Blackened Earth

The monster rushed through the forest, her physical form merging and scattering through shadows created by the bright moonlight. Her form bounced along the ground of fallen leaves, hid briefly in alcoves of large, barren trees, and moved onward despite the stagger from weakness in her determined strides. Her overall form wasn't definitive, a mix of dark ooze and shadows, creeping and cascading through the scant verdant of mid autumn.

Behind her, the sounds of the hunters came ever closer. They stood on two legs and four, and save for the sound of jingling metal and footfalls, they didn't make a sound; even the dogs and horses remained silent.

She couldn't outrun them for long.

The blackness of her formless body crawled up a tree, then skinny, pale arms developed to show she held something in her arms. Vibrant red eyes glowed in the darkness upon a pale face twinkling with inky tears, and she looked at the small form in her arms.

Her son. He was still and quiet, yes, but the movement of his eyes behind pale eyelids told her he was there. He had a chance.

After thirteen months of near-starvation, the fact she managed to carry him not only to full term but also birth him gave her just the courage and adrenaline she needed to break free of the hunters' prison.

But she was weak. Blessed silver and holy water; a deadly combination against her kind.

A shuddering breath, unnecessary but reflexive, escaped her, and she held her son closer to her chest. She looked beyond the fruitless and dead trees, her sight magnifying and locking onto the hunters in the distance. Memories of their abuse made her all but emit a sob.

She couldn't outrun them any longer.

More dark tears fell from her eyes, and she slithered back to the ground to meld with the shadows. There was only one way to save her son, her only surviving child of nine.

She called the earth to aid her, and to her relief, it hastily responded. The ground beside her moved, creating a small hole six feet deep and perfectly wide enough for an infant.

For the last time, she cradled her child against her chest, murmuring to him and embedding words in his psyche.

The rustling was almost upon her. She lowered her son into the earth, using her shadows to wrap around him and gently place his body in the depths. The soil twisted and covered the hole moments after, hiding her child from view. The ground rolled, hardened, and a chill passed, covering the spot with fallen leaves.

Not even an animal would know something was buried there.

Tenderly, she placed a hand over the plot and closed her eyes.

She took a moment.

She spun around, eyes glowing with hatred as the hunters finally beheld her. The once-quiet woods came to life with loud barking from the dogs and the shrill neighs of horses when she spread the full width of her massive yet broken wings. Red tentacles emerged from behind her head and from within her gaping mouth of needle-thin teeth, a display of intimidation, as she held her ground.

Mere seconds passed before the hunters opened gunfire. Moving with all the remnant power and energy she held, she swiftly dodged and slithered between the bullets with seemingly uncanny ease. Slinking into the earth, she spread herself along the dirt and leaves, reaching for and seizing all hunters and animals within her reach with black tendrils. Before a single shout could emit from them, she brought them deep into the ground, their upper bodies and heads struggling to stay above the soil.

Vials of shining clear liquid shattered upon contact with her shadows, resulting in her pained screams. The parts of her body touched by the holy water became corporeal, allowing a single command to set the dogs on her limbs. She shrieked, steaming and bleeding, and could no longer hold her shadowy form.

Her body gathered and shrunk, returning to a more humanoid shape. The tentacles behind her head reached for a distant branch, and she pulled herself back just as more bullets penetrated her thin flesh.

A sudden slice to her tentacles sent her crashing down, and leaves and dirt kicked up as she skidded over the ground. More dogs sieged her. Before she could claw at them, thick consecrated rope snagged her body, keeping her arms pinned. She screamed in continuous agony, too weak to break free. An entire wash of holy water fell over her body, causing her skin and flesh to boil morbidly.

There were many hunters; at least two groups, making it a total of ten men. She snapped and hissed, spat and growled. They did not flinch.

The apparent leaders strode forward, both wielding unsheathed blessed swords. They spoke to one another in sardonic tones, smirking and shaking their heads. She heard their words. They called her pathetic, they assumed she killed her child, and they quipped at one another over who would get the final blow.

They called the dogs away, and she fell over, prone on the cold earth. They approached, one man placing both hands on his sword grip with the blade pointing downward, and the other man revealed a large vial of holy water.

Red eyes filled with black tears closed one final time.

With the moon as chief witness, the woods watched as the sword beheaded her. She made not a sound, and another wash of holy water fell over her body.

For several seconds, her body boiled. It boiled, then pooled into a reddish black liquid before disappearing into blackness, leaving not a remnant behind.

The hunters cheered at a successful kill.

An unfair kill.

But in their eyes, those who hated and hunted monsters, there was no such thing.

A slight breeze fell over the spot her son was buried. He would not rise again for several centuries.

But she left him a message embedded in his mind in the form of a faint memory:

Sleep; sleep long,

Feed to fill,

Hide forever,

Run, my child, and never leave the woods.