our weird friendship anomaly (Wenclair)

On the Prowl - 3

Her feet carried her deeper into the forest as swift as a coursing river, able to keep at a constant pace.

The crickets chirped and the owls hooted, the branches and leaves rustling, all together it was like a harmony of mother nature. Though it could use a bit of an animal predator getting its prey.

The ravenette blending perfectly in the dark shadows would run maybe a few more miles and then from there she would slow down and wander with observation.

Impressively fit the petite and short girl was. She could lift quite the heavy weights and run a distance thoroughly.

Ah, but nobody's allowed to call her those words describing how small she is.

Otherwise you-

It doesn't matter where, when, why, how, or who... I will run, I will run like the wind. I will be the speed of light. I will run no matter where, whether through wastelands, deserts, crowded towns, a battlefield. From shadows I will descend upon your world. I will appear from the darkest corners. Even if you run, you cannot escape the shadows. Even in the deepest hole you put yourself in, I will dig and rummage and kill you but not before flaying you. I will kill you before you kill yourself, there I will be most unhappy. And with your body I will bury you over and over again until not even the roots of a tree can reach you or the deepest tunnel mankind can make. Your name will not be history, as I will have unwritten you out of the fiber of the universe. You would've never existed except for giving me a chance to have a pleasure and joy in making you wish you never even thought about anything small or darkness related. Nothing... will... stop... me. So, do not ever call me such adjectives revolving around small.

...

Yeah.

Just don't call her small.

Even if she's 5 feet tall.

5 foot 1, actually.

Anyways, she was trekking briskly through the trees, which was getting more thicker and thicker to the point where her dark orbs couldn't see beyond four trees ahead of her.

The chill of the season made it extremely foggy, one would see their own breath vapor but with Wednesday Addams... she could pretend to be dead from temperature to state of body.

She felt most comfortable in those times honestly.

The cold.

It was nice. It never bothered her because that was what was inside her, a cold body.

One that would never accept the warmth unless it was some magma or boiling hot lava.

She was already doing well at her age of 15, never accepting warmth or the warm feelings. A few goth or emo-like boys and girls at her previous schools attempted relationships and friendships with her, but with her venomous yet monotonous expression, she made them feel like regretting on becoming such society punks.

Refusing to fall under the Addams curses of feelings and bonds, she was on the right course.

For now.

Suddenly, her mind snapped into her surroundings.

Her pace slowed down just a little as she examined the woodlands.

The forest was quiet.

Almost too quiet.

At this time of the year, day, and in this area of the world, it should never become this quiet.