A frightened voice cut through the midnight blackness of the lagoons, words echoing off of the eerily tilted trees.
"Grace? Grace, are you there?" A young man stumbled through a tall thicket of bushes, a dim flashlight gripped tightly in his hand. "Okay, Grace, this isn't funny anymore." There was no answer. "Come on, you're starting to scare me."
The bush he had just freed himself of rustled behind him. The boy whirled his flashlight around, only to see the waving outline of the thorn bushes. He approached slowly, edging forward with his foot first. The branches slowed, then stopped, leaving no evidence of their movement. The boy halted as well, and strained to hear anything that might clear his mind. A crunch behind him brought him whipping around again. This time, the narrow beam of light caught the gnarled trunk of a willow, its leaves waving in the damp breeze. He was caught in their rhythmic spell for a moment, but was brought back to his senses by yet another noise to his right.
The flashlight illuminated a short, slight girl with jet-black hair. She held her arm in front of her face, warding off the light as if it was the blinding rays of the sun itself. When her companion lowered the beam, she did likewise with her arm, but kept her eyes tightly shut. When she finally opened them, all that could be seen were the odd gold flecks of her irises.
"Jesus, Paul! I keep telling you, don't shine that thing in my face. You know I've got sensitive eyes." She put her hands on her hips, focusing right on his face even through the darkness. "Can't a girl tend to a little private business without getting the damn spotlight?"
Paul deflated, his shoulders drooping in relief. "Sorry, Grace. I just got worried."
"I was gone for a couple minutes!"
He held up his hands in defense. "I know, I know. But it felt like something was wrong. I don't like this place. Everything just seems dead or dying. It's creepy."
A sigh escaped Grace's mouth, and she stared at him disdainfully. "It's just a lagoon. You've lived around here your whole life, and you're still scared of some trees and bushes. I swear, Paul. Sometimes you can be so pathetic." She brightened. "But there are many ways of curing cowardice. Many very enjoyable ways."
Seeing the suggestive smile on her face, Paul stood up straighter. "What do you have in mind?"
Grace backed up a step, and beckoned to Paul before she ran off into the underbrush. Paul, a stupid grin on his face, chased after her.
He suspected nothing as he passed through the wall of bushes. He stopped for a moment to try and catch a glimpse of Grace. It was just long enough.
A blur of dark motion leapt from an overhanging branch, colliding with Paul. A glint of metal disappeared into his head, and he fell to the ground, where he gurgled and rolled over.
Paul's flashlight bounced on the ground and lodged in a tree root, and silhouetted his attacker. The dim form took the shape of Grace, with small, sharp claws extended form under her fingernails, her lips curled up in a bemused smirk. Her eyes, slitted like a cats', were fully opened, drinking in the sparse light.
"Grace? Wha-what's going on?"
Grace gave him a withering glare, and bared her teeth in a feral snarl. "Grace? God, I hate that name." She grinned wickedly, not unlike she had just seconds before. "For the moment, you can call me Norah. But I doubt you'll even have that much time."
True to her prediction, Paul slumped back to the ground. His last words were a whisper, accompanied by blood bubbling out of the corners of his mouth.
"Bitch."
Grace threw her head back and laughed, the kind of sound some would call a cackle. "Honey, that's gotta be the least imaginative thing anyone's ever called me."