Bare feet slapped against the dried leaves in an uneven rhythm not that dissimilar to the way to the way the boy’s heart slapped against his ribcage. His breath burned in his chest. Fenn barely noticed the thorny branches tearing at his face and cloak as he fled through the undergrowth. Nor did he notice the clouds of fog that he dashed through, beads of water freezing to his skin at a worrisome speed. His magic pulsed at his fingertips, frightened frost coating him from nail to elbow.

Were they still behind him?

A root met his toes — and held fast. All the momentum of his flight carried him flat onto the ground. Fenn lay amid the dead leaves a moment, wheezing, wondering why staying alive had to be such hard work. Aching numbed him, head to toe.

It was impossible to pull himself back to his feet. At the least, he managed a trembling slump against a nearby stump.

He flicked limp hair out of his eyes. Coming to a standstill like this was not ideal. Yet… Honestly, he needed rest. Technically, he had left the monsters behind. Theoretically, he was safe. Really though, the puck was frightened out of his damn mind.

Were they still there? Were they still behind him?

The Clemonts mansion, the Clemonts mansion. A part of him was sure that somehow, what he had just encountered had to do with it. What else brought visions of breathing, writhing fungus to mind? Fenn‘s eyelids slid half-closed. He could almost fall asleep now. Almost, except for the images that clawed his eyes each time they closed.

Slimy skin, and the teeth rotting out of their heads. Human faces smothered by grey-green stalks of mold. Chittering amongst each other.

There was a rustling in the undergrowth. Ponderous footsteps crushed the leaves — he could hear it, and his heart rushed back into his ears. The crunching, the snapping twigs. His ears swiveled toward the sound.

And… Fenn squeaked at the dark, bulky creature that stood out against the undergrowth. Sweet relief! It was his merely his mutt. Now that they were reunited, they could run the fuck out of this nightmare land. But instead of greeting him with her typical reassuring “wuff”, the black beast simply stepped out of the bushes and turned to face him, quiet as a mouse.

The stalks protruding from her eyelids swayed in the breeze.