Maria

The autumn air slipped in between the torn armpits of Balon’s tunic, chilling the sweat trickling down his sides. He wrapped his arms around his body and looked around the wood. The pale white trees maintained their impartial pose, naked branches shuddering in the wind.

Balon looked at the sun sliding down the horizon. If his wife was still alive, he needed to find her fast. The gremlicks would be hunting soon.

He looked down at the shaggy hound sitting on his boot and gently nugged him off. With a whistle and a flick of Balon’s wrist, the dog ran off to the right and began searching for its mistress again. Balon followed behind, scanning all around as he walked over the carpet of freshly fallen leaves. He prayed the god of good fortune would guide him.

He couldn’t imagine what could have compelled Maria to enter the woods. For twenty years, his wife had never ventured south past the grazing pastures, but it had been her apron hanging from the twisted oak on the forest edge and her dress twenty yards in. It had been some time since Balon had found an article of clothing, but he supposed there wasn’t really anything left.

The rustling feet of the man and dog drowned out the sounds of scurrying creatures. Every time Balon stopped to catch his breath, he could hear them scampering all around. The gremlicks would be much louder when they came for him.

His hound froze ahead, nose lifted, considering a scent. Balon froze as well, his heart pounding. He waited for the hound to reach a conclusion. The dog gave a short sharp bark of delight and ran ahead. Balon uttered a cry of relief and ran to keep up.

“Slow!” he shouted.

The dog reluctantly slowed its pace, and Balon jogged to catch up to him. The haze of twilight was beginning to fill the wood, and Balon didn’t want to lose him.

“Good boy,” he muttered as man and beast walked closely together, united with a new sense of hope.

They walked on until the brush became difficult to manage in the dark. The dog would walk a few feet and pause, sniffing in various directions before walking again and repeating the process.

Balon’s chest felt tight with dread as he struggled to keep his balance on the forest floor. With a heavy heart, he called for the dog to stop. They were going nowhere.

He fished around in the pouch hanging around his neck. His fingers grazed the flint, and he let out a breath of relief. Balon pulled it out and groped around for a suitable stick.

The dog stood up and growled a warning past Balon’s shoulder, and Balon suddenly realized his breath sounded too loud in his ears. His ragged breathing filled the space around him, and he strained to hear the intruder coming. He turned his head and caught a glimmer of light off in the darkness. Balon grabbed a branch and straightened. He reached out to feel the solid comfort of the dog’s fur. The raised hackles tickled the palm of his hand.

He let his arm drop to his side and tightened his grip on the branch. He held it out towards the approaching light and felt all the inadequacies of his frail, human form.

“Run,” he whispered.

He bolted in the opposite direction of the light, hands stretched out in front of him to shield him as he ran. It was faster than he had imagined, faster than him. He could barely hear the dog crashing through the brush in front of him. The sounds from behind drowned everything out as if the forest were crashing down around him.

It’s mass hit him high in the back and they rolled until it could catch its footing, claws sliding in the dirt. The oily black mass of muscle and bone was much larger than a man, its face framed with the unholy light of something burning far within its charred skull. Balon screamed as jagged, inverted teeth grabbed onto his shoulder. His clothes began to singe and smoke where it pinned his body.

His dog circled back and sprung at the creature, latching onto its side. A dark black substance seeped from the bite, covering the dog’s muzzle. With a scream of rage, it released its hold on Balon’s shoulder to turn on the dog. Balon took advantage of the monster’s shifting weight to scramble out from under it.

The smell of burnt flesh and blood filled his nostriles as he ran. He could hear his dog behind him, but he could do nothing to help. He ran through the wood, undergrowth scrapping at his legs. The crashing began again behind him. He didn’t turn to look, but he knew he didn’t have long before it was on him again.

He could see a thinning of branches ahead, and he ran harder. His heart strained to keep up, nausea twisting in his guts. The air was no longer enough. He couldn’t suck it in fast enough to satisfy the need. He felt like he was suffocating. His shoulders tensed for the pain that he knew was coming.

The trees thinned around him, and he broke into a clearing. Moonlight reflected off a pond to his right. Balon charged into the water, pushing against the muddy bottom as he launched himself out towards the middle of the pond. The fire creature ran along the edges of the bank, whining and screeching. It cursed at its prey, before conceding with a hiss of disgust. It returned into the wood, melting into the inky darkness.

Balon gasped, the painful thumping in his chest rivaling his ruined shoulder. He angled onto his back so that he could float more of his weight. He looked up at the night sky, his hot breath curling up in plumes to the heavens.

Something brushed against his leg, and he shuddered back upright, splashing himself in the sudden motion. He struggled to stay above the surface as he wiped his eyes. It continued gently bumping against his body on its ascent to the surface, Maria’s hair, Maria’s face, Maria’s torso, and nothing else. Balon opened his mouth to shriek before the cavernous maw beneath clamped onto his legs and dragged him down into the depths.

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