Brady was rattled awake. He gasped, sitting up quickly upon opening his eyes and found that his whole body was shaking like a leaf. This didn't surprise him, though. Practically every night for him was filled with recuring restless nightmares and waking up as a trembling and sweating nervous wreck. He lifted one shaky hand to his head to try and ease his heavy migraine.
A chilly breeze abruptly blew passed him, which was only the first indicator that he was not in his bedroom, which is where he should be. The wind felt cold on his skin where multiple tattered holes had been ripped in his clothes. Small cuts into his flesh revealed his own blood that was dripping out slowly. His whole body ached, and he could not move for a few moments. Almost paralyzed. That only agitated him even more.
Once the pain had simmered down, he focused his gaze to begin surveying his surroundings. There were innumerable trees towering over him, and he had been laying down in the dirt with the back of his head leaning against the base of one of the trees. It was nighttime. That much was clear due to the glowing blue moon floating in the sky above and the pitch-black darkness that continued throughout the ground level.
What time was it? He didn't know. All he knows is he shouldn't be here.
"Argh! The fuck…what happened to me?"
Before he could presume any plausible answer, somewhere very nearby, he heard a twig snap in half. It wasn't done naturally. His superb hearing could pick up on that easily. A creature must have stepped on it, but it sounded too big to be one of the smaller woodland critters. And it was coming towards him.
Without a second of hesitation, Brady stood up and kept his ears strained to listen out for whatever might cross his path as he tried to make his way out of this goddamn forest. He moved carefully, trying not to make a sound and getting increasingly suspicious of the mysterious unknown entity that he started to hear was approaching him. It was stepping on fallen dead leaves and pushing aside tree branches, and each noise was closer than the last.
Wondering if he was being following, he looked back many times to make sure he wasn't accidentally leaving behind his traces or footsteps. While moving forward, he also pondered as to how he could've ended up passed out in the middle of the forest. He searched through every crevasse of his memory but came up with nothing. The last thing he remembered was walking through the city streets at dusk, but he couldn't remember where he was heading for some reason. It wasn't exactly helpful to his current predicament, and that only made him more aggravated.
Suddenly, a low growl sounded from within the brush on his right side. It was unlike any creature he'd heard before. And he's encountered way too many different kinds of creatures in his lifetime, most of which were, of course, supernatural. He eventually deduced the beast following him must be of the supernatural, and so his survival instincts instantly turned on.
Looks like why he found himself here would have to wait.
He began to move quicker. Whether he would end up the prey or the predator tonight is not important, though. His top priority for the moment is to make it back to the clan as safely as possible, and hopefully the creature that's tailing him won't strike at him before he finds daylight. He knows he's already beaten up and tired, and his body feels like lead.
After thirty minutes, which felt much longer, cautiously walking through the dark thicket, he saw something flashing in the distance straight ahead of him. A bright yellow light was blinking at the edge of the forest.
"Finally!" he muttered to himself, thinking that civilization must be close.
But saying even that one soft word may have been a mistake. For not even one moment later, the beast that had been stalking him charged, jumped out from behind the trees to his left, and tackled the boy before he could have time to react. The beast had large, razor-sharp claws, and they dug into the flesh of Brady's shoulders as soon as his back hit the ground. More blood began to gush out of his wounds as he struggled to break free of the beast's grip. He grabbed onto its forearms to try and pull out its claws, but it was extremely painful.
The beast saw Brady as fresh meat, which explained why disgusting and smelly drool was forming in its mouth, falling from its lips and onto Brady's cheeks. It leaned its face in closer to Brady's, and he could now clearly see into the beast's two unblinking, shiny black eyes, and they seemed to be staring straight into his soul. Then the beast slowly opened its mouth so wide, revealing four rows of long, jagged and slimy fangs, ready to take a huge bite.
Suddenly, in a burst of adrenaline, Brady kicked the beast in the abdomen with enough force to send it flying in the air. It tumbled backwards once and then landed on its feet, only to bend over in pain, realizing there was a sharp agony where Brady had kicked it. Dark red blood poured from a large opening in the beast's gut.
That's when Brady managed to stand back up, just after he had morphed his legs back to normal. He had shifted their shape into pointy tips like twin dual-edged swords, and he had dug their sharp ends deep into the beast's only weak spot that was exposed to him. Brady glared at the beast with murderous intent in his eyes, thinking it had gotten exactly what it deserved for trying to eat him.
Just then, the beast leaned its head and shoulders back and let out a piercing, shrieking roar, indicating that it wasn't going down so easily. Not without a fight.
Brady wished he didn't have to kill to survive, but fate had tempted him yet again. The world was never fair to him to begin with. Life was never kind to him, either. So the only way to live was to be crueler and more deceitful.
As of now, his whole body felt tired and achy, and his shoulders were now gashed and bleeding, adding to the weight that was taking its toll on him. But he had to act fast.
He positioned himself just right as the beast leaped at him. Dodging to the left and again when a long arm with claws at the tips of its fingers took a swipe at his face and torso, Brady then took a step back. Simultaneously, he stretched one arm back and transformed the length of his forearm into a long pale blade.
Once he had distanced himself with a wide enough gap, he took a quick and deep inhale, filling his lungs with the forest's oxygen to fuel his body with the adrenaline he needed to attack. Next, he darted towards the beast, zigzagging slightly along his path to invoke some confusion, and as soon as he was close enough, he slashed his blade in various directions. It was hard to pinpoint where he would strike next because he was moving so fast, but each attempt only scratched the beast since it moved unbelievably quick too, leaving behind small slits in its disfigured and clumped up skin.
Brady could barely see. The dark of night had enveloped everything around him and the treetops were blocking out any bit of moonlight that shone above the foliage. To add insult to injury, there was the spurts of blood flying through the air from each attack landed on either himself or the beast, and those bloods kept getting in his eyes, blinding him for brief moments at a time. Therefore, he had to rely on his other senses, which were keen as he had been training them over a course of years.
With every touch, he dodged. With every smell, he leaped inward. Every sound he got was a sign to respond, though there were a mesh from mixing together with other sounds in the forest around them. But for every action, there was always a reaction, which resulted in the beast counteracting Brady's attacks with one of its own. It jumped, kicked, thrusted, and swiped its long limbs and its claws at the boy again and again. He thought he might have to grow a second blade just to keep up the pace.
But in a sheer stroke of luck, their weapons soon collided, and the beast shrieked a cry of agony when its hand fell and landed on the ground ten feet behind it. Dark blood spurted from its skinny stump. It wasn't even red. Instead, it was a blackish green color that sprayed along the forest floor.
Now was his chance. While the beast was distracted by the pain, Brady stepped back a few feet, and then charged at it with mighty force, thrusting the tip of his blade into the center of its chest where its heart was. As it let out a small yelp, all that followed was silence.
Everything was still for a good several moments. Brady kept his blade pierced into the beast, awaiting any response and staying on high alert.
After this passed, the beast's head and upper body exploded without warning, and the many bits and pieces of its wrinkled and lumpy reddish brown skin and disgusting entrails flew into the air before scattering on the ground. Though its legs were still intact and still standing, it was an utter mess. Some of the blood and guts had landed on Brady, too, and the smell was unearthly rotten. He took one whiff and it was enough to make his eyes widen then shut them as soon as they watered up and for him to pinch his nose upon gagging on air.
He soon shapeshifted his arm back to normal, his serious demeanor and the death glare on his face had turned to that of nauseating disgust and trying to hold back the bile coming up his esophagus. All he wanted to do now was go home, patch up his wounds, take a shower, and go to bed.
But as soon as he turned away and was out of sight, the fingers on the beast's severed hand twitched, slightly but noticeable.
Brady stumbled while jogging back towards the light shining into the thicket. Then, just as he had reached the borderline of where the forest met the outskirts of a small neighborhood, he almost collapsed. He caught himself, though. He knew he couldn't stop now.
Then he heard the rustling of bushes behind him. He ignored it at first, until he mustered up the nerve to look back, and out from the foliage leaped the beast's severed hand. With no time to react, the hand first landed on Brady's face, blinding him, and then it attached itself to the top of his head and started digging its claws into his scalp. His own blood got in his eyes as he struggled to pull the severed hand off him, but even with no body or brain to command it, the hand fought back.
This thing is dangerous. There's no way he could leave it still moving. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't obtain victory against this severed hand. It was as if it was trying to rip his head off. He stumbled backwards into the nearby road and almost went underneath the light of a streetlamp where he would be exposed to the whole neighborhood.
But then something grabbed onto the severed hand by the stump that was once its wrist, and with hardly any effort yanked it off the boy's head. Still grimacing from the pain, with blood pouring down his face and feeling like his brain was pounding against the inside his skull, Brady was more confused and surprised than thankful.
"Looks like we got to you just in time," a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
Brady turned around to see a fellow clan member, Gregory. Tagging along with him were Trevon, Frank, and Hyde.
Gregory then dropped the trembling and wriggling severed hand from his grip and squashed it beneath his foot with one heavy stomp. Dark greenish blood splattered onto the pavement. This made Brady feel his own strength was inferior, considering how effortlessly Gregory had destroyed the severed hand.
Brady was hesitant to show gratitude, "So, uh…thanks. I guess"
"No worries. I'm just glad we finally found you," and what Gregory said next made Brady flinch with shock, "You know you've been gone for two whole weeks. That's not like you."
He was baffled beyond belief. Brady knew he had spent about six days away from the clan. How much time got away from him? What has he forgotten? He raised one hand to his head and rummaged his fingers through his hair, trying again to recall what happened to him in that time gap, only to come up empty-handed, much to his irritability.
"Phew! Man, you sure do stink, though!" Frank exclaimed while fanning the stench emitting from Brady's clothes and skin away from his face, "What is that smell?! Did you come across a corpse in a dumpster?"
"…Something like that," Brady nodded.
"How'd it get all over you, then?! I hope you didn't go stabbing it out of blind rage to blow off some steam!"
Brady gave him a death glare. He knew Frank was just teasing, of course, but he still felt insulted.
"What exactly are you doing out here, anyhow?" Hyde scowled with a sharp tone of his own.
"Beats me."
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?!"
"It means I don't know, you fucking moron!" Brady shouted about ready to give Hyde the middle finger and tell him to screw off.
"Little retarded bastard!"
"Fucking prick!"
"Crazy, hyper-aggressive turd!"
"Hey, hey, hey! Easy now, fellas!" Gregory stepped in between them to get them to stop the harsh name-calling, "Now's not the time for any of your needless bickering. We have to go. They say there's going to be a police patrol of these parts around this hour. Can't be outside unless we want to get a beating from the boss. Which reminds me," he quickly turned back to Brady, "You'll be explaining to you know who about your latest little escapade and why we had to come find you, young man."
'Great…just fucking great!' Brady thought.