The Hellish Hound

Avery's legs quickly flew right across the wide, wide plains, heavily sprinkled with the rocks that were all sharply moulded. Beads of sweat fell onto the green, grassy ground like raindrops would, and the sound of panting breaths filled the mountainside air.

The dark-haired girl and her other friends were having the greatest chase of their life: a supposed dire, detrimental hell hound right behind them, its long tongue stuck out, licking the cold, harsh air outside.

Neatly lining the horizon were clouds coloured orange with the setting sun, which was beginning to vanish behind the tall mountains, dusted with powder-like soft snow, for it was, after all, the early start of jolly January.

The grass, though inevitably, impeccably rural and benign as ever, was shortly cut and recklessly stepped on by many wild beasts of the closer area.

Her brunette hair strands weren't held tight in her ponytail anymore, for the quick pace she was running with was starting to mess it up, and the hair tie was starting to loosen.

The shoulder straps were nattily cutting into her shoulder, the pain was sharp enough to not ignore, and yet it had to be, for if she stopped for a single, brief second, there was to be a great likelihood the ''hell hound'' will catch up and shred them to pieces for its tasty

dinner.

Her toes, tightly wrapped in the thickest socks one could buy at a footwear shop, were freezing, however, for her legs were aching from the struggle of running for her life.

The shirt that she was wearing beneath her winter sweater stuck to her damp skin, for regardless of the fact that the piercing, relentless cold, sweat was rolling down her soft skin.

The air on the hilly mountainsides was sharp with the sheer numbing, supercilious cold, but to Avery, it was rather hot and stuffy.

After swerving many of the jutting rocks of the rather quaint path, the quickly moving group of hikers spotted a collection of bijou wooden shanties.

Thoughts of hair-raising falls to death nudged and budged their way to Avery's mind, and she shuddered for a moment, before her brain was set to the task of finding a way to lose the hell hound behind them just long enough for them to take shelter in the ligneous albeit inadequate huts.

Just the plain fact that the demonic fiend had four legs and they had only two was enough to set these (in the eyes of the satanic creature himself) itty bitty humans running as fast as they could, which was really rapid, for they were marathon runners as well as mountainside hikers.

The sun, now severely dipped deep in the angles of the mountains, wasn't there to serve to the humans its radiant warmth and vivid light.

The previously paprika-coloured clouds were now a husky grey, which was soon to change, for night was approaching and with it the darkening of the skies.

The white snow, that was clearly shining in the glacial sunlight was now colourless, except for a lucky glimmer every now and then, though even that was rare.

The trees, that were vividly green in colour, were now just a grove of thick, sharp-edged mix of oak, elm, almond and anything else that could survive in the harsh cold.

Avery's eyelids were starting to droop, heavy with burdensome exhaustion and the hazel orbs within were hazy, for the quickly changing colour of the sky took an evident toll on her.

Also, unfortunately, with the coming of the dark and the night, also comes the more undomesticated, agrarian and indigenous animals that had unsatisfied wants of meaty, bloody meals of the other more frail creatures.

Stealthily and speedily, the most able lock-picker in the group unbolted the door to the only shelter they had, which took form in the wooden houses.

After bolting the big bar behind themselves, the group of exhausted walkers leaned back on the walls, slid down to sit, and heaved a very ponderous sigh of relief.

When Avery had finished catching her breath, she slid the weighty rucksack off her shoulders with practised ease, having done so every night on this thrilling trip.

Being the very much curious soul she is, Avery set down her backpack on one of the old and sagging couches, and tried to lit the fire, but eventually failing to do so, for the wood was rather damp, evident that the summer houses had been long seemingly abandoned.

Her friend, the dear James, followed her, keeping an observant and watchful eye upon her, knowing that her impeccable inquisitiveness could lead her to many darker things in the wild, especially on such an adventure in this one.

More than once, Avery, with all her innocence and added clumsiness, had very nearly fallen to her tragic death if it wasn't for the kind and helping hand of James, who was the most precautionary in all the group.

Once she reached the kitchen, she made a big racket searching in the cabinets for edibles and drinkables, and she succeeded in doing so, unlike with the first task.

Then, with unknowing innocence, she turned towards the long hallway and there, hairs all standing up in fury, red eyes blazing with animalistic desire, and outstretched claws extended far out.

Its back arched in all its iniquitous wrath and its nuzzle scrunched up together alike to a poignant frown on a human face.

In all of its inexorable, restless state of implacable hunger and desire of a proper, gory meal, there he stood, the fear of many of the adjacent villages and most of the speculative and adventurous hill-trampers.

Many had warned the current group in which Avery and James and the others were in to not go near the hell hound's habitat, which was deep in the darker, sinister woods, biding its time for a prey to unconsciously wander into its home and death trap.

The hellish hound is back.

And so is the chase.