I shouldn't be so cynical to start.
I know people despise my negative connotations; it makes their souls shrivel up inside. Not that I blame them. But it's hard to praise yourself when death is crawling up your spine.
His skin is as cold as ice.
I would be lying if I didn't admit he was here for me. Here in the cold, dark woods I knew nothing of. Here where nature reigns, and the blood is tastiest when it leaks from the warm, lonely mule that lost his way.
The forest laughed from above, mocking my cries and whispering my pleads to the birds who dared to stay. I dragged on; snaking through the undergrowth, clawing into the snow, hissing as it bit the skin beneath the glove and turned my blood to ice. The fur coat didn't do much to ease the disparity in my chest, nor tend the growing itch upon my thigh.
I tried not to look at it. That wretched bite. The adrenaline may have kept the pain at bay, but I knew I was wounded the moment the metal stench wafted into my nares. It was a predator's dream to taste human flesh, and the one I mutilated was no different. His breath upon my skin was warm when he downed me, his weight like a log upon my bones. His white fur smeared upon my face while I screamed, suffocating me as he stabbed two fangs into my flesh as a fork would a steak. Desperation, I assume. A shame I had spear him, but nature held no bounds. It was kill or be killed; that was her law. His blood or mine. His life or mine.
My teeth chattered, legs kicking sporadically against the earth and snow, stretching that injury further. I wish I had my gun with me, or the spear. I lost the first in the avalanche that took out half the hunters, the second to these blasted wolf creatures! Alas, it wouldn't matter, I don't have the strength to wield them now. There was a pain growing in my fingers; I ignored it for the time, pulling myself further, groaning like a dying deer, and panting like a dog. I couldn't help but falter breathlessly while I moved; the cold ancient wind choked me of a dryness I thought only existed in the desert, sucking up my saliva until it turned to ice. My nose was failing me as well. The pointed tip, once a staple of my chiseled face, was turning a shade of light purple. Had I been in the warm chambers of my hut cooking a nice plump chicken, I would have mocked it. Blueberry nose, I thought with a scoff. You ate that Wonka gum, didn't you?
Another eruption of pain came. I gasped, burying my face into the snow to muffle my scream. My leg... it'd get infected soon enough. Gangrene wasn't hard to come by here. Nor was frostbite.
Out of the darkness came a shrill cry. One that sent more than enough shivers down my frozen spine, and stuck my hairs on end. I turned at once, staring over my shoulder into this empty night, eyes half-lidded as crystals collected on my face. The millions of trees gathered around my body was all that greeted, stretching out against the misty glow of a snowy void, and taking the sky that had since lost its stars. I forced a breath, waiting. Watching. Listening.
A scuffle sounded, not far from here. A stick broke, then another. I couldn't make out what I was hearing, not until a guttural screech took to the skies. I ducked, cursing -- the scream came again. Then another, panicked. The cries turned to wails, the wails into pleads, and underneath that voice was a sound I hoped not to hear: torn flesh.
"HELP ME!"
I don't know what energy my body managed to muster, but I suddenly began to rush myself, stabbing my hands into the whiteness and pulling frantically. Whimpers of torment left my lips as the screams went on, so agonizingly long.
"AHHH!"
I could hear it all now; the huffs and puffs of excitement, the crunching snow beneath a plethora of bodies, the sound of squelching meat splintering between the jaws of the devil. His wails were so loud, so helpless and broken, I felt as though I was in his body feeling what he felt, tasting death's flavors just as he did. I dragged myself for what felt like ten terrible minutes, knowing I could do nothing to save my crying ally.
