Evening Stranger
By Ryley Clarke
I saw them before I could smell them. An image of a spec stood out from the steep whiteness of the mountain side, a rock at first or an exposed tree untouched by the blizzard, moved, slowly, but moving, transforming into a mere creature walking upright, clambering along, disappearing every so often behind snow covered trees.
I knew it was no animal but a thing, a creature unlike any, a killer with no rhyme nor reason, a greed. One became a few, then many, struggling behind one another gripping tightly to each other’s back. The line of them quickly descended just as they had appeared towards the great passing river down between these very mountains, the river I was heading to, the one I needed. Stumbling down, the figures disappeared, a struggle with each misstep.
Whispers of wind rustled the leaves high above, the blizzard now submitting to a heavy, slow snow fall. The greenness of the forest seeping with the brown bark as night would soon be, with glimpses of dark patches opening up from dirt ground. All would be white, all would be black, everything a wasteland, haunted by slight creaks of distant branches. There would be no predators here, for it was too cold for them, the kind that prey could stumble through without the worry of something hiding above the clouds, above the branches.
My cloven hooves crunched softly through the snow, legs, thin and shivering, sunk deeper with each step down the mountain. Figments of eyes attached to the trees above ruptured around the deeper I sunk beneath the squelching, muddy ground. They were watching me, whoever they were. Stopping, stuck in the mud brought their breaths harder and hungrier, their nails scratching, digging deeper into the bark with anticipation. But they would never come. Once my heartbeat left my own ears and the ground stopped exhaling from each step, only whispers of leaves would speak, brushing silently against one another, dancing in the gentle breeze, the figments would be no more.
Finally the snow’s depth calmed to a nice few inches from my hoove, rushing water ebbed at my ears. It was the lack of smell that I knew where to trod, as if an empty gap lay before me, moving, roaring, calling me to take from it. That’s when I knew I could smell again, to strike through the falling snow before me, as that gap closed to me with each step.
Bleeding close to the water stood a strong, dark oak. A gaping wound, open to the wilderness, had almost frozen over, a few bubbles still spurting from within. There was a nutty, stale, sweetness to the sap as I licked at it, eventually opening the hole up a little, the frozen sap crunched between my teeth, sticking to them as the sweetness lingered. The tree bled slowly, but freely now as I moved to the water, the sweetness now stealing any moistness that had been left to my mouth and down my throat.
Hovering just above it sipping the rushing water, my small cloven hooves are the only thing stopping me from falling in, I could feel the soft dirt inches from the water breaking apart beneath my weight ever so slightly, ever so slowly. I may sink my small hooves into the cold shallow, although I would be done drinking by then.
A few fish flew from the river, splashing heavily as they jumped, a crack in the woods further down and across the river escaped through the roaring of the rushing water, down wind, impossible for me to smell what it was.
Bright red, cylindrical. It shone through the enveloping greyness. Soon everything would be unnoticable, but that, sitting by the river, would not. That’s where the crack was. Was it that very small thing?
A shiver rose from my legs to my neck as my cloven hooves had now sunk into the edges of the river, the dirt that had covered them fell apart, drifting off into the river, becoming one of the same. My reflection barely visible as the water rose up my legs. Long faced, black eyes, pointy ears and a button nose.
Another crack. A tree long fallen near the river, its ragged tip full of broken branches hanging just above the tinkling water, rocked softly. The red thing that had sat close to this, was now gone. Snatched away, snow hanging around the hole left in its wake crumbled in on itself.
The river only a few steps behind me suddenly splashed. A fish? Still I made my way back up the mountain. Another crack rang from behind, a familiar kind, the same clumsiness. The snow below was thickening again, my small cloven hooves trudging against it. A stumble and the falling of snow from a tree closer behind struck like thunder through the soft whistles of winds and the pitter patters of a blizzard now only a reminisce. The wet dirt stuck like sap to my legs the more I struggled on. I stopped to smell, but the wind glided down from the mountain and past me, small waves of snow specs kicked up hovering just above the white ground as they flew, shifting through and around in a whirlwind. Its eyes stared through a few trees across, glittering in whatever light was left allowed within the forest. I could barely see it, but it was moving. It was moving towards me.
Making a right turn in the snow did nothing to help, the snow and dirt only stuck harder, thickening each step. I could feel my legs strain with the lack of food and very little water I drank, I hadn’t slept in days.
The red thing dangled wildly behind the tall match sticks of trees, itself attached to a half snowed covered creature. It stopped just as I did. Still I couldn’t smell it, but I knew it was one of them, one of those things that had been wandering across the mountain before. How did it find me, where was the rest?
Those figments above the trees appeared all the same, watching from above, waiting like they had done many times before.
It moved only one step, then two, a weird smile across its red face. A nose frozen with dribble, sharp teeth yellowed like dead wood, eyes watery red now, with arms beginning to outstretch, to tower above me.
Kicking out of the snow was more difficult than I had expected, my legs sunken further into the ground. It didn’t grab much of me, only the top of my back with barely any grip. No claws to slash or grip me down, instead slipping off quickly, only to make another move and striking me to the ground heavily. The freezing snow puffed up and stuffed itself into my ears and eyes, my body sticking to the ground as muddy dirt weighed my fur. Straddling me now it struggled to grasp what was left of me, but fell down just the same as I screamed and kicked at it. I felt a crack the instant I made a connection with its body. A soft groan, as if something was stuck in its throat lurched from within it. I struggled up just as it was, a hand to its head, the other waving slowly in front of it, as if searching for something or to hold something. I kicked again, this time breaking one of its legs sideways, it fell down with a much louder yell.
Birds above scattered from the surrounding trees, their flapping, fleeting retreat sung high in the air as the creature shouted some more. There were no predators around, but it was and so must its kind and I knew more than anything that sounds like this carried in the wind.
Quickly I jumped onto its chest. It stopped for only a second, its arms and legs bouncing up in a poor attempt to stop the pain. Red spurt from its mouth and fell on its face, on its lips. It moaned longer but quieter. I needed it quiet, and with my two front hooves I fell upon its face from where those sounds came.
I could feel another crack, still the creature moaned, trying to lift its weak, flailing arms to protect it. Again I brought myself down, this time the bone softened. A small gurgle arose and again I struck. Wet crunches followed as I kept striking, the blows digging deeper and deeper, softer and softer. A red hole from where the sound used to come from formed slower each time I brought my hooves down.
Now there was no sound, except for the slight twitch and the very soft rise and fall of its chest. Red seeped from its caved-in skull. Splatters of bits of bone and bits of brain covered a small circle around its top half, hands and arms stuck in place, maybe from shock or the freezing snow, a half attempting to get up, to defend itself. It was quiet and soon stopped moving. The snow had stopped falling and a light blanket of white dots covered the creature’s body, the red thing attached to it was now a dark grey and its skull finally stopped bleeding blackness.
The clouds above dispersed, showing the sparkles of the night as I trudged back up the mountain, the black blood upon my hooves mixed with the squelching dirt hidden below the thick snow.