Chapter 4: very bad, bad, bad things happen

We followed Mr. Wilkinson deeper into the woods, the path too mangled to feel familiar anymore. The area was quieter than it had any right to be.

“I think it’s getting closer,” Rowan murmured, panic clear as he tugged on my sweater sleeve with urgency. He was right, creeping cold unease rose in my stomach, dread of something evil narrowed my vision.

Mr. Wilkinson forged the path, scanning the underbrush.

“Just a little further,” he said warmly, but I could tell even he was beginning to not believe that. Then a branch snapped, not from our group. Something heavy was moving just beyond the trees. We all stopped. A shape emerged from its shadowed forest. Tall and staggering, antlers like splintered wood and eyes like molten glass. It stared at us with carnivorous desire, but seemed confused. Its gory yellowish eyes seemed to be searching for something, someone, maybe. Rowan’s grip tightened around his remaining necklaces, that's when I remembered I was wearing Rowan’s necklaces, me, Rowan, and Lukas were safe. Mr. Wilkinson stepped in front of us, protective and steady.

“Stay behind me,” He said, but then, something else moved. Deeper In the woods, a flicker of orange fur, a flash of yellow. 

The forest shifted again, even the quiet as death atmosphere seemed to breathe around us. 

The stag staggered forwards, malice condensing into a physical form as it approached. 

All but too soon it froze, as if deep ancient instincts sensed a greater force growing impatient. 

The fox pulled itself from the shadowed brush, its legs sticky and bent wrongly. Its fur hung in heavy uneven dry clumps like leaves were plastered onto its skin. Everything was twisted at angles, bending and jerking together in ways that made my stomach churn. The very space it took up rippled, as if it were a folder crammed into an already bursting desk. Rotted produce and wet leaves met my noise sourly, as if roadkill and all its grime came with it.

Like it was photoshopped into our path, it had matching eyes of the stag, the only difference was the foxes' had patience was born of centuries.

“You’re not ready for harvest just yet,” its charcoal lips pried apart to reveal rows of teeth and a view courtesy of the pits of hell. As if it were floating, or rather stalking, it approached the stag. Despite the deer being the much larger creature, it stumbled back. Clicking bones, teeth, and claws struck the ground sending jolts of primal and instinctive fear for the beast who was clearly anticipating something horrible. Unsure and jerky as the fox still impeded on the deer. In barely a hair’s breadth of a second, a dampening weight fell over the forest and my vision blurred. I jerked my head disorientedly in the direction ahead of me. Black nothingness climbed over me, for the briefest moment I wanted to curl into a tight ball and let myself turn to dust.

A screeching, uncannily inhuman wail came from the deer as blackish blood streamed down its broken neck like oil. Its head swung nearly upside down with nothing supporting its slender crane of a cervix. My eyes watered at the scent of rotting roadkill which wafted from the wound. I shut them quickly, snarls and screams that wouldn’t stop for what felt like hours echoed in the trees. Once everything was quiet and the shrieks were no longer, I shakily lifted my palm from my eyes. 

The stag was no more. In its place was the steaming, blackened, body of a monster ripped muscle from muscle, tendon from tendon, tooth from tooth, and an equally horrifying fox bearing its dark snout in a disgusting grin. 

It turned towards us then, I gripped Lukas’ arm with all the remaining strength I had– not very much, every muscle in my body fell numb and trembled– 

Rowan didn’t dare move. I saw him replaying the deer’s death in his eyes, I was watching him unravel in real time with the rest of us. 

“S-stay back,” Mr. Wilkinson’s voice grounded me for a moment and brought me back into my body. “Shoo, shoo!” The teacher scrambled to his feet, I hadn’t noticed he’d fallen to his knees.

“Insolent man, today you may have left here alive.” The fox spoke fluently, a chorus of choked voices filtered into something the devil would use to broadcast announcements in hell.

“But your despicable insistence to disregard me, a divine entity to the common beast will be your last mistake.” One more heavy wet blanket weighed down on us. A bare second of dizzy, fuzzy unrealness before a wet snap broke the air’s dampened aura. 

I couldn’t scream, I felt my mind leave my body and watched as a spectator while a good man was maimed to puddles. The savage monster turned to me, red mixing with the black from earlier.

“I’d love to consume your soul right now ‘Aven-Raven,’” the fox’s grin widened impossibly further with an unquenchable hungering for… something. Leaving bile rising and choking me out.

“However, you and your friend,” a yellow pointed, and calculating look passed over Lukas.   

“You aren't quite ready just yet. I look forward immensely to the 1st.” It creaked and gradually faded into shadows. 

The earth seemed to spin. A sick, salty bitterness welled in my throat. I needed to throw up. 

I emptied whatever I ate this morning into the nearest pile of dry leaves. Lukas awkwardly held my  hair back, I didn’t realize it came undone from its braid. Heavy black waves that strayed from his fingers fell over my eyes.

Not that I cared too much, if it were up to me, it would be less than shoulder length, but dad always enjoyed brushing it through in the mornings he didn’t need to leave for work early.

Dad. I checked my wristwatch, 15:04, I’d completely forgotten. 

“Hey, at least we aren’t worried about your dad getting eaten by a cursed deer anymore, right?” Lukas said weakly, almost reading my mind. 

“Yeah, but another dad got ripped to oblivion because he tried to save us!” I cried. 

Mr. Wilkinson had a wife and– 

– and two kids in the grades above us. 

I hesitated before deciding to examine Mr. Wilkinson’s body, but perplexion set in rather than perturbation. I scanned our clearing, he wasn’t there. 

The sick, gut churning feeling arose almost immediately again as I realized we weren’t even in the same part of the woods. Pressure built behind my eyes, the buildup was overwhelming.

Beads of fat tears ran down my cheeks, I didn’t even know where we were anymore. The whole point of me leaving my house into the forest was to guide my friends safely back to Rowan’s home. Silence stretched uncomfortably far– no one was in the mood to talk anymore– until all three of us flinched at a whirring, motorized sound. Loud, jolting, mechanical, and ground breakingly normal.

“Is that… a lawn mower?” Rowan asked, but he still seemed dazed and out of it.

“That– that can’t be,” I sputtered, “we were far deeper in the woods,” That much, at least I knew. But sure enough, just a few feet out of the clearing, sunlight met asphalt. This was cruel, making us go halfway insane getting lost in the tangle of the road only to deposit us practically on Rowawn’s doorstep.

Even if it was a trap, we were all eager to leave the woods. I cast one more glance into the treeline, searching for even a clue of the man who’d just lost his life. 

Mrs. Takoda wasn’t home when we knocked. Panic was clouding my vision. Luckily, Rowan had a key. He let us in, Lukas and I beelined for the guest bathroom, I splashed water on my face while he was discreetly palming his eyes. 

“Aven,” He said after a minute, neither of us looked at the other. We didn’t need to. “You know that– those…” his voice broke. he decided against talking anymore, I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I had half a thought, he still knew nothing about any part of what we’d just been through. He abruptly got up and whispered something about Rowan waiting for us in the living room.