Super•Villainous

XVII

Luckily, my doodled compass survived through the passing hours with only minor disfigurement by tiny paw prints barely wider than the width of my thumb. Harmless as they were, the idea of animals prowling so close while I was defenseless left a bad taste in my mouth. I'd had a feeling — dreamt, maybe — of something touching me while I slept, softly grazing over my bare flesh. A large cat prowling. A snake sliding over my skin or tiny spiders scuttling up my arms. Shaking off the momentary discomfort, I followed my eastern line's diagonal path down the mountain, first with my eyes, then following with my feet.

I soon discovered, in the dying light, that night was fast approaching, meaning I'd now spent over one full day out here, a day without food, a day without water or shelter, warmth or proper attire, and I keenly felt the absence of each.

I had two more days without water to reach those power lines and hope they were near something meaningful. If not, well, I didn't need to spell it out, did I?

*~*~*~*~*~*

I felt it before I saw it, the wave of cold that didn't belong, washing over me, erupting gooseflesh up and down my arms. Then, I caught a reflection of moonlight where there should have been none. For one glorious moment, I thought it might have been a stream, but upon approaching, I promptly rejected the notion.

Not a stream. Not water.

Ice.

Ice everywhere, crawling up tree trunks, coating the ground like a frozen lake, embalming from leaves in brittle cages.

I shivered again, not due to the cold, but rather from what the ice meant in the middle of summer. Who it meant.

I took a step back, ducking behind a chilled tree, and searched for any signs of Shade nearby, returned from the ravine I sent him down. Based on the unmelted nature of the ice, he'd been by recently. When my vision yielded no further clues, I turned instead to listening. I heard the rhythmic chirping of crickets, soft hooting owls, wind through the trees, my own too-loud breathing, but nothing else I could identify as man made.

Unless he heard me first, and hid for a better opportunity of attacking me unawares—

Except, why would he do that? He did not need me to have my guard down in order to best me. He knew it. I knew it. I wasn't some Super who could fight back by spitting poison or shooting lasers out of my nostrils. I doubted I could muster enough energy to run away at that point if he did show up.

And, frankly, I didn't really care about him all that much when faced with the much needed promise of water. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the ice, the droplets of dew racing down each thick sheet.

I wet my lips.

I let myself be convinced that Shade had vacated the premises, practically skidding over the slippery ground to beat my knuckles into the ice and plop a shard into my mouth. I knew it was ill-advised and I had, in fact, been the recipient of countless warning about how eating snow in the wilderness was a one way route to the grave. In my defense, I had absolutely no pots to melt it in. Besides, it wasn't so cold as to actually be snowing, so I didn't stand that much of a chance of becoming ill. Worst case scenario, I'd be a bit colder than I already was. I gladly accepted that risk over the much greater likelihood of never finding another source of fresh water over the coming days.

It still begged the question, however, of why the display was here at all? The area lacked the destruction of Shade's previous clearings, where his ice had long since melted to puddles and soaked into the earth. All the trees here remained strong, tall, and unmarred. So what was the point?

*~*~*~*~*~*

I stayed longer than was wise. I stayed until hydration swept away the parched, gravelly desert in the back of my throat and my thrumming headache receded. I stayed until my cramping stomach couldn't take anymore and expelled nearly clear bile across the forest floor.

Scanning the area while I leaned against a nearby tree, I wished I could take some of the ice with me, knowing how impossible the desire really was. Alas, I couldn't stay forever.

With a sigh, I turned to face the now rising sun and continued down the mountain.

Hunger pains came and went over the next two days, sometimes so bad I doubled over and it took everything in me to stay standing, other times it dropped to an ignorable level, though never forgotten. Never that.

My thirst returned, and alongside it my mounting panic that perhaps I'd taken a wrong turn somewhere — not that I'd taken any turns to speak of. My path was as straight as I could make it. How could those blasted power lines be so far away?

My paranoia reached a fever pitch that fourth day, a nagging, needling feeling that told me something was out there with me. Stalking. Hunting. Following.

I sensed it before, too, like a prickling on the back of my neck that wouldn't go away. I reasoned myself out of my fears, saying there were loads of small creatures in the forest that could be responsible. I would not necessarily have been opposed to being stalked by a bushy tailed bunny rabbit, but anything larger than that foretold trouble.

I did the only thing I could. I ignored it, and kept on ignoring it, even as warning sirens blared in my head, until, from exhaustion and sheer irritability, some deadened part within me bent and snapped.

I stopped abruptly in my tracks, staring fixedly forward, because to turn around required more energy than I currently had.

In a flat monotone, hoarse from disuse, I said, "You can come out now. I know you're there."