WC: 1047
Cabin: Evans
Task: Horse-Riding
Lost and Found
The full moon shone through the towering trees, its silver light bending through the gaps illuminating the rocky path underfoot. The intermittent grass clumps made for difficult obstacles with the height of them hiding any danger that lay ahead. The overbearing rocks stood like warriors against anyone who dared cross their way. This was the place that no one wanted to be.
And yet, this is where Peter found himself.
It had all happened so fast. One moment he was hanging on the back of Padfoot as he bounded after the running werewolf and then… a corner was rounded and he fell off. He landed on his back in the grass on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. And the others hurried away. His little legs wouldn't catch up with them too quickly and it isn't like he can just transform back to a human. The werewolf would be able to smell him and with his abilities, he wouldn't be likely to change back to his Animagus form quick enough. He would have to travel on four legs.
The woods loomed over him, taunting him. A shudder ran through his tiny little body and he scurried forward, his claws digging into the ground underfoot. Each tree looked the same, each rock resembled the previous and still, he travelled on. The path was long ahead and he made slow progress but with the moon shining down over him, he continued searching, hunting.
Then he heard it. A single howl that echoed through the air, bouncing against the thick wood and rustling the grass surrounding Peter. He stopped, his hair standing on end, his nose twitching in fear. He tilted his head and scanned the area.
Then again. Another howl. Then a bellow. A yelp. That was them.
Peter knew it was them. He hurried towards the noise and stumbling over small stones, he tried to get closer. He dodged branches and squeaked loudly at passing creatures - mostly spiders - before pausing to see if he could hear them again.
Silence reigned through the night. Not a sound could be heard.
Peter began to breathe heavier. Or as heavy as a rat could breathe. Had he gone the wrong way? He turned himself in circles. Round and round. Then down he fell, his head spinning, his mind racing. If a rat could cry, his eyes were welling up, threatening to overflow. He slumped down into a ball and waited.
The trees mocked him harder. They seemed to close in. They waved their branches towards him, looming over him, crowding him. Peter cowered beneath their intimidating structure, huddling closer into himself.
A cacophony of noises began to wail. Branches creaked. Wind howled. Leaves rustled underfoot. The sound of a branch snapping in two made Peter jump. He ran.
Through dark gaps, over the shuffling leaves, past solid obstacles, he ran. He bolted past all the things that frightened him before bursting into a clearing. Well, bursting in like a rat and just appearing with a wave of the grass.
Peter stopped. The world was still. His laboured breathing was all he could hear, the blood pounding in his ears. Then he saw it in front of him.
Illuminated by the moonlight, stood the werewolf perched on his hind legs. His fur glistened with sweat. Tiny droplets of blood stained him. His yellow eyes glinted dangerously as he shook his head. He stilled, his body on high alert for danger. The majestic beast stood for all the world to admire. And then down he went. Taken out by the racing darkness that tackled him.
The large creature straddled him, keeping him locked. The werewolf growled. Peter stilled in fear. Then a barking laugh burst through the sky. The wolf tossed the dog away before chasing after it, locking him in a battle of strengths.
Peter breathed deeply before searching quietly for the final member. Against the bright moon, he found him. His head bent low in the small pond that was on the edge of the clearing. The silver sheen bounced up to him, lighting his handsome features, the ends of his horns dipping low into the crystal water.
Peter scurried over to the stag's side, the cold grass brushing against his fur. He dipped his head into the water, allowing the chill to brush against his nose. The stag's warm hazel eyes latched on to the small creature.
He moved his antlers out of the water and dipped his head down to the grass, stroking the edge against the rat's cold body. Peter wrapped his small legs around the velvet covering and waited for the stag to lift him. When the stag raised his head, Peter allowed himself to slip down, falling to the safe place on his back. Making sure that the last time didn't repeat itself, he dug his claws into the fur. The stag let out a pained hiss. Peter rubbed his nose against the fur before settling in for the ride.
The stag turned to face the two battling creatures, glancing briefly to the waning moon above. He bellowed loudly, causing the play fight to pause. The two smaller creatures faced the stag who cocked his head back towards the Shrieking Shack. With what could only be described as a playful shove to end the fight at the unsuspecting werewolf, the dog took off at a rapid pace. The werewolf recovered quickly and followed suit.
The stag shook his head slightly before chasing them too. Together they went back to the Shack, stopping to wait for Peter to slide off to press the knot before venturing inside.
The energy began to wear out of the animals and the other three watched as the werewolf curled up into a ball, shaking his head before resting it on his paws. The animals left him there and climbed out of the Shack again. Once they reached the outside again, the three changed back into the teenage boys that they usually were, beginning the trudge back to the castle.
"Here, Peter, sorry for dropping you. I didn't even notice you were lost until we stopped," Sirius muttered, his apology drowned out slightly by the yawn that erupted from him.
"It's alright, Sirius," Peter replied, "I'm just glad I found you again."
I'm sure you know the drill by now, read and review please.