Survival, If You Can Call It That ((story/char back story... thing))

[Istella]

Since this is a role playing forum, I'm really not sure if it's cool to post this here. I guess it's a short story, but technically it's also part of the back story for one of my RP characters. So it kinda fits here, sorta.

Anyway, this idea has been rattling around in my head since I came up with the character and I just got a wild hair today and decided to get it down on paper... or pixel, whatever. This is all I managed to finish before I got tired (5am) so if no one minds that it's here, I'll post the rest once I finish it.

Feel free to let me know what you think (even if it's just "gtfo and post this in a different forum,") I always appreciate constructive criticism.

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Survival, If You Can Call It That

It was right behind her. The time for stealth and stalking had come and gone and now she could hear its massive body smashing through the undergrowth toward her, intent on finally ending the chase in a few powerful strides. Exhausted, alone, and injured, Cross scrambled away as quickly as she could, slipping in the mud and stumbling over roots in the forest’s inky darkness. Some combination of combat training and survival instinct caused her to throw herself to the damp earth. She slammed into the moldering forest floor just as the beast sailed over her head, so close she could smell the stench of its wet fur. Its momentum carried it into the darkness beyond. Just as quickly as she went down, she forced her protesting body back up. She was not running to any specific destination, just away- away from the violent, bloody death that was quite literally at her heels.

Cross’s dread threatened to give way to despair; she could barely hobble now, her leg already torn open in the fighting earlier and her breath coming short and labored from her headlong flight. She had bought herself mere seconds; the beast was already after her again. She could not outrun it and it was far too smart to fall for the same ruse twice. No, now that pouncing had failed it would simply run her into the ground before going for her throat. If she was lucky.

Directly in front of her a tree loomed out of the darkness; without hesitation or conscious thought she leapt at it. Her boots were not made for climbing and she scrabbled for purchase, scraping her palms on the rough bark and tearing her fingertips bloody. She struggled up the trunk as the beast’s jaws snapped shut audibly in the empty air beneath her. Still she didn’t slow, continuing up the tree from branch to branch as high as her weight would allow her to go. She was well aware that this tactic was merely another delay, not salvation. The creature could leap freakishly high and even if she managed to put herself out of its reach, it could climb nearly as well as she could.

Sure enough, as Cross reached the highest point she dared to go, the sound of snapping branches filled the night air and the tree began to shudder under the beast’s weight. Looking down, she could already make out its hulking shape beneath her; she had seconds before she would be within its reach. She used them to catch her breath and gather her wits.

There was no escape; even if she could get back down past it, her body was spent and she had run as far as she could. She had no way to hide, the beast had tracked her for miles by scent alone and his other senses were likely as powerful. No rescue was coming, she and her unit were out here alone and they had been scattered in the fighting; if any were still alive their situations were likely no different than hers. Steeling her nerves, Cross prepared herself for the only option left to her. She pulled her daggers from the scabbards strapped to her hips. They were simple, utilitarian tools with clean straight edges, comfortable hilts, and perfect balance. Unhappy with her grip, she wiped the blood and perspiration from her torn palms and readjusted her hold as she waited. It wasn’t a long wait.

It was directly below her now, the tree shaking so badly under its weight that it threatened to throw her off. Its heavy, damp odor wafted up to her. She could make it out clearly now and it was even bigger than she thought; the beast would tower over any man and had shoulders like a bull. It was close enough she could see the bloodlust in its unnerving, too-intelligent eyes as it snarled up at her. Daggers in hand, she launched herself into the air.

The beast swung at her as she came down; whether it had anticipated her move or its reflexes were just that good, Cross didn’t know and didn’t have time to dwell on. Her training kicking in, she twisted athletically in midair, narrowly missing its outstretched claws. The maneuver worked against her though, causing her to overshoot her aim. Her right dagger missed the beast completely though she managed to sink her left one into the meat of its back, just below the shoulder. The jarring impact and sudden stop of her descent nearly wrenched the blade from her grip but she managed to cling to it as it held fast, buried to the hilt in the creature’s muscle and bone. The beast howled in pain and rage. It thrashed wildly and reached around, trying to claw her from its back while she worked desperately to hold on and find purchase for her other blade. Their perch was too unstable though; the beast’s violent struggling dislodged its own grip and sent both of them plummeting to the ground.

They tumbled through the darkness together, each lashing out blindly at the other. As she fell, Cross lost all sense of direction and bearing; she could no longer tell when it was claws raking her or the broken branches they were crashing through. She lost her left dagger immediately, probably still buried in the beast’s back, and her right slipped from her grasp somewhere along the way down. It bit her twice, the first time its jaws closed around her head, tearing at her face. She screamed and thought she was as good as dead before its hold was knocked loose as they struck one of the thicker boughs. The second time it sank its teeth deep into her shoulder, pinning her firmly beneath it as the ground rushed up at them. The impact forced every last breath of air from her lungs.

All Cross could do was lie there and gasp and be astonished that the fall didn’t kill her. She wished it had.

She lay motionless and dazed with the beast still on top of her, its weight nearly crushing her, as her vision swam in and out of focus. She could see nothing out of her right eye at all. It released its grip on her shoulder and sniffed at the wounds on her chest and face, as if trying to discern if she was dead or just stunned. It leaned in close to her face again and Cross was certain that her end had come. She closed her good eye and tried to focus on something else- how quiet the night had gotten, the soft muddy ground she was laying on, the hard stone under her thigh- anything but what she was sure would be the monster’s teeth on her throat.

Instead, she felt its warm, rough tongue on the wounded side of her face. It licked the torn flesh experimentally… and then snapped its jaws down, sinking to the bone before tearing back away. Cross screamed inhumanly, reached for the stone underneath her and closed her hand around the familiar hilt of her dagger. Still screaming, she thrust it upwards with all of the strength she had left, driving the blade up through the soft flesh under its jaw and into its skull. The beast’s snarl was cut off with a spray of blood and it collapsed on top of her, twitching and jerking.

Cross crumpled beneath it as its blood drained out over her. It finally grew still and the hemorrhaging slowed to a trickle and still she lay beneath it, too weak to shift the massive corpse off of her. She was bleeding too, from more wounds than she cared to count and none worse than her mangled face. She grew light-headed and cold, and as her agony started to fade she was still aware enough to realize what it meant.

She decided that quietly bleeding out wasn’t such a bad way to die. At least it beat being eaten alive by a monster.

And she had managed to send the bastard on ahead of her.

No, not such a bad way to go at all.

The sight in her good eye dimmed and she let herself sink down into oblivion.

[Chonar]

Very good. You painted the setting just right, right from the start, and drew the reader in.

[xensorlol]

Personally loved this. Very nice job.