::::Some word up from T.A.G.::::

Today I take the gift/annoying yet well written/confusing burden upon my shoulders that my galpal, Byz gave me. I am to continue this story in its entirety and see it through to the end. (and beta'ing the old chapters along the way because she is a lazy ASS and asked me to) I will spend today doing so, despite my schedule. (I love her anyway)

And thus, here is the freshly beta'd prologue. I've been given permission to tweak the story, and change anything as I see fit. Essentially…I've been granted co-authorship. I'm intensely grateful, however, I won't change anything big, despite being given permission to. I LIKE this story, and I feel it has a certain magic to the words, so I'll leave most things be. She said she'd keep the original story up, so you can check that out any time since she is not leaving FF, just giving up writing serious fictions for now. You can tell her how crappy my rendition is if you want, IDC. Stroke her massive ego.

But in all seriousness, I begin my solemn journey of this fiction, that we both agreed shall be re-named Healing through Blood and Scars: Cicatrization.

Prologue

Running.

Mindless, running; running so fast that he felt his sides would split. Running away, he had to get away! Fleeing and being engulfed by a dark and putrid fear that welled up within his chest, he had to run, he couldn't think, only run. This terror caged within his chest was struggling to escape, it would quickly turn to madness, a panic.

He bolted along a path in this black forest with only the moon to provide sight. Though even though the pearl coloured light, he could see nothing. Not the glistening black forest on either side, not the puddles left from the rain. It was the sickening terror that blinded him, it was not adrenaline that kept him going now, it was this wicked mechanical instinct to stay alive. Just to stay alive.

It did not matter that he could possibly be infected, doomed to be a killer, he just needed to exist, to flee. Existence was all that mattered. Instinct of the prey. The hunted.

Looking over his shoulder he saw what he was running from and made an effort to forget what he saw, lest the panic escape. This proved futile, as the warping limbs and grotesque figure of the mass behind him seemed to have split into multiple groups of daemons that raced directly behind him. He began to scream. However, his cries went unheard, as there was much louder cacophony to drown them out. His ears began to bleed as he raced through the dark forest, the screams of creatures, neither human nor animal were intolerable.

These powerful wails, screeches that could only be produced by the damned, were not only a cry of attack. These were screams of beings enduring intense agony. The screams reverberated within his ears, each were horrid multiple toned wails that sounded as if multiple voices came from a single being. Each left a ringing echo across the forest.

These were the beings of the plague. The plague that had been spread to his village by those who hailed from the hills. It was a disease that changed the mind and body, one out of hundreds would recover, only slightly changed, but most would warp into beings of terrible power. The power was not a blessing, more a curse, these people would kill and devour other humans, becoming cannibals.

At first a fever would strike the afflicted, and they would be confined to their beds, suffering delirium and fatigue. Slowly they would lose their memory and eye sight, forgetting their loved ones and friends, and their eyes would begin to rot away. The ill needed food to survive, but it appeared that after a while they wanted none of what was given. Human food no longer satiated their hunger, they craved for human blood. At this stage the ill would posses cracking enamel on their canines and new teeth would force their way out…in only a day or two. At that point they possessed a full desire for flesh and were not shy about sharing their desires. After a few weeks they hardly even looked human anymore. Though at first they had some self control, as soon as one month into the illness passed, they killed those who tended them in their sick beds. The infected would have been weak up until this point, only able to move a little and barely able to breathe. However, with the increasing number of people they devoured, the stronger and more demonic they became.

These creatures that pursued him, these were the cursed ones. The children of the plague. The boy looked back and suppressed a gag within his throat.

Their appearance was one that would send anyone into pure revulsion. Empty staring eye sockets roved the forest, their 'eyes' were not present though they seemed to see. Jaws, dripping with blood, clicked and ground teeth together, the blood did not belong to the prey.

The creatures had once been human, meaning that they had once been put together by human bones and muscles. Now they had grown, through this horrid curse they had increased in physical prowess considerably; but at a price. Their bodies could not cope. Their mouths were too small for the huge fangs, so the teeth cut through flesh and pierced bone in their jaws and skulls; their skin was not able to stretch over their massive bodies, tearing and splitting all over, it bled profusely; muscles that had expanded so much that they began to warp the bones, giving way to twisted limbs and exposed marrow as the bones began to splinter; these horrid beasts had once been people, but after they caught the disease, it sent them to hell. These creatures were in so much pain that they tore everything apart in their path, including people, these beings fed regularly on human flesh. It was likely that these "demons", as the villagers had begun to call them, no longer even recalled what it meant to be human.

In his terror, the boy shoved branches out from in front of him, and jumped over the roots that could drag him to the ground. The branches and rocks cut his arms, legs, and feet, but the boy didn't care. Let alone even feel it. In the crevasses of his mind, however, his human mind, not the mind of prey, he knew he was tiring and hurt. That would not do, one less ounce of speed and those hellions would catch up and devour him. He tried to think over the incessant wails and blood pounding in his ears.

Moving his dark eyes around in desperation at the path ahead, the boy came up with a plan. Putting on a final burst of speed, the boy rounded a corner on the path way, allowing him temporary evasion of their roving 'eyes'. Now was his chance. He made a sharp right, left foot sliding on damp leaves, almost sending him sprawling, but the boy remained steady in his terror and proceeded to run. His new course took him off the path and into the deeper part of the forest.

The things overshot the location, unable to find their prey. The bleeding demons howled and continued in their stampede down the forest path, melancholy cries drifting through the night air.

Ducking through the leaves, the boy promptly sat on the cold ground in a shallow grove, safe, but he knew, only for a short time. Brushing his black tresses from in front of his eyes, he lifted his head and looked around, a human for the first time in hours. Fear, no longer present, had disbanded with the hunters.

The boy curled up, his body aching and stinging, covered in cuts from brambles. His entire being shivered with exhaustion. He was so tired, and so afraid. He did not want to think of what happened to his parents. He could not imagine what had become of his family, his friends; his beloved dog…Was he the only one that survived? Could he have caught the disease…?

Those things, they carried the plague, those who had it were sentenced to death as soon as found to be infected, the village elders understood that the disease could be spread through the simplest of means. This illness could be spread by air, physical contact, or even fluid transfusion between loved ones via saliva or procreation. Many innocent people caught it and were killed upon knowledge. He did not want to return to the village, perhaps more children of the plague lurked there, but he could not stay here, those things would surely find and certainly kill him.

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Ok, that's the end of the prologue. I'll continue to edit and post this story as I see fit.

Review plz and I give my love, k?

-Gnat