his ears, he shot an arrow with precision at a high branch above him. Barely avoiding being squished by it, the limb crashed to the Forest floor, causing debris to fly up and rain down. Hopefully it would prolong it. Probably not…

He shot a few more superhuman arrows at the trees, but he saw no point in shooting more. His was running on blind panic now. At camp he had the supplies to put up the barrier. If he didn’t get to camp…. The man ground his teeth.

No! Contemplating about the possibilities would hinder him.

Then it happened, the worst nightmare thinkable. He knew it sealed his fate.

He tripped.

The leaves and ground grazed his face, palms and kneecaps bruised as he slumped to the Forest floor. He tried to get up, tears pooling on the leaves, but his limbs were weak. Apparently all the adrenaline he had was gone.

He slammed his head on the ground, tearing at the ground with his fingernails. He had to dig a hole… if he could just dig himself under the dirt. Eyes bloodshot, he dug into the ground, hands bleeding. Dirt stung his ripped skin—just a little longer. Crazed laughs bubbled out of his throat. He’d hide under the ground. Yes! He would escape!

“Aaah!” A hard form landed on his back, knocking the breath out of him.

Hot breath tickled up his spine. The man sputtered out a gasp. No! This couldn’t be happening!

His scream was undescribeable.

(…)

A/N: Personally, I have no idea where this story is going. Woke one lovely morning with a sudden urge to write about a ‘dawn horror.’ Eerie… O.o I like writing things that creep me out, though. Keeps me on edge. So… don’t know how many people will like this, but I hope that those who did read it were thoroughly spooked. No? Well, I’ll try better next time, if there is on. Adieu!