Shadow Hounds

Endless void out the window. You can hardly tell whether there is some kind of space whizzing past, or trees, or the gullet of some fantastically huge animal. 

Being able to see the stars helps, but the roof of the car keeps getting in the way. The landscape keeps shifting from open to covered; you think you remember mom saying you would be driving through some forests soon.

You can’t sleep. Days in the car and everything is stiff and sore. “A few more hours,” they say like they mean it. I mean, you knew it would be a long trip. Cross country is a long way to go. But staring out a small window at passing scenery that largely doesn’t change from state to state is mind numbingly boring.

A flicker in the corner of your eye, but you know better than to turn your head. You might be tired, three-quarters asleep, but you know you aren’t seeing things.

Your heart speeds up. Your breaths quicken. You strain your peripheral vision to get a better idea of what is running alongside the car. Again. Always at night, especially in the darkest places. A nightmare of sleek muscles; open, panting jaws; and long legs ending in what looks like razor sharp claws. 

All ebony black, invisible if you looked at it dead on. No discerning features in the blackness, nothing you could pinpoint to show someone else the demon dog(s) running next to the car. And yes, dogS. Sometimes it was just one (and how you know it’s the same one all the time you’ll never be able to tell). Other times there are several. Considering their color and tendency to sort of bleed or ooze over each other, it's impossible to tell exactly how many there are at times.

They run constantly beside the car, seeming to brush up against it at times. They don’t make any noise. You can’t tell if they are physical things, though the fact no one else sees them and they disappear in any light says something. Their slavering jaws drip, though it doesn’t smear on the glass nor does their breath fog the windows. They just…are.

Nothing about them really screams menace despite how they look. They don’t pay attention to the occupants of the car much, don’t seem to notice when you try to avoid their eyes. They run, eyes forward, coursing into the night with you. Suddenly, you see one dart off the road into the darker shadows under the trees. The others gather closer to the car, seeming to close ranks and become more alert as they run.

You strain your eyes in the darkness, trying to pierce the void of the deepest shadows. What would they be running after? Some kind of prey? Some kind of threat? And a threat to whom, you or them?

You slow your breathing as much as you can, try to tune out the hush of the tires and the air conditioner. You try not to think about smothering your mother for that little snore-cough she’s doing; she really can’t help it, it’s just covering up…was that a noise? A crunch-scream in the distance? Dammit, there are too many smaller noises around, covering anything up.

You start to pant and sweat, worried about what you did or didn’t hear. You keep glancing at the rest of the pack, trying to read their body language. Is that a snarl? Is that one staring off into the woods or ahead of the car? Are they moving closer, more carefully or picking up speed again and relaxing?

An interminable amount of time later, the other Shadow Hound suddenly bounds out of the blackness ahead, turning sharply to take up his place in the pack again.

You scan him, looking for any sign of what happened. Then you laugh at yourself, because how can you tell if a shadow is bleeding or hurt? 

You relax and start to drift off, finally lulled by the swaying of the car and the shushing of the tires. Your eyes close, and you sleep…

Weightlessness, briefly, then pain as you slam into the seats in front of you. Breathlessness as your body adjusts from being asleep to awake so abruptly. 

You scramble upright, or as upright as you can get, trying to get your bearings.

The car is twisted around, now facing the woods across from where you were traveling. You can see skid marks, and the front of the car is all banged up like you hit something. But there’s nothing in the road, nothing in front of the vehicle.

You check on your parents. They’re fine, but look like they got knocked out during the crash. They are both bleeding a bit, but nothing seems serious. You try to gently wake them, but don’t want to accidentally hurt them.

You look around for your phone, remembering you need to call for help. As soon as your fingers touch it on the floorboard, you feel a growl in your chest. Then, you hear the deep grumbling from outside the car.

Snapping upright, you look frantically around in front of the car, looking for whatever made that malicious sound. You see nothing, until you catch a flicker in the corner of your eye. With dread, you make yourself focus on your peripheral vision, scared to see what is making the sound.

It’s big; you can almost catch glimpses of scales as it moves, gliding around the light. This one, whatever it is, does seem to have mass. You can see the trees shifting and swaying, like there is a breeze blowing through them. But only as it passes; the others are still as stone.

You check quickly around and don’t see any of the Shadow Hounds. Were they scouting for this thing, “leading” it to you somehow? Did this thing kill them all? Or did they run when it attacked your car, because you’re fairly certain this is what caused the collision.

Impossible to tell. You couldn’t even tell whether they acknowledged your presence or not on the road, other than as an object to race.

A sound, a whistle that turns into a high pitched giggle. A howl and shriek, all in one. It repeats around the little clearing, growing louder and more melodic. Until it stops.

Suddenly you see the Hounds, lunging and leaping. Trying to keep track of the movement is impossible. You can only catch tiny fragments of glimpses from the corners of your eyes. But you can hear the yips and snarls, the sound of impact from the tussle. 

Eventually, there is a deeper, pain filled snarl that rends the air. Then crashing and banging through the trees as the high pitched howl-shriek begins again, this time sounding triumphant.

You sit there, breathing slowly as you strain to listen. A huff at the window, a brush of almost fur against that side of the car. You slide your eyes that way, to see as much as you can out of the corner.

The biggest Hound, the one you consider the leader of the pack, stares back at you and slowly blinks. He nods and you nod back, grateful for the protection.

Your parents start to stir and moan, and you remember your phone.You look down to dial 911 and glance back around you as you start to talk to the operator. You can see the pack out there, taking up a defensive perimeter. You sigh and relax, knowing you are safe from any more dangerous shadows.

The alpha stands to the side, taking up an outer perimeter watch. He looks back at the car, knowing that soon it will be time to bond with his mage. She’s almost ready; the attack tonight was proof of that. But she is strong; she did not panic, did not scream. She trusted them.

He knows they will have a strong bond. He grins fiercely, showing all of his teeth. Yes, they will work nicely together.