Chapter 4: Night of Fangs
Taylor:
She couldn't stay still, she had to move quickly. When the first rays of light gently warmed her face they had been soothing, pleasurable. Now, every time her eyes darted towards the rising orb in the sky, each time a little further on its way than the last time she checked, all she could feel was panic. Like a clock slowly turning to announce the end of her reprieve, the beating of her heart the tick that advanced it a moment further. As if to count down each of her remaining breaths.
With her new dagger carefully strapped to her hip, Taylor made her way towards the smallest of the wooden shacks, the one hidden in the shadow of a particularly lush willow. She reached for the doorknob, which thankfully turned without complaint. She was grateful for that, she didn't know if she had the stomach to search the remains of the corpses for the key. It had been bad enough even with the adrenaline pumping through her veins without pause and the darkness obscuring some of the more gruesome deformities; but in broad daylight...
Taylor shook her head, bringing her attention to the fully stacked shelves of the deposit in front of her. It was the place where the staff kept everything they needed for various activities, ranging from outdoor cooking to camping to rock climbing. In other words, a treasure trove for somebody in her situation. She immediately got to work, scavaging through the pile of equipment for anything useful. That being said, she was no survivor expert, so she simply went for the things that seemed useful and caught her eye. Grabbing by the door the largest backpack available, she went about stuffing it with her chosen possessions. A tent, the lightest one she could find, a battery-powered lantern and one spare, a couple of firestarters and some small torches, some reasonably long rope, a compass, a small first aid kit and a rain cloak. She eyed the climbing equipment with interest, but the considerable weight they added on her back made her give up on them. There was also some duct tape she found to somewhat patch her glasses as well, but there was nothing that could be done about the cracked lens. Making a quick foot stool out of some cardboard boxes, she went to grab a sleeping bag. Her first reflex was to go for one of the thicker ones, the ones that could retain heat the best, but ultimately decided against it. It was still plenty warm during the day during this time of the year and during the night- well, she wouldn't be sleeping during the night anytime soon.
After making sure everything was secured on her back, Taylor headed towards the cafeteria in search of rations. Her endeavour this time proved far less successful. The only things of value the half hour she spent rummaging through every nook and cranny of the place yielded were some water bottles and half a dozen granola bars. A measly haul. She did however stumbled upon a half-empty kettle of murky black liquid. She stopped to ogle the pot of coffee for a moment.
Now that her life wasn't in immediate danger, the effect of a full night spent running through the forest was harshly making itself known. Her muscles were screaming in pain as the rest of her body was enveloped in some sort of odd numbness; like it was trying to fall asleep without her permission. Her own thoughts were getting slower and muddier, making her feel like she was fighting for every moment her eyes were still open. Even the hardwood floor was looking more and more enticing by the second. So without hesitation, she gripped the kettle in both hands and downed it in one go. She scrunched up in disgust as the overwhelming bitterness of the sludge threatened to make her throw up. She persisted though, and soon she could feel her heart rapidly racing through her chest as her movements quickly lost their previous sluggishness. Her brain still felt sluggish, but she was functional. That was good enough.
Her last stop was her own dorm room. By this time more than an hour had passed, so Taylor couldn't afford to lose any more time. She would have skipped this part entirely if the thought of having to spend even one more second in those bloodied clothes made her want to scream. She all but ripped them off of her, pointedly avoiding looking at the symbol on her chest as she put on the first thing she could get her hands on, a simple green tracksuit. She made sure to change to a more fitting pair of outdoor boots as well. There wasn't enough space for a spare, so she wanted something that could take a beating.
All said and done, she turned to leave, only to immediately spin on her heels as something caught her eye on a stool next to one of the beds. An alarm clock. Taylor wanted to kick herself. Such a simple thing, and it had almost cost her her life. She shuddered to think what she would have done if she had found herself without anything to wake her up before the sunset. She hastily grabbed it and tried to stuff it in her backpack, cursing through her teeth as its bulk forced her to leave behind some of the clothes she had previously packed.
It wasn't until any glimpse of the camp was almost completely lost in the woods behind her that doubt started seeping in, putting a halt to her steady, determined pace. What was she doing? She was practically a child, she doubted she could survive on her own in the forest, even without the monsters who thirsted for her blood on her trail. She was relatively tall for her age, yet the weight of the luggage on her back still threatened to drag her to the ground. She was alone, on the brink of exhaustion, with barely any food and only a vague idea of where she was going. She promised herself she was going to survive, yet what she was doing now was tantamount to suicide! What she should be doing was trying to contact her authorities, to get herself in the custody of heroes as soon as possible. The strange swordsman had told her that they couldn't help, but what reason did she have to believe he hadn't been wrong? Someone like Legend or Eidolon could definitely find some way to keep her safe.
'But what if they can't?' A small voice a the back of her mind whispered. 'They'll assume all of this has been the work of some crazy Parahuman. All they'll see is a child scared out of their mind spouting nonsense about ghosts and full moons.' Her hands wandered at her sides, where they were greeted with the warm steel of her new dagger. 'They would take it away from me, wouldn't they?' Now that the sea of carnage was no longer anywhere in sight, it was all too easy for what happened the night before to lose its substance. She felt herself wanting to cling to the familiar, to dismiss the ridiculous notion of anything supernatural and to cling to the familiar. To blame the fear, the shock and everything else under the sun as a way to explain it in a way that made sense. Powers, villains and heroes, those made sense. She had lived in their world for all her life. Yet the knife in her hands was still there, a brutal remainder. An anchor to this other world, one that, unlike the crest etched into her skin, she didn't want to part with. Not when it was potentially her only hope of staying alive.
No, there was really only one path available for her. And it wasn't the one heading back to the camp. It was the one stretching in front of her, beneath the shadowy dark green branches that hid away the sun. So she took the first step, boots treading forward through a mashing of twisted roots and tall grass.
Taylor didn't stop walking until the sun was well past its midday point. While unfamiliar with hiking, she did her best to recall any half-remembered advice her mind had clung to. She forced herself to maintain a steady pace, conserving her stamina as much as possible while not allowing herself more than a couple of short breaks. As for the direction, she didn't have a map with her or anything like that, but considering she was currently in Vermont, she decided on a south, south-eastern direction that would hopefully get her back to Massachusetts. From there, finding Brockton Bay shouldn't be too hard. Probably. She would deal with that when she got to it.
She had quickly fallen into a rhythm. She gave her body a direction to follow and it dutifully obeyed, with minimal instruction on her part. Her limbs, her exhaustion, the pain in her legs, everything felt oddly distant, like tiny needles painlessly stabbing through her muscles. Were they even her own?
It wasn't until she tripped and fell briefly, only for her body to refuse to get up, that she realised she was truly at the end of her tether. Her mind was too full of worry and drowsiness to allow her frustration to take hold, but her fists did clench slightly. She hadn't covered nearly enough distance away yet. If the Heroes had already discovered the bodies back there, it was all too possible that they could pick up on her trail.
Her head peered back, half-expecting to see the crimson flashes of Velocity's costume as he blurred towards her, to hear the sound of his feet touching the ground a hundred times in the speed of a heartbeat. She was met with the same greenery of the landscape, accompanied only by a soft buzzing and a bird chirping. Last night the forest had been a den of death and rotted greatwood. Now, however, it had a tranquil quality to it that Taylor had never understood before. Life blossomed all around her, animals and vegetation alike, but she remained the only person around to witness it. Unbothered, yet not alone. There was something comforting about that feeling, especially when comfort had felt like a scarce commodity for her for a long time now. Unable to summon enough energy to lay down her tent, Taylor opted to plump down her sleeping bag and lie on top of it, Her body finally surrendering to sleep's forgotten allure.
Her eyelashes batted once, twice, and after the third time, she was greeted by the dimming light of sunset and the alarm clock blaring in her ear. She jolted awake, frantically moving to pack up and head towards a small hill in the distance, her original destination for today. It provided a good vantage point, with little trees to obstruct her vision. Since those spirit things could pass through objects without any problem, the forest was the worst battleground possible for her. She didn't have the energy for another night spent running for her life, what she needed was a terrain where her enemies couldn't take her by surprise and pile on top of her. There was still the possibility of them popping from beneath her again, but there was nothing she could do about that.
After a thankfully slow climb, she took the oversized bag off her shoulders and started the preparations. That is to say, she devoured half of her supply of granola bars, she lit up a torchlit and pulled the dagger out of her sheath. Taylor felt her ears redden, but she felt there was not much else she could do. There were no corpses around here, and since the wraiths weren't afraid of fire, lighting more torches for a couple of extra feet of vision felt wasteful. Aside from those, nothing else in her bag could possibly help her in this situation. So she sat down with her arms hugging her legs close to the chest and stared like a hawk as the traitorous sun prepared to abandon her once more. Like everybody else.
"No, don't think like that! You still have Dad. You still have Emma!"
Finally, all too soon, the darkness started burying away her memories of the peaceful forest, letting way for a pitch-black void to swallow the earth and skies alike. All safe for her small pocket of warmth. She didn't know how long she stayed in that position: unmoving, refusing to tear her gaze away from the now empty spot in the sky. She awaited, minutes fading away into hours. With her clock back in her backpack and the clouds obscuring the moon, there was no way to tell that time was passing, perhaps it had stopped entirely. Even so, the idea of nothing happening tonight never as much crossed her mind.
Her Brand bled. Taylor worried at the sense of grim satisfaction it brought with it.
She was on her feet in an instant, both hands gripping the handle of the dagger with as much force as her hands could muster. Only now did she realize what a small thing it truly was. Paired with her long, twig-like forelimbs, it made the blade look brittle, nothing at all like that imposing sword her saviour had swung around. Still, when the wisps swirled around her in the pattern of a human face, she lashed out at it. Her swing was awkward, even a complete amateur like her could tell, yet she felt no resistance at all as the blade cut through, the disfigured visage vanishing away with a pained screech.
She looked down at her still extended arm, blinking owlishly before remembering to retract it to its place. In the corner of her life, she could see more wraiths gathering, their translucent forms clear in the darkness yet emitting no light. This time Taylor didn't hesitate before lashing out at them.
It seemed like the knight guy had been right about the full moon influencing their numbers. Whereas back then she had been pursued by unending hoards of undead, as many as blades of grass in her eyes, now she could count the number of spirits appearing at the same time on both hands. Not that she had an easy time dealing with them, however, far from it. More often than not their chilling touch managed to grab onto her limbs or hair before she could panickly slice her way to freedom. And each time that happened, the blood in her veins seemed just a bit colder, her movements losing just a touch of their previous vigor.
The voices, however, were the worst part. A cacophony of familiar voices took on a strident cadence as they huddled inside their brain to curse and degrade her. To affirm her worst fears, to shake her most stalwart beliefs. To sap away at her mind until nothing was left but an empty husk. Taylor told herself they weren't real, over and over again, even screaming it out loud as her knife plunged into what was supposed to be a creature's throat. Yet as the voices persisted on, seemingly emboldened by her rebellion, there was no helping the lone tear gathering in the corner of her eye. She wondered if this was what Simurgh victims went through.
Another spirit approached from behind; Taylor spun on heels to bisect it. She had learned very early on that she shouldn't leave her back exposed under any circumstances. She had paid enough the first couple of times she neglected this lesson. After making sure there were no more around her, she made her way towards the small group that appeared to her left. She had lost count of how many of those creatures she had already slain, but Taylor couldn't bring herself to take any pride in that. She was painfully aware of what a saddening showing she must be: a clumsy unathletic girl who can't even jump rope without tripping horrendously, now hacking away like a maniac at everything that moved. Yet, she was still alive. If she kept that up surely the sunrise was not that far-
A horrible howl pierced through her skin and reverberated in her bones.
Twin predatory glints peeked through the darkness, the sound of large paws treading through the bed of leaves heralding their approach. In a split-second decision, terror battled with her self-preservation instincts and miraculously lost. So instead of freezing in place, she was already on the move, desperately rising towards the blazing torch. Too occupied with taking out the spirits before they overwhelmed her, she didn't realize how far away from the fire the flow of the battle had taken her.
She sprinted ahead, the spectre of death looming over her as she pushed her body harder than she ever did in her life. In the next moment, razor-like teeth embedded themselves into her shoulder. Taylor cried out in the worst pain imaginable overwhelming her trembling form. She blindly stabbed behind her, her dagger clashing against a wall of flesh, but failing to penetrate properly. With a guttural growl, the monster flung her like a chewing toy before pouncing on her, the weight of its body threatening to crack her ribs as it pressed against her.
So close to its elongated jaw, she could all but taste the putrid aroma of its breath, Taylor could finally make out some of its features. It was like a pound of meat from the butcher's shop had been badly sculpted in a vaguely canine form; a giant tumour-like bulb of flesh sprouted from its face, sporting human-like features in a nightmarish fusion of man and beast. The eyes looked like they had been plucked right out of orbit and stitched next to a squashed nose and an overgrown cranium. It was horrifying, and for a moment Taylor could do nothing but stare at the atrocity that would rip her apart and devour her. Then she recognized what it was.
"A coyote!" She had been so relieved that she wouldn't be facing off against people, she hadn't even thought of the possibility that these things could possess animals as well. Just how much dumber can she get? Had she really pulled herself from that mountain of corpses only to have her throat ripped out by a goddamn coyote not even 24 hours later? She was supposed to get her answers from Emma. She was supposed to rise up to that shitty knight's challenge. She was supposed to see her father again! And now she won't be able to because SHE GOT STINGY FOR SOME FUCKING TORCHES!
Anger burned through her veins, a scorching heat that her pain and fear only seemed to fuel further. Anger at herself, anger at whoever was responsible, and most of all anger at the mongrel abomination that hovered over her, the corners of its mouth stretched as if it was making fun of her. Without ever thinking, she jammed her dagger right through its lashing tongue, cutting at the obese appendage and slamming into the back of its throat. The demon canine stumbled but didn't die. It opened its mouth wide so it could tear her arm off for good.
Only for in the next moment to be immolated in flames.
Taylor hurriedly rolled out of the way as the creature thrashed around aimlessly, his body getting consumed by the fire at an unnatural pace. Before she knew it, only a charred leg remained from its corpse. Taylor looked down at her weapon, ignoring the now all too familiar sight of her bloodstained arm. The metal shone in a soft reddish hue like it had been freshly pulled out from the heart's furnace. Squinting and sliding, she could make out small embers shaped like salamanders crawling atop its surface. Withing them she could feel her own emotions, the burning intensity of her own raging feelings given tangible form. Though the tiny lizards also had an air of playfulness to them, one that she knew was not her own. Her fingers unconsciously moved to touch one of them, but a fresh set of howls stopped her before she could do so.
Another pair of coyotes circled her, though there was a clear weariness in their all too human expressions as they looked at her. Or at her weapon, more specifically. Behind them, she could also see the tell-tale signs of wraiths forming, their wailing a remainder of their unwillingness to let their prey go. Taylor's shoulder pulsed violently, causing her to grimace in pain. Carefully, slowly, she imagined grabbing onto that feeling and slowly dragging it throughout her body towards the dagger. In response, its heat more than doubled in intensity. Taylor's lips widened into something that was not quite a smile. Her life hadn't been extinguished just yet, and she was going to make sure it stayed that way.
AN: Excited to watch Spice and Wolf. I've never gotten into the original, but the remake looks great and I want to see what the hype is all about.