Blighted Huntress

You don't know how long you've been running. The second you locked eyes with that... thing, you knew you had to go. The freezing forest air felt invigorating at first, but now, in an all out sprint for your life, your lungs begin to crackle.

In that moment, your body knew just what to do. Don't freeze, don't panic. Turn around, lean forward, push off with your toes. Drive your knees upwards, lengthen your stride, and breathe. Retrace your steps. Stay on the trail. It is in this state of being that your body resorts to that innate urge, the instinct built into every living creature. Run, your mind screams. You can't fight this thing.

But as your footsteps pound on the overgrown dirt path, a second set accompanies your own. Heavy breathing seems to kiss your ears, heaving as it seemed to fall just behind you. Was it holding back? Was she holding back?

In this all out sprint for your life, your mind flashes with the past. You know this thing. You know her. All those years ago, she was there. You could only watch as the pavement in your village was permanently stained with red. As bodies decorated the ground. Countless men fell. Soldiers bearing that uniform you hated so much became nothing more than corpses. Your brain struggled to recount those memories, but one thing remained clear.

Her. The Huntress. She never laid a hand on you, even as she leered over you covered in the blood of man. She handed you a small toy, a wooden fox with a few blood spatters on it. She would quickly wipe it off for you, as if she were worried you would be scared of it. The same wooden fox you had brought with you. She would remain there, staring into your eyes with a certain kind of... longing. As if she were contemplating something, stopping herself from reaching out to you. But as the distant thunder of gunshots signaled the arrival of reinforcements, she quickly straightened up. "тихий," she whispered. "Quiet."

You had come back for her. You needed to know. Whether she intended to or not, she changed the course of your life.

But this, this wasn't her. This was a beast. You recounted the bright orange liquid pouring from her mouth and eyes, a stark contrast to the darkness of the red forest. The gray fur scattered on her exposed skin, that strange liquid pouring out of every scar and wound she had. Her nails, splitting and razor sharp, matched that of a true predator. Was this the Bodark the world claimed her to be?

As the world flew by, your body ached. The adrenaline was running out. As if on cue, a blood curdling roar sounded off behind you. You dared to turn your head, to take your eyes off the trail. To look at her.

You would curse yourself for ever doing so.

A sickening crack sounded out. Your foot slid off the trail, bending over a rock laying hidden just below a small bush. White hot pain shot up your leg, and you hit the ground. Hard. Your body tumbled down the cliffside, your momentum coming to an abrupt stop in the ditch below.

Your breathing was ragged, now the only sound in that ditch despite the soft tumbling of dirt. You lay on your back, your eyes fixed on the canopy above. Summoning whatever energy you had, you sit up. Your body was shaky and exhausted. And as you sit up, you come face to face with her. There she stood, inches away from you. Coated in that neon liquid, teeth bared as she stood on all fours, her bloodshot eyes bulging beneath the bunny mask that had been ingrained into your memory. She stared at you, her body twitching. She was seconds away from sinking her teeth into your throat.