I rubbed my hands, hoping to warm them on the small fire. A lone owl hooted as I blew on the smouldering embers. I looked over my shoulder, hoping nobody was watching me. The lone night was frightening me. Even after a couple of nights alone, I couldn’t get used to going to bed without Danny. Some habits were hard to break. Impossible. After all, I hadn’t been on my own for over ten years.

I decided to retreat back to the tent, hoping that the flimsy fabric would give me some sense of protection. I knew it wouldn’t stop anyone, but at least it felt somewhat secure.

With nerves bubbling in my gut, I curled up in my sleeping bag. The cold air brushing over my skin elicited goosebumps Danny would usually still.

The last time I was apart from her, I was a teenager. A young man that didn’t know any better and hadn’t loved like the old sack I was now. A boy who didn’t realise he’d be changing his future when he went to talk to the pretty redhead.

I fluffed up the pelts and shivered. It really was cold without Danny to warm me up. She was so nice and comfortable to snuggle with in the lonely nights. I even missed Regan’s heavy breathing and Darren’s snoring. They were less cuddleable, but still, I enjoyed having them in the tent with me. They made Danny feel safe and that made me feel safe. I hoped they were taking good care of her without me, but I had no doubt they were. They were good men and I trusted them to protect her with their life.

“F-Fuck, it’s cold.” I patted my shoulders and rubbed my arms, hoping to warm myself up. Even on my own, I just couldn’t get rid of my stupid stutter. The only times I managed to shake it was in emergencies and as much as the cold was annoying, it was not that bad.

The sound of a snapping branch jolted me out of my thoughts and I sat up right, holding my breath so I could hear everything.

Was he here?

Five seconds passed and a cricket chirped next to the tent. Not good enough.

Ten seconds… The wind brushing through the trees and the rattle of branches.

Fifteen seconds. A stray drop of water falling on the tent.

Twenty seconds. Silence apart from the thundering of my heartbeat. I reached for the dagger under my pillow and noted the irony. I teased Darren so many times about sleeping with his knife and here I was, doing exactly the same thing the moment I was on my own.

Thirty seconds. I clenched the handle tight and waited.

Crack.

Another branch. That couldn’t be coincidence. The blood rushed through my veins and my heart beated out of my chest. He was here.

Panic flooded through me and for a moment, I wasn’t sure whether to fight or run. Did I even have time to flee? Did it make a difference? Wouldn’t he just find me again and again?

That was what he did. He chased me and he chased me until I had nowhere to run. But maybe I could just do that. Flee. Run. Hide. Disappear.

No. I didn’t want to run anymore. That was why I was here. To stop this madness, to stop the chase.

But what was I supposed to do? Should I get up and attack first? Or perhaps pretend to be asleep and jump him when he least expected it?

Fuck, what was I supposed to do? How was I going to get out of this?

Before I could decide, the tent came crashing down. The fabric entangled my limbs and the twang of a struck knife resounded in my ears. I turned to face the weapon and once more, saw my own startled reflection. Eyes of fear and a complexion white as a ghost. I looked every bit as terrified as I felt.

The blade was withdrawn and I took the moment of respite to swipe the legs of the man standing over me. With a thud and a scream, the Butcher lost his balance and I scrambled up from the shambles of my tent. Dirt, twigs, and leaves flew around as I ripped my knife through the fabric and tore it to pieces. The small fire in the open space illuminated the forest and I found the heavy silhouette of the man I feared so much crawling back up. A chill ran down my spine as I clenched the heft of the dagger even tighter. The Butcher got up and flashed me his toothy grin, sweat trickling down his forehead.

This was a sight I saw before and a memory I hadn’t managed to shake.

With arms and legs bound, I looked up at the man standing over me. He laughed, his breath chortling with phlegm as he circled around me.

“Let’s play a little game, Jean-Pierre.”

My leg twitched nervously, and my stomach hardened. Like I expected, the Butcher wasn’t planning on releasing me without a dent, regardless if I spoke or stayed silent. His dirty hands grabbed a fistful of my hair and with a snap, he yanked my head back. He pried open my mouth with his fat fingers and I gagged from the taste of metal and ash.

“It is more fun if I can hear you scream,” The Butcher grinned, pulling the cloth from my mouth and discarding it onto the floor. Probably to be reused for his next victim. I stared at the dirty rag and wished my mind was far away.

“Where to start, so many fingers, so many toes,” the Butcher sang, pressing the flat side of his cleaver against various spots on my body. I ground my teeth, trying to escape from the abuse. The cold steel against my skin made it hard to refocus, and my teeth couldn’t stop chattering.

“Trying to escape in your brain, Jean-Pierre?” The Butcher grinned, pushing up my chin with the metal tool, forcing me to abandon my safe spot on the ground. “I won’t let you. You’ll be here for the whole time.”

With tears welling up in my eyes, I faced the brute as I desperately tried to flee from the moment I was in. But with my knees hard on the cold ground and the roughness of the rope streaming into my wrists, it was hard to forget my body. It was hard to forget what I had gotten myself into. It was hard to forget the pain. And it was almost impossible not to fear the pain that the Butcher promised.

Don’t give in, don’t give in, don’t give in, I chanted in my head, trying to cross my eyes and make the frightening sight in front of me blurry.

“Let’s see, do you need your pinky finger?” the Butcher asked as he brushed the blade over my hand. A first tear drew a cold line on my muddy face as it rolled down my cheek. Yes, I needed my pinky finger. But even a tremble, a blink, a twitch would reveal how much I wanted to keep my limbs and would guarantee me losing it.

With a bravery I didn’t know I had, I lifted my head and faced the bully in front of me. I would not give this man the pleasure of seeing me whimper and cry. I wouldn’t break. I couldn’t. I had something to protect, something that was worth all the pain I had. Something that was worth more than my life.

Danny.

There wasn’t a thing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe, to keep her alive. And if that meant being the Butcher’s next plaything, that was the price I would pay for her.

I felt a twitch at the corner of his mouth and realised that even in a dire situation like this, the thought of Danny and her red locks could still make me smile. Even if my body was too exhausted to move, or talk, or even breathe, it still remembered Danny. It would always remember Danny. Her soft fingertips that had caressed my skin time and time again as she assured me she was mine. The way her laugh always vaguely reminded me of summer and the fresh scent of star anise that seemed to envelop her everywhere she went. The way her eyes lit up everytime she looked at me or how her voice always sounded a bit softer when she said my name. Danny, the woman I fell in love with. Danny, the woman that my children would call ‘mother’. Danny, the woman with the wolf.

With a hard slap against my cheek, the Butcher pulled me. out of my thoughts and brought me back to the cold, harsh reality.

“No dreaming for you, boy,” he growled, looking positively annoyed that I was trying to escape in my mind and memories.

A slap against my face pulled me out of the past and the next smack made me see stars. Dazed, I tumbled to the ground and clawed my fingers in the gritty dirt. Determined to keep myself alive, I ground my nails into the earth and catapulted myself back up.

I slashed the Butcher’s leg and the blood gushing out gave me a boost of confidence. I could do this. I just had to. The exhaustion was already setting in, but I had no time to pause or stop or even breathe. The briefest moment of hesitation, the slightest hint of doubt, the shortest flicker of weakness and he’d have me right where he wanted me. With his fat hands clenched around my neck, an inch away from death with excruciating pain coursing through my veins.

I curled my fingers around the heft of my dagger and danced around the heavy man. For once, my slender build was an advantage rather than a hindrance. With an elegance that his hefty body could never match, I darted around him. Slash after slash, I drew bloody lines in his flesh. Cut after cut, I drew pus and pain from his limbs. Dash after dash, I dealt him a taste of his own medicine. Something he long had coming for him.

The Butcher roared and stormed towards me in the same fashion a bull would attack. I prepared to jump out of the way and got caught up by the twines of my fallen tent. The string tangled around my ankle and stole my high ground.

A grubby fist pulled me up by my hair and the stank of rotten food wafted in my nose. The Butcher laughed, the spittle flying from his brown teeth onto my face. He tightened his fist and the pressure almost pulled the hairs out of my skull.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, Jean-Pierre?” he chortled, yanking me from left to right. The tight grip on my hair was excruciating and I clawed at his arms. With no use. He just laughed at my pathetic attempt and kicked me in the ribs. The metal tip of his boots dug deep into my chest and knocked the wind right out of me.

I pressed my lips tight on each other, refusing to make a sound. No matter how much he hurt me, I couldn’t show any weakness. I couldn’t let him get to me. I needed to escape, but there was no way I’d manage to worm out of his claws. All there was, was to leave from my mind. I closed my eyes and drew images of Danny to the front, hoping to wash the pain away.

“No, you don’t.” The Butcher threw me into a tree and my bones groaned as I hit the ground afterwards. Before I knew what was happening, ropes streamed into my chest as he wound me to the rough bark of the tree. He grabbed me by the wrist and forced my arm out in front of me. I couldn’t contain the tremor of fear running through me and I knew he felt it. I could tell by the excitement in his eyes.

“Now we can finally get to business, Jean-Pierre.”