“No,” I squeal again, clawing at the earth to straighten. But it’s too late. A huge arm snatches me by the waist. I collide with a massive chest of solid muscle. “No,” I repeat, pushing at thick arms that offer no give.
“Please,” I start begging instead. I want to scream when I get no response, but my throat is snared tight, my mind too frozen to send the signal there.
“Don’t let the fear win,” a deep, raspy voice whispers.
I claw through my mind in search of recognition, but I don’t find any. The fear drives harder, expanding and suffocating. But then I look down at his arm and notice the runes inked into his skin.Recognition.
I draw a sharp breath, and finally, his words register.
Don’t let the fear steer you.
This is not Asbjörn, but he’s saying the same thing. It’s a small reassurance that allows my frantic breaths to slow. But I can’t fend off the creeping panic completely.
“Let me go,” I beg, jerking against his arm that is banded around me, trapping me effectively, pinning my arms at my sides. Unheeding my plea, he starts peeling off my jacket.
“What are you doing?” I gasp, closing my eyes as I writhe, afraid to see his face again.
Still, no answer. He just leisurely frees one arm at a time to pull my jacket off, then discards it on the ground.
“Please,” I repeat, so fucking scared I can’t take it. The only thing keeping me from safewording is the echo of his words—Asbjörn’s words.Don’t let the fear win.
My captor wraps both arms around me and leans his head close to mine. He still doesn’t speak; the only sound is the swooshing of his breath against my ear, penetrating my fearful senses. It’s a calming sound—one that I allow myself to soak up and drift along with.
The fear abates as I follow his deep breaths in and out, in and out.
His tight grip around me is not threatening. It’s stabilizing.
But when he grips my arms, turns me to face him, and my eyes collide with the pits of his darkened gaze, the fear slams back in.
Widening his eyes with frightening intent, he leans close. “Run,” he sneers.
Gasping, I stumble back. Eyes locked onto his paint-distorted face, it takes me a moment for the impulse to kick in. Finally, I scramble around and rush, half-crawl up the steep trail.
On top of the hill, I throw a glance back. He’s gone. Like a shadow in the night.Did I imagine it?
The trembling rush of fear clouds my brain, the strange light of the dusky forest casting a surreal glow over my memories; I’m not sure any of it is real. I pause, just looking around. I’m all alone. There’s not a creak, not a rustle. Just the slight breeze and a bird singing the forest to sleep.
But the white, black, and red imprint of his face remains stuck at the forefront of my mind, spurring me to keep going. Up and up. The new trail he forced me onto is unforgiving. Rocks and twigs and a steep climb. I put all my attention to the task of navigating through the darkened forest, not wanting to fall and hurt myself.
When the trail reaches a new plateau, I pause and look around. Again, I’m met with choices. Going up, left, or right. Like before, the trail ahead leads into more steep territory, while the other two lead into the forest. The one to my right has a clear trail between a light scattering of trees. The forest is brighter in there, the setting sun casting its glow into a clearing ahead.
The golden light draws me in. I start walking toward it. A sign, a welcoming relief from the shadows. But just as I’m aboutto step into the clearing, a figure emerges from the trees ahead. Like the last man, his face is covered in demonic paint; unlike the last man, he’s running. Straight toward me.
With a yelp, I set off in the opposite direction. My blood rushes, my legs strain. I’m about to cross the fork and set down the other flat trail when another man steps out of the shadows and gives chase.
“No!” Panic draws in, narrowing my mind. Once again, I scramble up the steep hill, onto unsteady terrain. It’s not until I’ve reached another plateau that I can draw an effective breath and realize the demons haven’t given chase. Once again, it’s just me, the forest, and my pounding pulse that reminds me of the terrifying figures that were after me.
When I reach a fork again, I’ve learned my lesson. Instead of taking the easy path, I continue up the mountain.
The following trek is long. I just go up and up and up, the trail winding and bulging with big rocks I have to climb. Sweat beads on my brow, and my mouth begs for hydration. But despite the fear still trembling in my bones, my legs keep me steady. I quietly thank Asbjörn for all the times he took me hiking in similar terrain. I wonder if he was preparing me for this.
I’ve finally reached a steadier path when I feel a stark presence close by. Turning my head, I release a scream at the sight of a monstrous figure quickly closing in with firm steps. The moment I start running, he does the same.
“No!” I cry, putting in all my strength, but it’s no use. In a matter of seconds, he’s got me. With one arm banding around me, he has me in an unbreakable grip. I thrash against him, kicking at his legs, clawing at his sides, the fear about to get the better of me.
“Let me go,” I squeal, barely able to get the words out between my heavy pants.
“Shh,” my captor soothes, stroking his fingertips along my hairline, brushing strands out of my face. “Don’t let it win.”
