Angel of Death

I tugged my hair loose from its braid, golden waves cascading to my shoulders. Running my fingers through it, I grimaced. I couldn’t remember the last time I had taken my hair out of its braid, forget about the last time I had washed it. The stream gurgled invitingly next to me, offering the promise of reprieve from the grime that seemed to have become a living part of me. Tossing my clothes on the bank, I waded into the water. It lapped at my thighs and the sun warmed my bare skin. I sank below the water and only then did I allow my mind to wander.

***

I was washed and dried, my clothes were freshly washed and dried, the fish I had caught myself for dinner was freshly washed and roasting over the fire. I had until sundown to cook and eat, then it was a retreat to the highest branches of the trees for me. I glanced up at the tall oaks and maples surrounding me as I picked the meat off my fish. Emerald leaves hung heavy with the height of summer, darkening with the setting sun. I dug a hole next to the fire and tossed the bones of the fish in it before filling it again, tossing excess dirt over the fire. It went out with a sizzle. Brushing the dirt off my hands, I stood and grabbed my backpack. I had chosen the perfect set of trees for the night; the trunks appeared to stay sturdy all the way to the top and there were plenty of low branches for me to begin my climb. I began my ascent, careful not to look down less I lose my nerve. This had been my routine for days now, but something about being this high off the ground still put me on edge. The branches became more dense and I allowed myself to look over the edge. I was probably around 15 feet off the ground. Accepting that as a safe distance, I pulled my hammock out of my backpack and strapped it to the tree. I hung my backpack on a limb and flung the other strap and part of the hammock to the neighboring tree, catching it on a branch. I made my way carefully down the tree and up the other one, securing the hammock on both sides before climbing in. I pulled a book from my backpack and settled down to wait for darkness to fully embrace the forest.

***

The words began to blur on the page before me and the shrieks from the forest floor began to register. I had just enough light to see my backpack and I tucked the book inside before settling back into my hammock. The first two nights I spent closer to the ground, my hammock up, but me out of it and fighting whatever demons lurked in these woods at night; now I listened to their screams from the treetops and prayed none dare to venture this high into the trees. But I didn’t sleep, I barely ever slept anymore, I dozed with their screams in the background, begging for me to come down.

***

I jerked from my dozing state, there was a new sound in the mix.

“Help!” a voice cried. It sounded close—it sounded human. I patted my thighs, making sure my knives were still there and climbed out of the hammock. Forgoing caution, I shimmied down the tree as quickly as I could—there was another person out there and they were alive. Once on the ground, I launched into a run, stumbling over bushes and brambles, ignoring the pain as they pierced through my jeans. The voice was closer now, the demons were still screaming, but they didn’t come near me.

And then the sounds stopped. The forest was silent. The trees went still. I paused too—paused and listened. Through the silence, I heard a whimper. I crept closer to the sound, matching the silence of the forest as well as I could. I entered a clearing and as one, eyes darker than darkness turned to me. The figures appeared to be floating and standing at the same time, their elongated bodies leered over me. The demons’ eyes tracked me as I looked beyond them to the human form, lying limp on the forest floor. The human moved their arm as if in an attempt to push themselves up. I stayed still as the forest around me, but watching the demons. One’s scaly lips pulled back to reveal pointed, stark white teeth that reflected the moonlight. The creature moved and I charged, plunging my dagger deep in what I assumed was its chest. Smoke billowed off it before it fell to the ground. I turned to the next one, slashing my way through the mob until I made my way to the person. The screaming in the forest had resumed by the time I got to them.

“Hey, are you alive?” I asked, kneeling next to the person. They appeared to be male, probably taller than me if he could stand.

He groaned at me in response. I nudged him onto his back and he let out a cry of pain. “Sorry,” I whispered. I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t do anything. We had a matter of minutes before the demons returned, if that. I couldn’t light a fire or I’d risk attracting a whole other manner of creature.

“You have to get up,” I told him, “They’ll come back.”

He groaned in response, but made to push himself off the ground. I helped him sit up.

“Can you stand?” I asked. He nodded in the darkness and leaned against me once he was standing. I led him to the nearest tree.

“We’re gonna have to climb,” I told him, “It’s the only safe place.”

I couldn’t see his reaction as I instructed him to go first. He grunted in pain but eventually was up the tree. A few branches up, I stopped us. His labored breathing finally convincing me to have some sympathy.

“We’ll wait here for daylight,” I told him, nudging him to a sturdy branch. He leaned heavily against the trunk and I perched next to him. The woods around us continued to scream.

***

The sun began to rise and I allowed myself to fully look at the man I had rescued the night before. He had dark, shaggy hair that fell over his eyes as he dozed. His skin was lightly tanned but had a sickly shimmer about it. His breathing had been labored, but hadn’t faltered all night. I nudged him awake as the screams of the demons began to fade and birdsong welcomed the dawn. He blinked open his eyes, wobbling before grabbing onto the tree trunk.

“Wha-,” he started and then grimaced.

“Let’s get out of the tree,” I suggested. He nodded and began the ascent. Once on the ground, he slumped against the tree. I hopped down next to him and he closed his eyes, sweat beading on his brow. I touched my hand to his cheek. He was hot, so hot. Assessing my surroundings, I saw that a small tent had been set up. I peeked in the tent to find a sleeping bag laid out with a backpack sitting next to it. I scooted into the tent and looked into the backpack; spare clothes, some crackers, and an empty water bottle were all it contained. I took the bottle and left the tent.

“I’ll be right back,” I told him. He didn’t reply and I headed back to my camp.

***

“Drink this,” I ordered, holding the bottle to his lips.

He opened his eyes and squinted at me.

“It’s water, just drink,” I ordered again.

He did as I instructed and raised to hold the bottle himself but flinched.

“Where are you injured?” I asked him.

He opened his eyes fully, “I-I’m not entirely sure.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“My back-it burns.”

I gestured for him to move away from the tree and crouched behind him. His shirt was stuck to his back, stained russet against a light blue.

“Can you take your shirt off?” I asked.

“I think so,” he replied.

I helped him tug his shirt off; he grunted in pain but didn’t stop. I sucked in a breath, blood was clotted from his shoulder to mid-back. The wound oozed a dark green, but not red.

“Lay on your stomach,” I ordered, pulling my backpack to me. I found my water bottle and first-aid kit and began to clean the wound. He hissed but didn’t complain. I cleared away the dried blood to reveal the clotted cuts down his back and proceeded to dress the wound.

“You’ll be fine,” I told him once I finished. “If you can get past the fever and infection, you’ll be fine. I survived cuts from the demons, they’re poisonous, but your body should be able to fight it off.”

I helped him sit up, “Thank you.”

***

For two days he alternated between sleeping in my hammock at night and his tent during the day. I fished for our food and dozed in the hammock until the sun set. By the third day, he followed me to the stream where I was fishing and sat on the sandy bank next to me.

“We should go,” he said.

“Where?” I asked him.

He shrugged, “Where were you heading?”

“I have family just south of here. I was hoping to get there, just to see…” my sentence trailed off and I gazed at the water. He said nothing. “Where were you headed?”

“Away,” was all he said. Away. I nodded and felt myself scooting closer to him.

***

After a quick breakfast of the crackers he had in his backpack, we began our journey. We stopped at the stream to catch lunch and then went back to the trail. By mid-afternoon, the trees began to thin. I stopped, squinting past them.

“What is it?” he asked me.

Instead of replying, I ran ahead. A small cabin came into view. I didn’t stop until I was on the front porch, knocking on the door.

He came up beside me, panting. No one answered. I knocked again and then turned the knob. The door opened. Memories wafted over me as the cool air from the cabin hit me. I stepped into the small room. There was a bed in one corner, a couch in front of a fireplace, a table, and a small kitchen where my grandmother had always managed to bake pie despite the lack of counter space. I could almost hear my grandfather’s laughter as I made my way to the table in the middle of the space.

A locket lay discarded in the center of the table, as if someone had tossed it there when leaving in a hurry. I picked it up carefully, laying the silver and gold heart gently in the palm of my hand. Flicking it open, I found a picture of a baby swaddled in a white blanket, a smile on her face. Tears burned my cheeks as I read the name opposite the picture—my name. Dabria.