Chapter 2

A black furred mass emerged from Salem’s shadow once his father had departed, tackling him to the ground. One big beady eye stared down at the young boy. A massive one-eyed hellhound stood over him, panting and excited. The large scar over his left eye was obscured by long dark fur. 

“What the hell, get off me, you damn tank!” 

The one-eyed dog just barked, licking the boy’s face. 

“Gods below, Ru, you act like you never see me, even though you live in my shadow, now get off!” Salem’s voice cracked with a deep wheeze, “geez, what do they feed you when I’m not looking?” 

He stood breathlessly, getting ready to take the hound outside. 

 Looking in the mirror, trying to tame his curly black hair. He sighed and looked at his thin frame; when the brutal winters and wars came, the rations dwindled and famines upon famines starved the lower-class citizens and traveling mercenaries, his family included. Putting on the heavy work clothes—overalls and a thick cotton jacket, about three sizes too big, hung loosely around his slim frame, but they would protect him from the heat of the province he and his family chose to call home this year.

“Ru, let's go,” Salem shouted from the door once he reached it. Only seconds later, the beast bounded down the stairs. The boy and his hound stepped out of the door of the temporary house. Located in one of the five major territories of Dalwin, the Ashen Waste was just as gray and flat as you would imagine.  Spread out in front of him, the field workers peppered the land, harvesting different, strange herbs and livestock.  

  Salem jumped on the dog's back, his small size dwarfed by the massive hound the size of a horse.  The pair sped across the ash-covered lands, running past the farmers who were yelling at them to slow down before they kicked up the dust.

“What are you doing, you brat. You're running on the freshly planted seedlings!”

“Sorry, Miss!” Salem tugged on his hellhound's fur, pulling him away from the scowling farmers. 

“Let's go to robins, I feel like It's been a month since I've seen her!” a strange chill at the back of his neck made him hesitate and slow the rapid speed they were going. “with all the disappearances lately…Im a little worried.”

Changing directions, Ru started running towards Robin’s small one-person hut.

As Salem approached the hut, he could tell something was wrong. 

The air was heavy and tense, the plants around his friend’s home were wilted, and the smell of something familiar hung heavy in the air; although Salem couldn’t quite place his finger on it, he knew it was nothing good. 

“Ru, stay outside.”  He rounded the corner into the house, the smell growing stronger. 

A putrid smell, but something he recognized. His heart ran fast. The door was smashed to pieces.

“Robin? ” the boy whispers, carrying in the silence of the small home. Desperation clawed at the back of his throat, hoping, praying that he was wrong and that his friend would call back to him. 

Salem looked around desperately until he heard a faint crunch from the restroom. He slowly approached the door, bracing himself for what he might see. A dark red fluid leaked from the cracks, staining the gray overalls that dragged under his shoes.

“Robin?” to his dismay, there was no reply, only the faint sound of breathing. Salem reached for the handle, slowly pushing it until the door clicked open. Nothing could have prepared him for the smell or the sight. 

The thing he had been looking upon was no longer his friend; she was a decaying corpse. Its skin was peeling off the bone, a dark liquid oozed from holes in its skin, its face a shadow of Robins. Cheeks hollow, eyes dull, skin stretched, torn, pale, and distorted, its blood seeping into the torn wrags that used to be clothing, but oddly enough, she was still alive, or more accurately, IT was alive. This thing was no longer his friend.

The Tearing of muscles and flesh off bone punctured the silence as the creature feasted upon a dead farmer boy lying limp on the floor. His arm was captured in its mouth. Salem recognized him; he was barely 15 and lived not far from Salem's home. 

Salem couldn’t think; he could barely breathe. The putrid smell seeped into his nos,e making him gag and take a step back. As his foot came down, it gave out under the sticky red blood covering the tiled floor, making him fall back with a crash, attracting its attention. Robin's Eyes, wait, no, the eyes of a predator locked on its target. It crawled towards Salem, forgetting its last victim completely, probably because he was already decaying. It was a nightmarish hunter planning its next meal —something much fresher...

“Oh no..oh my..gods no...” The boy's voice was a whimper as he crawled frantically away from the humanoid creature.

“Robin… please…” 

Salem stared hopelessly, tears flooding his face. It lunged for him; it was only a few feet away now. Salem froze and shrank in on himself, bracing for the inevitable pain that came with being eaten alive.