A Forest Cat, Chapter four: Confrontations, part 5

Danash slipped rapidly among the trees, soundless as a deer but determined as a predator. His prey had halted again and Danash was certain he would catch up with them soon. The odds were in his favour and he liked that. He would sneak up to them and take out the girl’s protector before he knew what had slid his throat. Danash sternly ignored the nagging unease at the back of his mind concerning the protector’s identity. The gleaming metal of the thin blade that he had unsheathed was not as satisfying to him as his own claws would have been but he smiled in eager anticipation nonetheless. Focused on the kill, his demon shadow extended itself over the forest, disguising his exact location from all who fell under the stifling blanket of dread.

The forest held its breath as his human eyes spotted the presence that his demon senses had already seen. Silently and slowly he advanced on them, seeing with cruel satisfaction the frantic movements of its victim’s head as it tried to determine where the attack would come from. The girl, wide-eyed and horrified, pressed herself against the tree, hugging it in an effort to comfort herself against the sense of terror that radiated from Danash.

The reflection of the moon on his blade finally betrayed him and Shane spun as he spotted the demon, sword ready. But without apparent thoughts for his safety, Danash avoided the sword and ran into Shane, throwing both men to the ground. Danash’s lightening reflexes and unexpected strength had surprised Shane utterly and he was struggling to hold the arm with the dagger away from his throat. But the demon’s strength was beyond him and slowly the dagger closed the remaining distance until he could feel the cold metal pushing against the skin.

Then their eyes met and Danash’s hand froze. His eyes widened in surprise as he looked into the golden eyes of Shane. “Itha’is?” He spoke wonderingly and then a searing flash of pain on the back of his head was followed by sudden darkness.


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About Emmy

"The urge to write is like a feverdream. And I have been dreaming for most of my life."

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