My heart ached as the unsightly beast that stood before me got closer and closer.

Blood dripped down its fanged muzzle, piercing towards me.

"Don't touch me!" I screamed, swinging my arms in front of me as the creature roughly grabbed my face, its claws pricking at my cheeks. The fetid stench of blood tainted the air in my way as my tears gathered ready to spill.

Barely managing to free myself from its grip, I stumbled on the forest floor, the leaves sticking to the ends of my hair, and the withered vines clung onto my legs.

To my utter horror, I could hear the beast's bones cracking as if they were about to break, its breathing heavy. And right before my eyes, its claws reverted and its fangs shrunk. The black fur slowly faded revealing an unshorn skin surface. The beast, a towering man, with dark hair reaching his shoulders, fixated his gaze upon me, cold as ice. A thick, full beard covered his jaw, which was smeared in gore.

"Feisty one, aren't you?" he chuckled, his cold dark eyes stuck upon me.

Whenever I watched fantasy movies with supernatural beings, I always thought that the protagonists were exaggerating when they discovered the existence of werewolves, vampires, witches and whatnot. But I was wrong.

There I was, on the ground, my knees scraped, bleeding from the fall, eyes tearing up as terror slipped beneath my skin.

I couldn't breathe, I could barely make out the sounds around me, and my heart beat faster than ever before. It was so fast and so loud, that I could feel it in my temples, and pulsing in my ears.

A paralyzing tremble took control of my flesh and bones, leaving me petrified and speechless.

"You are scaring her," Rexsus spoke, and he firmly grabbed a hold of the man's left shoulder.

"Mind your own business, brother," the other said, shrugging the younger man's hand off. "You should know your place. You did your part, now..." he added, turning around to look back at me. "...Move!"

Before I knew it, his face got closer to me, so close that I could feel his heavy breath against my neck. Chills were still running down my back, and my hands were still trembling out of control.

We are often told that when you are afraid, you often find yourself having two options to choose from. On one hand, you may forget everything and run, and on the other, you must face everything and rise.

What was I to do? Could I even do anything at this point?

In spite of my terrified disposition, it took a few seconds of uncomfortable proximity and inquisitive glances for him to stop. That is when he suddenly pulled himself backwards, his forehead revealing some fine lines as his eyebrows joined together. He turned away from my direction, retching as he muffled his mouth.

"Someone gets Stinky over here a change of clothes or..." he bluntly ordered, gagging as he inched away even further rubbing his nose. "...or cleanse her as you see fit."

There are moments when time and space warp around oneself, your surroundings blend into each other, smudged hues bleeding before your eyes. You may find that you suddenly feel bugs crawling on your skin. You feel as if you are losing yourself, as if the world is unreal, yet somehow it manages to swallow you whole. You are looking at yourself from outside your mortal cage, and you don't recognize yourself. You are not there.

I was not there.

"You must be in pain..." I managed to discern.

My limbs were numb and they felt heavier than they should have. If I were asked at that moment, I couldn't tell how much time passed. A few moments? Days? Hours?

I blinked disoriented.

"Give me your hand," she said, and I reached my hand almost unconsciously.

A thatched roof towered above us, propped by sturdy wooden pillars. The walls were creeping close around me, suffocating all of my being. The pelted floor stuck to my feet and I felt as if I were to sink into it.

Gentle fingers brushed against my hands, her eyes studying the scrapes and bruises on them quietly.

"It's your blood," mentioned Annia.

I looked at her confused.

"He told us to wash you. But it's your blood that he sensed."

Pale light stripes slipped through the slightly parted schmattes that served as the sole shelter of that lodging's threshold.

Bleak is what would best describe my surroundings. They were hazy and distorted.

When did daylight reach us?

"How is she?" a voice reached my ears, and its owner soon made me aware of his presence.

The schmattes parted and the light fell over his broad shoulders which overshadowed high in stature. As he walked in, he rolled up the sleeves of his top garment in a messily manner. After scattering glances around the room for a few moments, he grabbed a wooden bowl and poured water into it.

"Still fazed, I'd say," answered Annia. "I could be wrong," she added. "But I believe passing through the portal and the barriers must have made more of an impact on her than we planned."

"And what did he say?" asked Rexsus.

"Crassus?" she inquired, briefly looking up his way.

The man nodded as he damped a rag in the little water that was in the bowl.

"The usual. You know how he is." She rolled her eyes, and turned back at me for a moment. 

"We shouldn't have chased her like that," he argued, clenching his jaw. "And he shouldn't have done what he did after."

"Me and you both know you don't have a say in this, Rex," retorted Annia. "You agreed to this the moment your blood sealed the oath. There is no going back, even if you are having second thoughts about this," she paused sighing, "about her...There is truly no going back, even if you regret it."

He frowned at her remark and stole one glance my way, but upon my notice, he quickly parted his sight from mine, as if bashful.

After a few moments of having my injuries inspected, I found myself alone with the man. Rough, quiet and unsightly.

He kneeled in front of me, without uttering a single word. Making it obvious that he was feeling hesitant with whatever he wanted to attempt, and with the wet rag in one hand, he reached the other in my direction, and gently got a hold of my feet, placing them both onto his lap. From time to time, he briefly looked up at me, but soon buried his sight elsewhere.

His hands were warm against my skin, in contrast with the cold that brushed with them. I felt shivers down my spine and I heard that voice echoing in my mind.

"The dead must stay dead."

I struggled to grasp for air, and suddenly I couldn't see in front of me.

"Don't touch me..." I managed to mumble, as I pulled from his firm grasp.

Excruciating pain numbed at my core, and ringing deafened my hearing. I could taste the muddy water on my tongue, and it was as if I was at the bottom of the lake once again.

When your body has had to deal with too much, it shuts down and goes its own way within, maybe waiting for a more desirable moment, leaving you partly numb, barely alive.

When I came back to my senses, Rexsus was holding me in his arms, patting my back gently. His embrace smelled like musk and sun-dried soil on a warm autumn evening.

"You are one as well, aren't you?" I questioned, afraid to truly come to terms with his answer.

His mismatched eyes observed me closely, blue and red, with dark spruce circles descending underneath them. He didn't answer me.

"Ok, we can just sit here and we can ignore each other," I muttered more so to myself than to him, "because that works just fine."

I didn't know what to make of it. All that I sensed felt raw, but not quite real. Cruel, that was my first impression of him and his people.

Nietzsche said that man is the cruelest animal. Then what does that make of beasts?

Not quite men, not quite brutes. Somewhere in between.

Annia soon returned, and I was going to soon be put face to face with more than just answers to my questions.

"Her gut must be hurting," he immediately told her, and her eyes quickly trailed back at me.

"Tell me where it hurts," she suggested.

"My chest..." I told her, "...it burns."

"The lack of feeling and the pain should subside after a few days," explained Annia. "You may also continue to feel nauseous. But that is also supposed to gradually fade. I would suggest-"

"Why did you bring me here?" I interrupted with disdain.

A few children no older than seven, rushed running inside chasing one another.

Annia looked at me and back at the children.

"The only thing that could save us is a vessel," she revealed.

She waved her hands in the air in a synchronized manner, whispering undistinguishably, and before my eyes, from the thinness of the air, a small burning butterfly appeared. It flapped its wings playfully, humoring the young children that followed it out the entrance.

Once alone, silence remained the sole ruler of the shabby abode, the shimming light transpired through the sheer barrier that parted the menacing outside from the meek inside.

"Our lives are in your hands."