Sorry, I'm Not Into Bestiality

Chapter 14 -- "Some Birthday."

Chapter 14

Danny's POV

I didn't dare leave the water until I physically couldn't stand the cold.

My entire body was drenched as I slowly waded out of the freezing river, my exhausted limbs screaming in protest as I somehow managed to drag myself out and onto the rocky riverbank. My clothes were soaked through and my hair was unceremoniously plastered against the side of my face in a tangled web, my entire appearance resembling a drowned rat (and that was at a good angle).

Teeth chattering, I limped further inland and hauled the banshee's body along behind me-- the broken bow that I'd used to bash its head in now serving as a makeshift leash as its bloodied corpse was dragged out of the river and onto the mossy bank.

Once we were both safely out and on dry land, I took a moment to gather my bearings. I ran a hand through my unruly wet hair, gingerly checking to see if my stitches had become undone to find they seemed tender but still intact. Looking down at my arms and torso, I checked them over to see if there was any serious damage done. There were quite a few cuts and bruises forming, but thankfully nothing looked as if it would cause me to bleed out anytime soon.

Tentatively flexing my fingers to stretch my bruised knuckles that had previously slammed into the riverbed, I rolled my wrist and shook out my hand as I move on to test the weight of my swollen ankle, wincing when a short, sharp pain flashed up through my shin and effectively rendered it useless. It didn't seem broken, only sprained. But I could tell it was going to be a pain to get back to the house in this state.

Knowing that there was no point in dwelling I grimaced, adjusting my footing to put as little weight on my left leg as possible before taking a deep breath. Counting to three aloud, I hitched the longest limb of the bow securely over my shoulder with a low hiss. The bloodied and equally as drenched banshee dangled from the bowstring that I'd thoroughly wrapped around its neck, a mixture of blood and water dripping down from its limp corpse as I insured it wasn't going to instantly come undone and fall to the ground.

I'd considered leaving it in the water, however after some brief deliberation I decided against it for precaution's sake. I had no idea where the river led, and didn't want to risk the body floating off to traumatise an unsuspecting human down the road. Last I checked-- banshees weren't exactly mainstream news.

"Okay," I muttered to myself, finally confident that my makeshift leash was tight enough, "Let's go."

My shoes squeaked loudly as I slowly began limping back in the direction of the house at respectful pace. The once gorgeous pair of tortoise shell oxfords that had earlier earned so many compliments were now most likely ruined-- my clothes equally so; fully amalgamated with black banshee blood and irreversibly torn in several places.

However more so than my outfit I mourned the loss of my bow, with the sentimental value greatly outweighing the price tenfold. I'd had it for years, winning several competitions with it in hand. I had an irrational attachment to the weapon, but eventually accepted the sacrifice and grimly reminded myself that without it-- I'd most probably be dead right now.

Clambering over roots and boulders I began periodically sighing in exhaustion every minute or so. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the fresh cuts that littered my upper body slowly grew to burn more prominently along with my ankle which continued to throb heavily.

God, a bath would be amazing right now.

The temperature began to drop, but on a more positive note: birds and small animals slowly emerged from the shrubbery as the forest began to reawaken. Call me an optimist, but I had a pretty strong suspicion that a lack of banshees was the cause. And I really wasn't in the best shape to be proven wrong.