Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha or any of the characters in the series. But I do completely and totally own my right to a creative license. This means that I can write this story any way I want, and it will belong to me!
I'm running.
I don't know where I'm going, I never have. But they're after me again.
So I keep going. Keep running. I have to keep going. "Never look back," She always told me. So I never do.
They're always after me. They never tell me why, they just come. It frightens me. Can they not see my fear? Smell it even? I can. And I can smell their hatred. And in return, they should smell my fear. It is the natural order of things. There is the hunter, and there is the prey. For some reason, I always have to play the latter of the two roles.
The trees and branches pull at my already tattered clothing. If that's what you want to call it. Most just call it rags. It's as if the forest is against me as well, holding me back, trying to let them catch up. So I run faster. I have always been a good runner.
I can hear them gaining on me, yelling at me. I don't understand their words, but they are filled with loathing, and disgust. How can these people feel some much hatred? What have I done to them?
I feel my legs getting tired, weak. I have to keep running though. I'm still hurting from the last time they caught up to me. Some of the wounds never heal. One always hurts me, and I don't know why. It's an ache behind my breastbone. I don't remember getting hurt there, although they harm me everywhere else.
My feet are torn with cuts and bruises. I have nothing to cover them with, so I walk with my feet to the earth, no shield from its wrath. A warm wetness runs down my face, but I don't know how it got there. It happens a lot, even when it's not raining.
It's darker now, and I can hear their angry voices fading. They usually give up when it starts to get dark. No one wants to be in the forest when it's dark.
I slow to a steady jog. Maybe they're just trying to trick me. Maybe they're still coming. So I tread on until I'm too tired to go further. They must have given up by now, right? The pricks of light in the sky are clear, and the mirror of the sun is at its height.
I pull at the rope rubbing against my neck, and I can already fell the blisters forming. They tied me up like a dog. That's what they always call me. Inu. They curse and scream at me, and I have done nothing at all. At least not that I can remember.
This time it was a group of children, probably close to my age. Eight, nine, somewhere around there. (At least, that's how old I think I am. No one ever really told me, so I can't be sure.) This group of kids tied me to the outside of their home, beating at me with sticks, laughing. I don't know what they were laughing at, because I could find nothing funny.
I gnawed at the rope that held me until it broke, then they all stopped laughing. Their screams brought out the adults, who chased me into the forest. So that's where I am now.
I remember a time when I felt something close to happiness. My mother. She made me feel warm on the inside. He voice was soft, and she'd talk to me until I slept in her arms. I loved the sound of her voice. Her scent still haunts me, it was so intoxicating. Something I could never forget, but could never place.
She left. I don't know to where, but she was gone one day when I woke up. The room we lived in was in tatters, and there was blood everywhere. I knew her scent so well by then that I knew it was her blood. I never found out what happened to her.
I asked people in the best way I knew how, but then the running started. They would chase me, and yell at me. I got so hungry that I had to take food from the village. Food was always brought to me by my mother, so I knew no other way to get it. When they would catch me, they would hit me, beat me, whip me. The worst was when they'd cut my ears. I always had sensitive ears.
I entered a clearing in the forest, and I saw wood protruding from the ground. A well, I assumed. The Bone Eater's Well. I heard the people in the village talking about it. They said they wanted to throw me into it, but then they said I'd have to be dead first.
How ironic. I really wish I was dead.
I hear a shuffling in the bush, and I jump. Maybe they had kept following me! It's too late to run again, so I flatten my ears and growl, hoping I look a lot more intimidating then I feel.
A man stumbles out of the brush, and into the clearing where I stand. He's panting heavily, and I can smell his blood. He doesn't seem angry, or afraid. Just hurt.
"Please…help me." The man stumbles over his words. He has to be around forty or fifty.
I flatten my ears again, and let out a weak growl, not quite as intimidating as the first. I'm fighting an internal battle, deciding what the best thing to do is. I should help him, I know I should, but what if he hurts me like all the others have in the past?
I give up, and let my ears perk up again. He can't be too much of a threat, he is after all injured. I approach the man, and slip my arm around his waist, supporting the majority of his weight and leading him into the clearing so I can get a better look at him.
He seemed to have passed out somewhere between the trees and the grass.
But even in his unconsciousness, he is clutching his side, trying to stop the steady flow of blood. I peel his hand from his side to get a better look at the gash. His shirt is torn and I can clearly see what appears to be claw marks marring his side.
I strip off my tattered shirt, and press it to the wound, hoping to stop the steady bleeding. This much blood loss can not be a good thing. After a few minutes of my constant pressure to his side, the blood slows, and I know it's starting to clot.
I take the shirt and tie it around his stomach so it can keep the pressure there. I know of a river nearby, and I need to clean his wound before it gets infected.Youkai scratches can be deadly if they get infected.
I return with the water cradled in the man's shoe which I borrowed from his foot. I know it can't be the cleanest place to carry the water in, but I don't have anything else to use. I remove the shirt, and dip it into the water, rubbing it around the claw marks, washing away the dirt, grime, and dried blood.
He starts to stir, and my ears flatten instinctively. He opens his eyes slowly, taking me in. "My bag," He tells me weakly, gesturing to the forgotten bag at the edge of the clearing. "My bag has supplies."
I understand, and fetch the bag, emptying its contents onto the ground. I find a handful of herbs, and I remember my mother using them on me when I was injured. I look back at the man to see that he is unconscious again. He also has clean cloth, so I grab that as well.
After making sure that the wound was as clean as I could manage with the limited resources, I rub a bit of the herbs into the marks, and the man cringes. I remember that they used to sting. I wrap the clean cloth tightly around his torso, binding the gash.
The man seems conscious again, and he turns to look at me. I hate it when people look at me like that. "Thank you." He whispered. "Are you an angel?"
He has clearly lost his mind. Or he's just delusional. "Something like that." I answer him.
He nods, and closes his eyes, letting unconsciousness take hold of him again.