Like I said, we are the ultimate hunters.
I was thinking about that now, reveling in my, well, greatness, when something thunderous crashed into me.
* * *
Rarely have I been hit so hard.
In fact, I could never think of a harder impact, especially one that sent me tumbling head over ass through a tangle of blackberry bushes.
And I mean a tangle. As I extricated myself from the thorny vines, I was a bleeding mess. But, being who I am, the wounds healed quickly.
As the kids say, that’s how I roll.
I carefully scanned my surroundings. Whatever had hit me was gone, having slipped back into the shadows, hidden even from my near-perfect night vision.
I heard a whispering of sound to my right, perhaps the slightest brush of a foot over leaves—remember, nothing escapes my hearing—when something slammed into me hard enough for me to believe I was in the path of a charging rhino. Which I had been once, before I feasted upon the creature (and made it appear to have been a poacher’s handiwork).
Anyway, there was no rhino in these forests. There was, in fact, nothing big enough in the Olympic Peninsula to hit me as hard as I had been hit. And as stealthily. Grizzly bears had long been pushed to extinction in Washington State. And black bears were far too slow and loud and stupid to hit me with such precision, silence and strength.
So what had hit me?
I didn’t know, but whatever was out there had me spinning around as I scrambled to my feet, had me looking wildly over my shoulders and behind me and up into the trees—had me feeling, well, mortal.
And for the first time in a long, long time, I felt fear. Real fear.
I hate when that happens.
So I continued scanning the forest, feeling my heart thumping in my chest for the first time in years. I could not think of the last time that anyone—or anything—had gotten the upper hand on me.
The forest was silent.
No, not quite silent. I can hear what might be breathing. Except it’s coming from seemingly everywhere at once. I keep turning in circles, doing my damndest to get a handle on what is out here; in particular, on what is taking these small, shallow, controlled breaths.
I reached out with my mind. I can do this. I can do many things to hunt and kill and feed. Except I was having difficulty focusing now. Knowing there was something out there, something seemingly faster and stronger than me was unnerving.
Impossible, I think. I am the greatest hunter. The most successful hunter.
I hear my own breathing now which is strange, since I don’t need to breathe. No, I was breathing out of an old habit. A habit of fear. A fear of being hunted.
There. I hear another sound. A tree branch snapping, and now I was moving quickly, covering the open space of the forest floor quickly, pouncing upon the site where I’d just heard the snap—
Except there’s nothing here.
I turn again, spinning, when something reaches around my neck, something much bigger than me, something more powerful than anything I’d ever experienced before. Something inhuman. Hell, something not of this earth.
It is a hand, clamped around my throat, lifting me off the ground.
I fight it, using my own great strength, strength that has hunted and killed and maimed and spread fear around the globe for centuries.
Except I...couldn’t...fight it.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
This isn’t happening.
The hand continues squeezing, and rising, lifting me off my feet. My hiking shoes dangle as I continued fighting, struggling, even as I felt my neck being literally crushed.
Now, I hear the sounds of more heavy footfalls.