By the time it got dark out, Devon and I had spent nearly five hours amusing ourselves, exploring the property, animal-watching, kicking around a soccer ball with the other dozen small kids, and sneaking food from the garage of the house. Then, after dinner, it had been back to the animal pens for another awestruck session. Devon was intensely fascinated by the goat for some reason, which had wisely kept its distance; an incident with a horse had ended with my brother clutching several strands of hair from its mane and crying as the horse in question fled.

Now we were sitting with everyone else around the blazing campfire, listening to the music and waiting for fireworks to start, though I sensed—as the sounds of drunken whooping carried above the noise from the band—that we would have to wait a little longer. I pulled Devon out of the way as several men and a few woman holding hunting rifles stomped by, having emerged from the woods behind us. A sudden chill ran up my spine and I shook it off, holding my brother close.

"We got it!" shouted a young woman with her hair tied back, her face flushed. "Paul, get your ass over here, we got your coyote!"

Sure enough, as Paul put his guitar in a stand and rushed over to the group from where he was singing on the stage, I saw a furry mass dumped unceremoniously on the ground. I covered Devon's curious eyes and tried to look like I wasn't eavesdropping, though at the volume they were shouting, it would've been hard not to listen.

"Well, shit," he said, looking stunned, the crescent moon's light flashing off his glasses as it came out from behind a cloud, "looks a bit mangy considerin' it ate two of my best pigs. You sure this is the one?"

"Pretty damn sure," answered a man in the group. "It was eatin' from a hog carcass when I shot its rat face off."

I shuddered. The group roared with laughter and I heard a sniffle come from Devon. I looked down at him and saw his eyes watering with tears, fixed on the group. He was a sensitive soul and really liked animals. While he might not have fully understood what a coyote was, he did understand that it had been killed. "Ah, Jesus," I muttered, wiping away a few of his tears. It was almost time to go, come on, boy, not now. "C'mon, Dev, we can go look at the horses again."

He shook his head and started to bawl. I picked him up, trying to shush him before my mother caught notice, but Devon was having none of that; he squirmed, kicking at my stomach. One of the blows connected hard, knocking my breath away, and I dropped my brother, gasping. He immediately took off as fast as his stubby legs could carry him in the direction of the trees, still crying.

"Hey! Devon, get back here!" I ran after him, one hand holding my stomach where a bruise was surely blossoming. "Hey!" Even though the coyote was dead, there was still the possibility of another wild animal finding my brother before I did. Besides, Paul had had a good point; that mangy coyote the hunters had brought in hadn't looked strong enough to even kill a rabbit with a limp. Whatever had attacked the Murrays' animals was still out there.

As I chased Devon into the forest, a boy who had been mocking me earlier for staying clear of the woods, a county brat named Gavin, shot me a condescendingly smug smile. I flipped him off. He was a twelve-year-old snot and right off the bat had made a backhanded comment about my brother's dark skin versus my own pale flesh. Devon was the spitting image of his daddy, and since we didn't share a father, sometimes people asked questions, most of the time loud enough for me to hear. People could be incredibly hurtful even when they didn't mean to be, though Devon didn't understand at his age. I had itched to push Gavin over, but knew I'd get a tongue-lashing from his mother or mine, and restrained myself. Even so, his expression taunted me in the light of the moon as I ran from the group and the comforting glow of the fire.

The dark green filter of the trees was calming and I was glad to leave the adults to their drunken celebration, but meanwhile my brother was probably getting himself lost. Even so, I was happy to be alone for once. In the dark forest, out of sight of my mother, I could be me; it felt exhilarating. My necklace bounced at my throat as I tore across the ground, scanning every direction for his tiny shape.

"Livy!" Devon's voice suddenly cried out, nowhere and everywhere, scraping against the tree bark. Where could he have vanished to so quickly?

I answered his call with one of my own, but heard nothing in return. Frogs chirped all around me and branches clawed at my clothes and hair from all sides, tearing, touching. As the sky darkened overhead, the forest didn't seem to be ethereally beautiful and calm any longer. Instead, whispers of peril and hunger drifted around me, whipping against my body, turning me round and round like the steps in some sort of wild dance.

An inhuman scream swept over me, coming from far away. It filled every ditch, every hole in the ground, with its raw pain and terror, sending chills burrowing into my bones. I instinctively clutched my cross to my heart.

"Devon!" I was screaming now, my cries echoing into a now ringing and unwelcome silence. I spun, searching for my brother. "Devon!"

Gunshots rang in the following silence. Dogs' howls and snarls floated through the trees. The wind picked up, blowing my hair into my face. Where was he?

Shapeless monsters moved between the trees, waiting for me to lose my nerve and bolt so that they could pursue me. Eyes watched from the shadows; pale eyes, eyes that glowed, eyes that burned, the eyes of a person and yet not a person: the eyes of a primal monster.

"Shtriga..." the forest murmured. "Hunger..."

My breath came fast and shallow, and fear flickered in my stomach; I didn't know which way to go. This had been a stupid idea. I should've held onto Devon tighter. I should've told my mother he'd bolted. She should've been watching him like a proper parent and not left the task to her teenage daughter. I turned in all directions, searching and searching, my panic rising, my heart pounding.

My fears crept closer. I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl into a ball. I needed to stay strong. I needed to find my brother.

Devon's little voice floated around me, shaking and terrified. "Livy... I can see monsters..."

"It's okay, Dev," I whispered as if he could hear me. I was shuddering, rooted to the spot, wildly searching for a way to go that was familiar. "They ain't real."

But Devon didn't see my imaginary monsters, dancing among the trees.

He saw the monsters I didn't see.

Something sharp and wet scratched the back of my neck.

I turned to find a pair of pale, colourless eyes staring into my soul.

They were made of evil.

And they were hungry.

That was when I ran.

Blindly.

Without any consideration for where I was going.

My breath ragged.

My chest tight.

My heart thumping painfully against my ribcage.

For a long time I ran, crashing through the undergrowth, faltering and losing my footing only to scramble back up and take off again. I stumbled from the trees, nearly somersaulting in my haste to get back to my family, frightened sobs catching in my throat, when I stopped as if I had hit a wall, a wall composed of a sour stench that laid thickly on my tongue.

I had found the farm.

But something had found it first.

I walked as if in a daze, around the bodies that were torn limb from limb, past the blood-splattered drum set and the discarded coyote corpse that was strung from a tree, past the patches of grass that looked dead, soaked with the blood of the party-goers. The rescue dogs were whimpering quietly, their terrified whining scarcely louder than my footsteps, and the campfire smoked despite being extinguished.

The first recognizable body I came across was Chana, Paul's wife, though I couldn't say that she was pretty-looking anymore; her face was disfigured by deep, jagged gouges, her eyes reflecting the moon. Her summer dress was soaked with blood and her chest cavity had been torn open, muscles and organs gleaming, things that never should have been exposed to the outside air visible to me now.

I found my step-father next, a dented can of beer discarded a few feet from his bloodied body. Hooked claws and teeth had ripped into his flesh, pulling and tearing until all that was left was a mess of pulpy skin and blood and bone. The worst part was that his eyes were gone, the sockets red and empty.

I slowly bent, my hands shaking, and picked up the can of beer; it was mostly empty, and it smelled awful, like soggy cereal, but I drained the last two mouthfuls anyway.

I don't know why I did it, I don't know what I expected. It tasted awful. I crunched the can underfoot, staring at the body in front of me.

I felt a pang in my chest. He hadn't been bad to me, not really, but I had never returned his feeble attempt at love. And now he was dead.

My mother was a different story. She was lying on her side a yard away, choking on blood, her arms crossed over her stomach to keep her intestines from sliding into the grass. Her mouth shaped the 'O' of my name, or maybe it was just "Oh", as in, "Oh, you're alive, are you?"

I never found out. She died in front of me, her last action a desperate reach for her damned cross necklace which had fallen several feet away and was glinting innocently in the moonlight.

Had I ever told her I loved her? I would never get to again.

I was stumbling towards the truck, still searching for my brother when I accidentally kicked something in the shadows beneath the tree, tripped, and fell to my knees, where I stayed for several long seconds. I kept my head down, breathing loudly, the sour taste still thick in my mouth, and looked behind me. It was a girl, a lot younger than me, maybe five. Her eyes were shut, her pale, pinched face set in a frown, her breath barely distinguishable.

She wasn't the only one.

Under the tree, some propped against the trunk, others lying motionless in the grass, were all the children, unresponsive but still apparently alive, all drained of colour, all embodiments of death.

Devon was among them, his black skin dull and almost grey-tinged. His eyes were mostly closed, but I could see some white under the lid. How had he gotten back here? My body was shaking.

"D—Devon?"

Something ran across the clearing, darkness billowing out behind it. Something with pale eyes and straggling hair, human in shape, but there was no way that this creature, in its shadowy rags, spidery talons gleaming in the moonlight, stained with something dark and dripping, could possibly be human.

It stood there silently, staring at me, and then the moon went behind a cloud and it lunged forward, its hands reaching for my throat. I fell back, its foul breath pouring into my face, and let out a shriek as nails scrabbled at my neck, a terrifying rattling sound coming from the gaping maw in front of my face, the pale eyes emotionless and cold as it pinned me down.

It was doing something to me.

Something deep in my chest was being pulled up.

Something that I couldn't live without.

So I fought, tugging on the withered hands as the warmth was drawn up, growing weaker and weaker.

Suddenly, the creature hissed as my necklace scraped against its grasp and recoiled, pushing me away from it. The warmth went back down into my chest where it belonged, and quickly faded against the frantic thumping of my heart.

I kicked the thing further away from me and brandished my necklace as best I could. It wailed this time, a shrill moan full of gluttonous and insatiable hunger.

I slung Devon over my shoulder like a sack, keeping my eyes on the thing, and backed towards the cars. Then I turned, sprinting towards my step-father's Chevy. I didn't remember him locking the car. I didn't remember it, but that didn't mean that it was open.

Thank God it was unlocked.

I slid into the back of the car, pushing Devon over to his car seat, and slammed the door behind me before scrambling to hit the lock button on the door of the driver's side. The lock clicked, making me jump a foot in the air, my heart constricting painfully. I didn't know what to do, didn't know what that thing was, or anything about it except that it didn't like my necklace; my little cross on a chain was the only thing keeping that monster from making me like the other kids. I grabbed Devon and searched for his, forgetting, forgetting that I had taken it off him to prove a stupid point to my stupid mother.

I stopped with that realization, tears welling in my eyes. "Oh, God," I whispered, grabbing Devon's necklace and putting it back around his neck. He didn't respond. "Devon, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

I hiccoughed, tasting the beer again, and rummaged in the center console of the car. All I could hear was the pounding of blood in my ears, and my heavy breathing, which I tried to calm as I found what I was looking for: my mother's cellphone. She had hated it, had hated the fact that people were dependant on technology, but I was thankful beyond words.

I dialed the emergency number, having to put it in more than once due to the shaking in my hands and waited, the call ringing and ringing. I had just about dissolved into tears again when the line clicked through.

"Nine-one-one, what is your emergency? Fire, police, or ambulance?"

"Please, help me! They're dead, all of them! A monster—"

"Slow down, Miss, it's alright. What's your name? What happened?"

"Liv." I was crying now, sobbing and gasping for air, the impact of everything hitting me at that moment. "A monster from the forest hurt my brother, killed the adults. It's coming for me, please help me! I—"

"It's okay, monsters aren't real. I need to know where you are, Miss, can you please tell me where you are right now?"

I was trembling, the hair rising all over my body. "The farm. I'm on the Murray's farm. Please, I need help, I need—"

My voice choked in my throat as a sinister shape blurred before my eyes. There was the forest monster, crouched on the hood of the truck, pale eyes blazing, bloodstained lips curled in a sneer. Its talons clawed the windshield with an ear-splitting screech, deep scores appearing before my wide eyes.

The phone slipped from my numb fingers as the thing dug deeper and I clutched my cross to my chest. "Oh, God..."

But no matter how hard I prayed... God wouldn't be able to save me this time.