The King's Shadow

Willow took a breath as she looked around once again. Where was the path, again? Was it to the left? Wait, no, it was to the right. Fuck she couldn't remember. Each tree looks identical to the others, and she swears she passed that same bush three times already. She had to face the facts.

She was lost.

Not only was she lost, but she was also losing daylight as well. She cursed under her breath as she realized maybe leaving her phone back in the car wasn't the best choice given the current circumstances. Honestly, Willow thought a hike through the woods without her phone going off every two minutes was going to be relaxing, but there was nothing relaxing about this.

Maybe she should backtrack? As Willow turned, a sudden gust of wind whipped her blonde hair around her face, brushing the strands from her eyes. She swore she heard a twig snap behind her. Glancing back, she strained her eyes to look through the dense foliage, but there was nothing but trees, trees, and more trees for what seemed like eternity. Regardless if it really was a twig or not, Willow couldn't shake the all too creepy feeling that she was being watched.

"Hello?" She called out.

Waiting for a heartbeat longer, she listened but heard nothing, no animal scurrying away from the noise or the sound of someone responding; it was just the sound of the trees. Small birds chirped in the distance while the wind rustled the leaves in a rhythmic tune. It was almost peaceful if she wasn't currently lost in the middle of two thousand-acre woods.

The first step forward felt wrong, but she had to keep pushing forward. Willow couldn't help but remember some survivor show she watched whenever ago telling her to stay and wait for help to come to you. When she watched it she remembered giggling thinking how on the earth could someone get lost in the woods, now she wished she'd payed more attention to that episode. Trying to recall every detail she could remember she felt the light bulb moment where you were to signal which way you were going so when the search party did start looking they had a path to follow. Kneeling to the leaf liter she collected a few sticks and twigs and brushed away the leaves till a clear dirt clearing was left. Rearranging the sticks into an arrow pointing forward she pushed herself up.

Hands on her hips she nodded at the makeshift signal before carefully stepping over them. Pushing forward she continued into the woods, looking for anything that seemed familiar. Every so often Willow would stop and make another makeshift beacon of sticks pointing forward. When she kneeled to clear another path she stopped short, her palm hovering over what clearly looked like a boot print in the mud. It was much bigger than her standard converses and they were heading the same direction as she was going. Maybe if she found them they could help get her back to her car? Her heart lurched forward as she strained to follow the tracks, having no idea how to actually track anything in her life she pushed on.

Willow kept her eyes fixated on the forest floor, she had walked for so long her neck was beginning to ache, all while her stomach thought it was the perfect time to protest she had been out her for hours with no food. In her mind she was rehearsing what she would say the moment she found someone.

'I'm so sorry. But I got turned around.'

She shook her head slightly, trying to not to focus on the embarrassment. Willow was straining now to see in the darkness, each divot or dip in the ground looked identical to the prints. Leaning forward just a bit more she squinted her eyes. Was she still following the right path? It dawned on her she couldn't see anything properly, her green eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding her. She tried to focus on any slight noise that could lead her but the birds had stopped chirping , the wind had died down to nothing and now the only thing she could hear was the frantic thumps of her racing heart in her own ears.

Willow stepped slowly through the darkness with both arms forward guiding her, each spiderweb made her stomach twist in a knot. Even now she could swear she felt one crawling across the back of her neck. The leaves rustled under her shoes as she took slow agonizing steps towards the unknown. Then a smell hit her, so aggressively it made her eyes water.

Smoke.

A campfire to be exact. She stopped, lifting her head slightly as she smelled the air. It was a normal cozy smell but to her it was a lifeline. Where there was a campfire, there was bound to be campers, which meant she was saved. Pushing forward at a quicker pace, she used her hand to guide her between the thick trees. Briars and thorns cut at her jeans, jacket sleeves and even her face. Each sting causing her to wince as she kept forcing herself to keep walking. In the distance she could see it, the soft amber glow of a fire. Quickening her pace, she could see a clearing.

Willow was just shy of running towards the fire, and now she could hear laughter, she couldn't tell how many people were ahead but at least two men. Finally she was saved. Breaking through the brush she tripped, falling forward onto a cleared path. The force of the trip had her falling forward, unable to even brace herself as she fell flat on her chest, the air escaped her lungs with an audible wheeze. The group ahead fell silent as she groaned looking up to see four men sitting around a campfire. They were dressed in hunting camo with rifles leaned beside them. It didn't really make sense that people would be hunting this time of the year but she didn't care.

"I-I got lost." She admitted.

One man stood from his fallen log seat, looking at his fellow group before his eyes fell back on her. He was tall, much taller than her 5'2 height. He appeared in his early forties with pitch black hair.

"What the hell were you doing in the woods at this hour?"

His voice slurred slightly, and as Willow pushed herself off the ground she could see countless empty beer cans scattered around the men. Dusting off her jeans she watched them.

"I got turned around earlier today. I thought I knew where I was going but I guess not." She tried to steady her breath.

Willow was exhausted, walking through the woods all day had her limps feeling like lead. The man who stood glanced back at his friends who returned his gaze before they all focused on her once more. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling uneasy with all eyes on her.

"Do you think one of you could point me in-"

"Where's your group?" One of the men still sitting cut her off, tilting his head back to take a large swig from his beer can before crushing it and tossing it to the side.

Hesitating, Willow bit her bottom lip. "I uh, I'm alone."

She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand as she saw their eyes darken. A knot formed in her throat when the man standing grinned.

"We can take you back to the road, but you gotta do something for us first."

The leader took a step toward her, the heat from the fire at his back making him nothing more than a jagged silhouette. "Come on, darlin'. Don't look so scared," he cooed, his voice thick with the smell of cheap lager. "We're just lookin' for a little... appreciation for our hospitality."

Willow's heels dug into the dirt as she backed away, her heart hammering so hard it felt like it would crack her ribs. The "peaceful" woods were gone. The amber glow of the fire, once her beacon of hope, now felt like the entrance to a furnace. She glanced at the dark wall of trees behind her, the same trees she had been terrified of just minutes ago, and suddenly, the abyss looked a lot safer than the light.

"I think I'll just go back the way I came."

Willow turned on her heel, ready to bolt for the safety of the brush when a strong hand gripped her wrist stopping her in her tracks. She looked back to see the leader of the group holding onto her. Her heart hammered in her chest, eyes wide as she couldn't make out his facial features.

"P-please let me go." She begged, her voice cracking with fear.

The man chuckled, "you're being rude." He glanced back to the other three. "What do you think?"

The once sitting men were now standing, closing the distance. They seemed to chuckle in union at her fear. Willow's shoulders dropped as she tried to shrink away from the men, but the grip on her wrist was becoming painful. Wincing she tried to pry the man's fingers from her skin.

"Let go!" She commanded with a shaky voice.

The leader's fingers dug deeper into her skin causing her to cry out, tears started to burn the back of her eyes. He laughed then. The sound making her stomach twist as nausea started to build. He leaned in his breath hot in her face as the stench of beer caused her to grimace.

"Now, where do you think you're going? It's not safe in the woods alone. There could be monsters in there."

Willow caught the shimmer of a handgun in the corner of her eye, whipping her head to the side she could see one of the men slightly shorter than the others was holding a pistol in his right hand. Her heart dropped like lead to the pit of her stomach. Alarms ringed in her head, as she thrashed. Trying everything and anything to break the grip when she felt another hand grab her pony tail yanking her head back as she cried out.

Her scalped burned as her head was snapped back, staring up at the darkened canopy, a single tear broke free. Screaming out for someone to hear her, to save her. The men laughed at her pleas.

"We are in the middle of nowhere, no one is com-"

The leader's words trailed off when a rhythmic clicking echoed through the woods around them. It sounded like it was coming from above. Willow could see the man who was holding the pistol step back, while the two others still painfully held onto her. She struggled to breathe, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Was she saved?

The rhythmic clicking didn't just echo; it seemed to vibrate through the air, a series of rapid, metallic trills that didn't belong to any bird or insect Willow had ever heard.

The man holding her hair froze, his fingers twitching against her scalp. "What the hell was that?" one of the others whispered, his slurred bravado replaced by a sharp, jagged edge of fear.

The forest, which had been silent only moments before, now felt alive with a presence that made the four armed men look like children playing in the dirt. Above them, a heavy branch groaned under a weight that wasn't there.

Willow's eyes flew open, straining to see past the amber glow of the campfire. For a split second, the air itself seemed to shimmer, a ripple of distorted light against the stars—before a low, guttural growl rolled through the clearing like distant thunder.

"What the fuck was that?" The leader snapped.

The ground erupted in a sudden vibration as the ground not ten feet from the crushed under the weight of something not there. It looked as if the sky opened and dropped something but nothing stood there. The leader was suddenly yanked back, his grip on Willow's hair sent her tumbling backward as she yelped in pain. The men scattered, while she shifted back. Something was attacking them but she couldn't see it. The man who held the pistol suddenly fired into the distance. A roar that pierced through the air caused her ears to ring louder than the gun had. Pulling her knees to her chest she covered her ears as tight as she could. The ground shifting, sending vibrations through it. The man with the gun was suddenly ripped in two. His cry died out in a gargle wet sound.

Willow refused to open her eyes, refused to uncover her ears until there was nothing but a heavy animalistic breathing. Slowly she looked up, pulling her hands free from her head. Her scalp still burned from the grip but in the darkness she could see a trail of neon green liquid dripping down from what looked like a hole. But there was nothing there. Her gaze followed the steady drip to the dirt where the ground was indented as if something larger than a bear stood there. The fluid moved slightly as if it was breathing.

Standing on shaky legs, she stepped closer. Nothing was there, right? She could see past the neon color and noticed a large tree was snapped close to the roots. Jagged, splintered wood looked like jaws from a monster. The ground around her was soaked in blood and body parts but she refused to look at those. She focused on the steady drip of green. Drip, drip, drip. Slipping from a height that seem unnaturally tall compared to her 5'2 height.

"H-hello?" She choked out.

Nothing. Just the same heavy breathing from an invisible force. Willow squeezed her hand into a tight fist as she struggled to breathe before reaching out to touch the fluid. Willow's fingers trembled as they hovered just inches from the shimmering distortion. The heavy, animalistic breathing wasn't a growl anymore; it was a rhythmic, mechanical huff that vibrated in her very marrow. As her skin brushed the cold, slick neon fluid, the forest behind the "hole" vanished. The cloaking tech let out a dying, high-pitched whine, and the camouflage bled away like ink in water.

First came the feet—massive, three-toed talons that gripped the earth like ancient roots. Then the legs, wrapped in thick, segmented plating that looked as if it had been forged from the scales of a dragon. Willow's head tilted back, and back, and back, until her neck ached. She was staring at a torso as broad as a doorway, defined by corded, obsidian-colored muscle and draped in heavy, spinal-column trophies that rattled with every breath he took.

But it was the silhouette behind him that stole the air from her lungs. Sprouting from his back and shoulders were long, curved tendrils of bone, arching upward like the ribs of a giant or the blackened wings of a fallen god. They swayed slightly as he shifted his weight, casting jagged, crown-like shadows against the flickering amber of the dying campfire.

When her eyes finally reached his face, there was no metal to hide him.

His head was a fortress of hardened, ivory-colored crests that swept back into a high, majestic crown of jagged ridges. This wasn't a helmet; it was his literal anatomy, a skull built for war. Thick, dark dreadlocks—heavy as cables and bound in tarnished bronze rings—framed a face that was a masterclass in evolutionary terror.

Deep, smoldering crimson eyes, sunken beneath a heavy, bone-clad brow, fixated on her with the clinical intensity of a scientist and the cold weight of a King. Below those eyes, his mouth was a nightmare of ivory and obsidian. Four massive, primary mandibles hooked outward, twitching with a wet, clicking sound as they flared to reveal rows of needle-sharp teeth.

He stood nearly nine feet tall, a literal god of the hunt who looked as if he had been carved out of the very mountains he ruled. He didn't move. He didn't strike. He simply looked down at the tiny, blonde human who had the audacity to touch his blood, his mandibles clicking in a slow, rhythmic trill that felt like a question.

Her breath didn't just catch; it disappeared. She should scream, turn and run back for the woods. But Willow couldn't move, couldn't pull her gaze away from the predator standing over her.

Why wasn't she killed?