The Chase

A warning tale

"Go on then. Run. Run away like you always do. Run like a lost little lamb, unwittingly sprinting towards your doom at breakneck speed." The creature taunted me. Its fingers, tips ending in razor-sharp claws, were tracing down my face, my neck. The touch was tender, like a lover's caress. And that made the bile rise in my throat more than anything else.
Once it reached my pulse point, it stopped its wandering hands. My heart was pounding in my chest, my pulse fluttering so hard I could feel my skin tearing where its claws rested. "Come on. Give me a reason to hunt you down", it growled, lips pulled back in a snarl to expose long, pointed teeth.
I somehow managed to swallow down a fearful scream, but that was about as much movement as I could manage. A cold sweat broke out all over my body, made infinitely worse by the cold, buffeting winds. Don't ask me how long I stood there, frozen in place, as it sniffed me, growled at me, howled in anger and frustration. As it threatened to rip me limb from limb, to tear out my insides and feast on them while I was still alive and conscious. I couldn't tell you. It could have been hours or days. Fear is funny like that sometimes. Doesn't help that the sky in the Winter Court is stuck in neigh-perpetual dusk. There were many times I wanted to beg the creature to do it already, to end it, to put me out of my misery.
I believe my cowardice is the only reason I survived. I wanted to run like I've never wanted anything else in my life. And yet my fear rooted me in place, paralysed me to the point I all but fainted from lack of breath. I would have run if I could have, there's no doubt in my mind about that - as there is no doubt it would have been the death of me if I had run. Ironic as it may be, I suppose sometimes not running away is the only way to escape your fate.
Don't go into those woods, you hear me? Better yet, don't ever go into the Feywilds, don't even think about it.

— A retired adventurer

Historical Basis

Many a shredded, eaten carcass has been found in the forest of the Winter Court, mutilated by claw and teeth marks matching no other known beast. Some people have encountered the creature only known as "the Hunger". Few have survived. There is one thing the survivors agree on. If it ever finds you, whatever you decide to do, do not run from it. For if you do, it will hunt you down and relish in the taste of the hot blood spilling from your dying body.

Variations & Mutation

Everyone knows that the Feywild is a dangerous place not to be trifled with. This is just one of many cautionary tales originating from it. As with most of them, this one bears some truth to it.
In the deepest, darkest depths of the Winter Court's expansive woods, a creature lurks and roams. Sometimes it walks like a man, sometimes it runs as the wolves do. Sometimes it has fur, sometimes it has skin. Sometimes it speaks, sometimes it howls and growls. But always, always, it is tall and starved. Always it is armed with claws and teeth to rip and tear and shred even the toughest of hides and armour. Always it is hungry, always it is waiting for the next meal to chase.

Written for Spooktober 2022
Prompt 13: Escape

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Date of First Recording

Roughly 300 years ago

Related Locations

• The Feywild

Related People

• The Hunger