Note: All characters in the following story are 18 years of age or older. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.
*
Claire ran past the trees as fast as she could, needles scratching at her face and arms. Her lungs were on fire, but she kept racing through the forest at top speed. If she slowed down, even for a moment, she knew it would catch her. She knew what it would do.
The blood dripping from her arm was surely leaving a perfect trail. The slightest pause would seal her doom. If she could just make it to the road—
To either side of her, the trees parted, leaving her in the wide open space of a meadow. Exposed under the blue light of the full moon.
She stumbled on a gnarled old root but managed to keep herself upright. Her hands swept through the long grass, struggling to keep her balanced. She turned back for a moment and finally saw it.
The beast raised its head high, loosing a long howl into the still night air. From behind it, Claire soon heard a chorus of similar cries answer. She fell to her knees, the strength suddenly knocked out of her. Keeping low in the grass, she could only hope it hadn't spotted her in the almost featureless clearing.
Finally having a moment to think, the pain in her arm roared to life, bringing her close to wailing. But she knew enough to hold back and stay perfectly still. To leave the twigs in her hair. To restrain herself from wiping the dirt off her cheeks.
Her pursuer sniffed at the air loudly, still panting from the chase. She could feel her stomach knot as it loped into the meadow, the nearly human mass terrifyingly familiar to her young eyes. The creature howled once more, attracting another chorus from the distant woods and making Claire's teeth clench.
But she also felt an odd sensation in her chest. A rumbling of some sort. She clutched the grass in her hands, still holding onto the idea it'd miss her. It was so close now, she could smell the musk wafting off it. The rumbling in her chest grew louder.
Please God, no, she thought as the face of her tormentor, bathed in moonlight, seemed to tilt its head in her direction.
***
18 hours earlier...
"Emma! Girls! Time to get up!" Mike shouted to his sleeping family inside the tent.
The sun hadn't risen yet, and the moon just barely lit the trail leading from their camp. It was, without a doubt, the perfect time to head down to the river and catch some fish. Claire was too tired to even care. She snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag, curling up against her older sister, Hannah.
"Mmph... hun?" their mother groaned. "Why don't you go down by yourself. We need a few more winks."
"Oh, come on, Emma! This is the whole reason we came out for the weekend. Roughing it! You told me you wanted to see what the big fuss was. Well, this is why the guys come out here every month."
"Daddy, please let us sleep..." Claire whined, crushing herself even tighter against her snoozing sibling.
Mike grumbled and closed the tent flap, leaving his wife and daughters to their snooze. He would've pressed harder, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Emma could talk a good game about wanting to camp out like he did with their neighbor Frank Sawyer and his son. When it came to actually roughing it, she was a lot less enthusiastic.
At least taking the family out like this would dispel any fears of Mike and the guys enjoying something they shouldn't be. Yeah... like that would last. Even taking Frank's son Tom along hadn't kept Emma from interrogating him about Vegas weekends.
He grabbed his rod and tackle box, gave the tent one last look, and trudged off into the woods.
***
"DADDY!!!" Hannah shrieked.
The scream woke Claire instantly. Noontime sun streamed through the open tent flaps, telling her she'd already slept far too long. The sobs from outside made her positive she had to leave her sleeping bag.
Outside, she found herself screaming.
Mike dangled limply over Emma's shoulders, his shirt slashed down the front and soaked in blood. Hannah stomped around the campsite, unable to contain her panic as their mother guided him to the blankets laid on the ground.
"M-Mom," Claire breathed. "What... what happened to him?"
Emma forced Mike to drink from her canteen. "I don't know, baby. He didn't come back this morning, so I went down to the river to look for him. He's been bleeding on those rocks for hours. I'm not sure how he's still alive."
Hannah trembled as she tried to clean their dad's wounds. They both loved him, but now Claire had to admit her little sister was more attached to him than she ever was.
"I... barely even saw it," Mike panted. "It just came out of the woods and knocked me to the ground. I think it bit me."
Emma frowned and tore at the remains of his shirt. "Where, honey? I see the claw marks, but no bites."
"It was... on my shoulder." Sure enough, the cloth covering his right shoulder had been torn away and what was left looked as blood-soaked as the front. But, when Emma probed at the rip, she could find no wound.
As Hannah finished washing the deep cuts in his chest, even those didn't seem as bad as they had when Emma had found him. Still, he was too weak to move, and she didn't like the idea of him getting infected out in the middle of the woods. Even if he didn't need stitches, that water was teeming with all sorts of disease.
"Claire, we need to get to the ranger station right now."
