Mysterious Girl

1812

You don’t know what possessed you to take a walk out that night.

You were the eldest of 5 children, living with them and your parents in a cabin on the outskirts of town. The village was a decent size, small enough that news spread fast, but big enough to offer a glimmer of safety. The safety was a façade of course. Against a bear perhaps there would be adequate protection, but everyone knew there were far worse things out there.

And with Russia at war with Napoleon, safety in numbers was all that could be trusted.

Hence the unusually welcome reception for the Russian soldiers nearby. Even though you knew everyone had heard the rumours about them:

Disorderly drunkards that couldn’t shoot for shit.

Every night, they’d come into town for the bar. They’d be greeted by gritted smiles and given drink after drink, far more than they could stomach. Then they’d meander into the night yelling, and starting fights, and grabbing any woman in sight.

So…overall, not a great time for you to go for a casual night stroll, but you’d had enough of your family, your father’s constant pressuring for you to get married, your mother conditioning you to be more ‘womanly’, and your younger siblings just generally doing their best to wind you up. And it had worked.

Despite the dark and the townsfolk’s warnings, you couldn’t bear to be in the same building as them anymore and stormed out, hoping a walk in the woods would sort your mind out.

Now, you weren’t stupid. You avoided the centre of town, where you knew the drunken soldiers would be, and you brought a gun; the woods weren’t the safest place. You’d seen your father handle it enough to understand the basics. And back when you were younger, before the expectations of womanhood were thrust upon you. You remembered following him out, watching him face down a bear with the same gun.

“Shoot on sight” he had told you, “one less threat, plenty more meals”

You almost smiled at the memory. If only time hadn’t changed your relationship, life could be so much better.

But alas, time is inevitable and time changes everything. So here you were, on a familiar path through the woods, gun in hand, really regretting your life decisions. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being stalked.

You hadn’t brought a lantern, but the moon shone through the trees enough to give you a view, and you saw nothing.

You saw nothing. There was no sound. Walking through a forest of skeletal trees in the middle of the night, the moon only casting clawed shadows above you would give everyone that eerie feeling. But there was no sound. Not the scurrying of mice or screeches of birds. It was silent. Silent in a way nature should never naturally be.

In fact, you almost breathed a sigh of relief when you heard distant yelling and sing-song up ahead on the path. Almost. Because you didn’t forget what bellowed the sounds, nor did you forget the dangers of them too.

The volume increased, and you knew you could continue no further if you didn’t want to run into them. So you turned and began the walk back. Every muscle in your body was urging you to run, but you knew better. The path you had just walked down was straight, and if they saw you running, well… they were hunters first and foremost.

“Look!” you heard someone shout behind you, and your heart dropped. Whoops and cheers started up near the source of the voice. You refused to turn around, continuing your walk at the same pace, hoping they would leave you alone because there was no time to run home from here.

“Little girrrlyy” came the sing-song voice, setting your whole body on edge once again.

“Is she deaf?”

“Oh, I hope not. I want her to hear every grunt and moan as I take her” another said, and the laughs of the group echoed from every direction.

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t have to hear me, just feel it.”

“Either way, we need some fun”

You ran.

You knew they were running too, their feet pounding on the ground as they gained on you.

When they reached around 10m behind you, you turned, pointing the gun at the central man immediately. He whistled, “look who thinks they’re all big. What are you gonna do? Can you even shoot that?”

You nodded, too aware that your voice would shake if you tried to speak. The men leered, and you felt hands grab you from behind.

“Get. Off” you kicked, trying to loosen the man’s grip to no avail. His front was flush with your back and his hands grabbed your forearms, keeping you from firing the gun.

The smell of beer tainted his breath as he leant down to your ear, “I don’t think you do, sweetheart, you need a soldier like me to teach you?”

“Get away from me”

“I can teach you a lot of other things too. Promise you’ll have a good time. At least, I will”. The gun was knocked from your hands, as his moved down to your hips, rubbing against you from behind. You kept squirming, praying for someone to save you from this. But of course, who else would be stupid enough to walk alone at night?

His military buddies laughed in front of you, egging him on and shouting suggestions. But their faces all froze at the same time. It made you stop struggling, though it was clear the man behind you hadn’t noticed the change. Within a second, delirious laughter had become fear, their eyes wide and lips trembling. Some of them even fell backwards and scrambled away. Or at least attempted to.

A strong, sudden force ripped the man on your back away. You should have moved. Whatever it was had terrified the soldiers, and with the man gone you were exposed, next in line. You should have run, dodged it, and gone home. Maybe picked up the gun and shot whatever it was. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Your body refused to cooperate and you stood trembling with eyes on the ground, waiting for that deadly blow to come. But it didn’t.

Screams drew your eyes off of the ground. A blur tore through the pack of soldiers. Already, three mutilated corpses lay on the ground, heads almost torn off, while the others attempted to fight the creature. You had to look away to control the nauseous feeling, eyes settling instead on the gun you’d dropped.

Whatever the creature was had seemingly forgotten you on its rampage, and you didn’t want to change that, but you also wanted protection. As imperceptibly as possible, you crouched, trembling hand reaching out to pull the weapon closer to you.

The fight was over when you looked back up, weapon in hand. A red-haired woman stood atop the battlefield of corpses. This time you did gag, you couldn’t control it. Blood highlighted her lips and the entire lower half of her face. Her hands were coated as well, clawed nails soaked in blood. Looking down at the bodies you could tell she had used them, shred marks along most of the remains. She said nothing, only stared at you with red eyes, waiting for a move you assumed. For the thrill of the chase. Maybe you weren’t as saved as it had seemed.

Raising the gun to point at her, she merely tilted her head in response. “Wh-who are you?” you trembled, “what are you?”

“I’m not going to hurt you” she spoke calmly, head still dipped as she watched you,

“You hurt them. A lot.”

“You’re not them.” In an instant, she took several blurred steps towards you and you panicked. You shot.

Before it had even stopped echoing through the trees, you were running. She was faster than you, impossibly fast, but a bullet to the stomach would slow anyone down.

Against all survival instincts, you turned before the next corner, needing to see her again. She was in the same spot, still watching you, but not chasing. Her face showed no signs of pain, and her hands hung limply at her sides, she acted uninjured, yet the bloodied hole in her chest showed a different story.

You had many questions, but you’d learnt it was best not to look for answers. So you turned and kept running, never looking back again.