Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any related characters. However...the forest, and Them...they belong to me.
A/N: Haha. How's about that? Two chapters out in one night. Oh yeah, that's some skill. /preens/
I finished this chapter up instead of writing a sonnet, because sonnets are hard. I think I'm going to write a Harry Potter related one. /waxes nerd/
I don't know how easily you readers scare, and it was late when I wrote this, but while I was writing this last night, I was scaring the crap out of myself. /wimp/ So yeah...
It was dark. It had been dark before Harry entered the meadow, but now the forest's darkness was all encompassing.
He wished for light.
Harry kept moving. Somehow he knew the forest was after him, would take him if it could; but if he didn't stop, didn't stop for anything, then he would be okay. He had to be.
Now Harry knew why no one went into the forest. It was not a nice, fairy-tale-full-of-big-eyed-friendly-talking-animals-forest. Oh no, this was the kind of forest that lured away young men and swallowed them up whole.
Harry was dizzy and thirsty and oh-so-tired, but he knew if he let down his guard for an instant, he would be lost.
But he stayed away from any water.
After the stream in the meadow, he was not going to put any forest-water into his mouth. And sometime during his venture through the woods, he had lost his animal-skin full of food and water.
He was at the mercy of the trees. The trees that were getting closer. The trees which were not as green and welcoming as they had been. The trees, who were hiding something.
Harry knew that if he was very, very lucky, he would never find out what they were hiding.
So very tired.
Harry wanted to just lie down and go to sleep; close his eyes forever. But he couldn't do that. The trees…
The thorns had stopped pricking him. But they were still on him, in him. Harry felt them.
But they wouldn't come out when he tried to pick them from his skin. In fact, they seemed to be going deeper. If he didn't get them out soon, he was afraid they would go inside his skin. Harry shivered at the thought.
Harry knew that it was the thorns making him so tired. Knew that if they went inside him, he wouldn't be able to lift a finger; would be left unable to fight…To fight whatever came out of the trees.
Harry really hoped the thorns would come out soon.
The pine needles—or were they pine? The trees looked too wrong to be pines—looked so soft, so inviting. But he couldn't give in. He would get through this, as he had gotten through so many other things.
But the trees…
Don't worry about the trees; just normal trees, they can't hurt you. Look how pretty they are. Don't you want to go lean your back against their trunks? Just a short rest. What harm could it do? You've got nowhere else to be.
Harry knew the voice was wrong. Knew the trees would do him harm.
The trees, which were now speaking to him. Whispering in his ear.
Harry walked faster. And wished for a light.
And then wished for darkness.
There was a light, but he wanted it to go away, so very badly.
The trees…
The light was coming out of the trees.
Or, more precisely, the light was coming from the things coming out of the trees.
Harry's luck had run out.
He ran.
Tripping over fallen twigs and dodging strangely still branches, Harry managed to catch sight of Them out of the corner of his eyes. They were pale, and still incorporeal, but Harry was sure they would turn tangible soon enough. And he did not want to be around when that happened.
Terror spurred Harry on, pushing him to speeds greater than he would have thought himself capable of. But the ghostly figures were becoming not-so-ghostly, and they were noticing him.
And that was very bad.
Harry didn't know where he was going, and the surge of adrenaline was dying, and the thorns were sucking at his power; almost inside him now.
And he could hear Them now.
The trees rushed past him, terribly silent now. But that was the problem, everything was so quiet.
Only the whishk as Them passed through the air.
Harry was so very scared. He thought that now Lucius was not looking bad, no, not at all. But it was too late for thoughts like that.
Somewhere safe…
And he could feel Them breath on his neck.
It was cold, cold as the grave, cold as a spider's kiss; and it smelled, peculiarly, of honey.
Harry's steps were getting slower, and his feet were getting heavier. And he just wanted to stop.
But he could feel the feathery touch of Them fingers. Raining on his back and legs.
With a last burst of energy, Harry leaped.
As he was in the air, he saw ahead of him a gate. And behind that gate, a castle.
There were lights in the windows, and it looked so bright and cheery.
And Harry knew that he would make it. Would reach the gate, outrun Them, get to the castle and be safe. And he would get a warm glass of chocolate, and perhaps a bit of bread, and he would fall into a cozy bed, and everything would be all right.
But then…he fell.
Instead of landing on his feet and sprinting to freedom, he fell.
And the hard dirt greeted him, and the scent of honey filled his senses, and he felt a thorn finally prick it's way inside his skin.
And then the gauzy fingers of Them touched his head, caressed his hair, and he knew no more.
A/N: /scowls because she thought it was a longer chapter than it is/ So, what think you! Was it scaaaaary? ...I didn't think so. Well, I tried.
Also..I'm not good at making up cool names, so unless any of you has a good suggestion for creepy names, the Them will continue to be called Them.
And yes, I know that I should have put They instead of Them at some points. I thought about it, and I prefer to call them /heh../ Them. ...Shut up.