Chapter Twelve

My heart pounding and my muscles burning with the exertion, I run. The cold light of the moon shines down on me and the earth is soft beneath my feet. I feel free. I feel amazing. I've never felt this good before.

I stop beside a small creek and look around. Even though the forest around me is cloaked in inky-black shadows, I can see as clear as day. My senses are sharper than they've ever been. Raising my head, I catch a scent on the soft breeze that rustles the bushes.

Blood.

The hunger that rises up within me is powerful. Overwhelming. And I find myself drawn to the scent of the blood. I move through the undergrowth of the forest, my footsteps quick, but silent. I can smell the man. He's not far off. The fire in his campsite has burned low and the soft sound of his snoring is audible to me.

Creeping to the edge of the campsite, I see his tent. Smell him inside. I step into his campsite, see the small grill set up over the remains of the fire and can smell the remnants of his last meal.

All around me, the world is silent and blanketed with a sense of expectation. It's as if the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. But then, out of the darkness nearby, drifts the soft hooting of an owl. It draws my gaze upward, and I can see the moonlight reflecting off of the bird's eyes.

The owl sits on a branch in the darkness looking down on me. Judging me. I don't like to be judged.

Picking up a rock, I hurl it at the bird. It strikes the trunk with a resounding thud that echoes around the woods.

“W- what?” I hear the man say inside of his tent, a note of fear in his voice. “Who's there? Who's out there?”

I hear him rustling around, no doubt pulling on his boots. The next thing I hear though, sends a chill through me. It's the sound of a gun being cocked. The sound of the tent being unzipped fills the small campsite and I see the beam from a flashlight cutting through the darkness.

The light falls on me and the man's scream pierces the silence of the night. I'm already moving when the sound of gunshots erupt. I don't fear being seen as I move from pocket of shadow to pocket of shadow.

I'm too quick. Blend into the night too well. He can't see me or hear me moving. I flit from tree to tree, hearing his bullets slamming into the trunks all around me, none of them even coming close to me. Then the shooting stops. The man is reloading.

Dropping down from the tree branch above his tent, I'm face to face with the man. His eyes widen, and he begins to tremble. The man's mouth falls open and the scream that issues from him is long, loud, and echoes long and far into the night.

~ooo000ooo~

I sit bolt upright in my bed, a scream in my throat. My heart is thundering, my body is shaking, and there is a foul taste in my mouth. The fragments of the dream still clinging to me like cobwebs.

It's just another nightmare, but this one just felt so different. This one felt more real than all the rest. Instead of being a spectator, watching everything happen, this time, I felt like I was the one in the dream. Like I was the creature in the darkness hunting that man.

It was just so much more real. So much more immediate than any of the other nightmares that have gripped me.

Feeling like I'm about to throw up, I jump out of bed and run to the bathroom. Stumbling through the doorway, I drop to my knees in front of the toilet and throw up. My body spasms as I heave again and again, long after I have nothing left in my body to throw up.

Forcing myself to my feet, I flush the toilet and flip on the light, looking at myself in the mirror for the first time. And when I see myself, my heart stutters in my chest, threatening to stop altogether. The face looking back at me is drawn and pale. My hair is a wild mess with bits of leaves and twigs stuck into it. But the thing I can't take my eyes off is the dried blood around my mouth.

I reach up and touch it, hoping that it will disappear like some scrap of my nightmare when I do. But, the dried blood flakes off and drifts lazily to the floor. I watch it go and feel my eyes grow wide when I see that my feet are covered in mud.

The dream comes back to me with the force of a nuclear bomb, driving me to my knees. My body is racked with sobs as the face of the man in the tent comes back to me. The taste of blood fills my mouth once more and my stomach churns. Hugging my arms over my stomach, I lean forward until my forehead is resting on the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

“What's happening to me?” I whisper. “Oh, God. What have I done?”