In trying to backtrack, Alina had just run into a crumbling brick wall, the mortar loose beneath her hands. In daylight, it would be possible to scale it and climb back out of the grounds (sometimes brave boys from the village had done exactly that, climbing the wall just to say that they had done so, before they turned and climbed back and fled to more well-lit pastures). But it wasn't a task worth trying in the darkness, not where the wrong twist of an ankle might lead to a broken neck.
In the darkness, however, there was another hiss. One of the volcra leapt— the girl happened to move at the last second, however, and so the monster's claws ripped open her arm, but not her heart. It collided with the wall, sending dust and bricks skittering downwards while her blood splattered on the ground, and the rest of the pack set loose an ululating cry.
That cry sent the demon right to them.
The pitch-black forest was his home, and the volcra his... not his pets, but perhaps his grimly-tolerated monstrous neighbours. When the scarred man (or what had once been a man) went barreling through the trees, they instinctively glanced in his direction, like recognising like.
A black figure collided with one of the ghostly-white creatures; black talons ripping into its sun-starved skin, and then they were rolling over the ground. The new arrival looked animal, at first, before it turned out to be wearing dark clothing and a furred cape as its limbs tangled with the volcra, as their claws dug into each other, as the volcra screamed and the demon roared its defiance back. One of the other volcra tried to skitter into the fight only to have to back away — but their attention was off the girl now, more drawn to their unruly and hostile cousin.
It was an ugly fight; brutish, undisciplined. When the first volcra fell, the demon set on the second, although he was bleeding now, too: black blood spilled in the leaves, not red.
The sudden flare of pain almost knocked Alina to the ground but she managed to stay standing to attempt to fight the thing off her. Oh, she knew the tales and whispers about what lived in the woods but never knew what to trust. The truth mattered very little at the moment, however, with her blood seeping out and the pain pulsing through her like a second heartbeat. With a muffled gasp, she tried to think of what to do but what COULD she possibly do? The thing had a hold on her until it didn't. What? Another shadow emerged and Alina couldn't figure out what this could be either. Again, there were tales and stories around campfires but she knew better than to give actual belief to any of it.
Edging out of the way, Alina ripped up her cloak to tie around the wound to stop the worst of the blood loss. Her fingers moving along the crumbling wall when she finished. The scraps and cuts were barely felt with her questing fingertips. She could attempt to climb it but what if she lost her footing and snapped her neck? Becoming food for those creatures roiled her stomach and she decided against the plan.
Coming to the edging of the wall, Alina tried to count the amount of steps she took to reach it from where she stood previously. Her eyes moved back to the figures and the flying ones seemed immobile, which left the other blurred figured. It seemed more stationary now and while everything screamed in her to keep going, she couldn't help the prickling curiosity to see what happened. Had it not saved her?
Cautiously, she moved back to her former location, eyes adjusting to the shadows. "Hello?" she offered. "Are you - are you okay?" A stupid question and she bit her lip in annoyance at herself. "Um - thank you for -" She broke off with a slight shudder. The creature looked like a man? Sort of as the figure came more into her view. "You're hurt!" The wounds appeared far worse than her own and without really much more thought, she tore more at her cloak to get strips to bandage the wounds. It? His? She didn't really know.
The person — beast, being, shape, figure — looming over the volcra corpses moved closer, out of the dark tree-line and into the light emanating from her hands. And as he drew closer, she could tell that he was, indeed, a man: but he was pale from years spent in these pitch-black woods, and his eyes were coal-black, and the veins in his throat stood out like ink. Blood dripped on the leaves and the cloak whispered across the forest floor as he limped closer to her. He flexed his hands and the claws retracted.
(A man, but not entirely human, then.)
When the demon spoke, his voice sounded cracked and dusty, raw like he hadn't used it for a long, long time.
"You are not meant to be here." He didn't sound angry, just stating a flat fact. He wavered on his feet, watching Alina's movement as she tore her own cloak into bandages. "The woods— they're dangerous."
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In the darkness, however, there was another hiss. One of the volcra leapt— the girl happened to move at the last second, however, and so the monster's claws ripped open her arm, but not her heart. It collided with the wall, sending dust and bricks skittering downwards while her blood splattered on the ground, and the rest of the pack set loose an ululating cry.
That cry sent the demon right to them.
The pitch-black forest was his home, and the volcra his... not his pets, but perhaps his grimly-tolerated monstrous neighbours. When the scarred man (or what had once been a man) went barreling through the trees, they instinctively glanced in his direction, like recognising like.
A black figure collided with one of the ghostly-white creatures; black talons ripping into its sun-starved skin, and then they were rolling over the ground. The new arrival looked animal, at first, before it turned out to be wearing dark clothing and a furred cape as its limbs tangled with the volcra, as their claws dug into each other, as the volcra screamed and the demon roared its defiance back. One of the other volcra tried to skitter into the fight only to have to back away — but their attention was off the girl now, more drawn to their unruly and hostile cousin.
It was an ugly fight; brutish, undisciplined. When the first volcra fell, the demon set on the second, although he was bleeding now, too: black blood spilled in the leaves, not red.
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Edging out of the way, Alina ripped up her cloak to tie around the wound to stop the worst of the blood loss. Her fingers moving along the crumbling wall when she finished. The scraps and cuts were barely felt with her questing fingertips. She could attempt to climb it but what if she lost her footing and snapped her neck? Becoming food for those creatures roiled her stomach and she decided against the plan.
Coming to the edging of the wall, Alina tried to count the amount of steps she took to reach it from where she stood previously. Her eyes moved back to the figures and the flying ones seemed immobile, which left the other blurred figured. It seemed more stationary now and while everything screamed in her to keep going, she couldn't help the prickling curiosity to see what happened. Had it not saved her?
Cautiously, she moved back to her former location, eyes adjusting to the shadows. "Hello?" she offered. "Are you - are you okay?" A stupid question and she bit her lip in annoyance at herself. "Um - thank you for -" She broke off with a slight shudder. The creature looked like a man? Sort of as the figure came more into her view. "You're hurt!" The wounds appeared far worse than her own and without really much more thought, she tore more at her cloak to get strips to bandage the wounds. It? His? She didn't really know.
no subject
(A man, but not entirely human, then.)
When the demon spoke, his voice sounded cracked and dusty, raw like he hadn't used it for a long, long time.
"You are not meant to be here." He didn't sound angry, just stating a flat fact. He wavered on his feet, watching Alina's movement as she tore her own cloak into bandages. "The woods— they're dangerous."