C. Friedman: Dominion

And he could sense the woman.

She was thirsty. So thirsty. She had found a source of water and was cupping her hand to bring mouthfuls of it up to her lips, but the thirst was rooted deep in her damaged flesh and had more to with lost blood and exhaustion than with simple dryness. Nevertheless he could taste her pleasure as she drank, and even the flicker of hope that she allowed herself, having found such refreshment. A dim hope, but she wielded it like a shield to ward off the fear that might otherwise make it impossible for her to continue. Such a strong soul.

When she began to move again he was aware of her as the Forest was aware of her, through the thousands of living creatures that were impacted by her presence. He could feel the weight of her foot pressing down against insects in the earth, the warmth of her body brushing against trees, the stirring of leaves in response to her breath. And then there was her fear. Waves of it rippling out into the night, washing over him in a sweet black tide. He shut his eyes to savor the sensation, and he could sense predators stirring in the shadows that surrounded him, responding to his arousal. Then he opened his eyes and placed his hand on a nearby tree branch, and it, too, responded to him; the bark running down one side of it contracted, and it curled back on itself like a snake.

Hunt with me, the Forest seemed to whisper. Feed us both.

He was not so drunk on the moment that he forgot the danger he was in. What the Forest had failed to accomplish in a direct contest of strength it might still manage by seduction. Its nature demanded that it subsume all creatures within its boundaries, and if he gave it the right opening it might yet succeed.

But some temptations were not meant to be resisted.

He stood silently for a moment, considering his options. Then, with a short nod, he began to move through the woods once more, heading toward his prey.

The beasts of the Forest followed.

Blood.

Hot.

Pounding in her head.

Her skull felt as though it had been split open. Maybe it had been. Maybe she had died and gone to Heaven. Or Hell. Either one would be fine by her right now. Anywhere other than where she had just been.

For a moment she just lay motionless on the ground, unwilling to open her eyes and resume the nightmare. But her head was on fire and her chest was growing tighter with every breath, and she knew that she had to start moving again if she was to have any hope of survival.

With a groan she lifted her face from the slime-covered ground, blinking as she tried to get her bearings. The moon was still bright overhead, so not much time had passed. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? There was a throbbing pain in her arm where the wolf had managed to bite her, but the limb responded as it should, so nothing new had been broken, and there wasn’t any sign of blood trickling out from under her bracer. Also good.

Why was she still alive?

She looked about for her sword. It was lying on the ground a few yards away from her. The lead wolf must have fled after she’d wounded it, dragging it just that far before it had fallen free of him. If the rest of the pack had followed him, that would explain why she was still alive. She crawled over to the sword, and used it to steady herself while she regained her feet. As she stood upright she swayed slightly, and for a moment her eyes refused to focus. She had been wounded often enough in her life to recognize the cause of her lightheadedness; somewhere inside her body her lifeblood was leaking out. If she did not find a healer soon to repair her internal injuries, she was not going to make it.

She forced herself to begin walking again. Her feet were numb and she stumbled often, but staying here was simply not an option. She had to keep moving. As fast as she could, as far as she could. Every minute counted now.

God of Earth and Erna, help me stay on my feet. Just for another few hours.

But she had only managed to go a short distance when suddenly her foot slipped out from under her. The torch went flying from her grasp as she stuck out her hands in front of her, trying to break her fall. She hit the ground with bone-jarring force, her left knee slamming into solid rock. Ice-cold liquid splashed across her face, shocking against the feverish heat of her skin. Somewhere in the distance, the torch hissed and expired.

For a moment it was all she could do to catch her breath and make sure that no new bones were broken. Only then did the significance of her situation hit home.

Water.

As her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, she saw that she had fallen in a shallow pool, from which streamers of water stretched out like glistening tendrils along the ground. Thirst welled up inside her at the sight of it, but the thought of drinking anything from the ground here made her stomach turn. God alone knew what manner of noxious parasites it might contain. But the droplets of water trickling down her sweat-streaked face reminded her of just how long it had been since she had last tasted food or water, and how long it might be before she had another opportunity to do so.

If you don’t have the strength to make it to a healer, she told herself, you’re doomed anyway.

Leaning down, she cupped her hand to bring some of the water to her lips. It tasted odd but not overtly foul, and after a moment’s hesitation she began to drink in earnest. The cold water soothed the parched membranes of her throat and eased the fever in her flesh. Finally, feeling the weight of the ice-cold fluid building in her stomach, she forced herself to stop, knowing the risk of overindulgence.

The water had cleared her head somewhat, and she studied the pool surrounding her. It had been disturbed by her motion, so that it was hard for her to see if it had any sort of natural current; after a moment she picked up a fallen leaf from the ground nearby and placed it on the water’s surface. It bobbed about randomly for a few seconds, then slowly but surely began to move away from her. Watching it, she felt the shadow of despair lift ever so slightly from her soul. A current implied gravity, direction… and hope. Assuming this tiny stream did not disappear into the earth, it might eventually lead her out of here.

A wolf howled in the distance.

Panicked, she jerked her head around to look for the source of the sound, but nothing was visible behind her save moonlight and shadows. She struggled to her feet as quickly as she could, but her bruised knee was loath to support her. Her torch had fallen into the deepest part of the pool and was thoroughly soaked, so she didn’t waste time trying to retrieve it. If the wolf wasn’t aware of her presence yet she might still have a chance, but only if she moved quickly.

But then another wolf howled. And another. Their cries were eerie, ghostly sounds that made her skin crawl. Were these the same animals she had fought before? Or something new that the Forest had conjured? She began to move along the side of the stream as quickly as she could, but she was limping badly now, and each time her left foot hit the ground it sent red-hot knives of pain shooting through her knee. She struggled to think past it, to keep focused on her objective. Keep your eye on the water. Don’t lose sight of it! Keep moving…

Suddenly she heard an animal moving through the Forest to her right, crashing noisily through the underbrush. A few seconds later there was one on her left as well. Apparently they had picked up her trail, and intended to surround her. At her current pace she didn’t stand a chance of escaping them.

Gritting her teeth, she started to run. A stumbling trot was the best she could do, but it was better than walking. Once or twice her foot caught a low-hanging branch or vine and she had the crazy delusion that the Forest was trying to trip her. But she managed to jump over most of the obstacles, and tear herself loose from the rest, so she kept going. Running as an animal would run, drawing upon those reserves of strength which are stored on the threshold of death, which only terror can access.