The Path
Morning light crept in through the canopy and Karen woke, stretched, and nearly knocked the pistol from her lap. Looking down at it she wondered, Had last night all been a dream? Did I truly speak to The Beast?, but her questions were answered as soon as she turned to more closely examine her surroundings. There, not two inches from where she'd rested her head for the evening, were four long gashes in the great oak's bark. They were wide and deep, as though the claws that made them had lingered in the making. Karen's breath hitched in her chest, and she wasted no time in gathering her few things and leaving the clearing as soon as she was able.
Though it slowed her progress some, Karen kept the pistol out and pointed slightly in front of her as she made her way deeper into the forest. At first she'd followed what she thought were signs of The Beast, but after that failed - snapped branches tracked for an hour led to a very startled deer who nearly bowled Karen over - she simply began heading in the direction she liked best. She thought, idly, after very nearly shooting the startled deer that she did not know how long the pistol's shot would last. There would be a need to unload it soon, she suspected, lest the powder corrode the chamber. Everytime her father had taken the pistol out, she knew that he'd taken his time to empty and clean it before returning it to its' case and oh, the thought of her father, her parents (no we mustn't, too much taken from them already think of the forest and your feet ahead there was) a branch that she ducked to avoid and focusing back on the forest she noticed...a path? The beginnings of one, perhaps, or the end. Before she'd put a foot on the path, however, she hesitated. Did she want to come across another human in the woods, even if she was armed? Anyone else this deep into the woods was either a) looking to slay The Beast (no not until I get to him) or b) running from danger greater than The Beast, whereupon trouble would most certainly follow (no, best to skirt the path a little ways off, so that I may see who is upon it before I decide if I will tread it). And off she went, putting bush and brush between the path so that she glimpsed it only in handfulls of space, continuing that way for quite some time.
Later, after one stop to rest and snatch a few mouthfuls of food (need to save food but I should have enough for a few more days, then berries and roots I suppose?), she thought she saw something. A shadow of something, maybe. There and gone too quick to see, really, and it was probably her imagination. Maybe. Unsettled she took the next while more slowly, trying to minimize her noise in traveling through the forest. She managed somewhat until a stubborn blackberry wrapped itself up in her skirt and she had to spend 10 minutes picking at it to loose the vine's hold. It took every bit of her energy to not fill the air with a string of curses that would peel bark from the nearest tree, but she knew her thrashing would have attracted attention if there was any to attract. A few moments passed while she waited in silence, then let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. A shadow of nothing, then.
As she continued on the path grew wider and more defined, deer trail turning into packed dirt lined with stones. It looked so out of place two days walk into the woods that she dared not take it, safe or no. Things that looked out of place in the forest often spoke of magic, and that was not a risk she needed to take. Not yet, at any rate. It was another half hour's careful creeping that brought her up to what seemed to be a fine cottage in a state of disrepair, ivy creeping up one side of the house and strangling the windows, front door half rotted off its hinges. There was a warm glow coming from the front room, though (a fireplace, or candles? something comforting) and that indicated someone was in residence - living out rough in a half-ruined home, surrounded by wild animals and most importantly by The Beast. A hunter or a fugitive, whoever was responsible for the light would be no help to her and so Karen turned from the cottage and path to head into wilder woods.
Seconds later she felt, rather than heard, something in front of her. She could faintly make out a massive shape (the same as before, surely?) and where light struggled through the foliage some glint caught the eyes of the creature in front of her (no, not red but a luminous yellow-green). The light caught the metal of the pistol, too, and she raised it for a long second, two, three...before dropping it, and in one swift motion making a dash for the path. It was time to risk running afoul of magic or the house's occupant, and as she felt the woods clutching at her clothes and hair she heard the noise of pursuit behind her.
She burst out onto the path with a desperate increase in speed, nearly overshooting her mark before whipping back around to make a dash for the cottage and the saftey she hoped she'd find within (that door wouldn't hold a rabbit out, let alone The Beast, you'll never make it) but she pushed that voice down and practically dove the last few feet. Wrenching the door open only to slam it closed behind her, the wide gap between door and jamb allowed a narrow view of the most peculiar thing. The Beast (dear god let there be nothing else in the woods like Him, built with features so human in such a wretchedly powerful animal form) pulled up short as he approached the cottage, as though he could not approach it fully. He snarled and paced, lunging a few times at this unseen barrier he could not pass, before turning back and heading into the woods again. Within moments he had disappeared from Karen's view.
That was it, then. The Beast, and her cowardice, had chosen for her. Squaring up her shoulders in a display of courage she did not feel, she turned from the door and began to walk further into the cottage.
"Hello? Is someone here?"