Page 115 of Lost to the Woods

My breath comes in ragged gasps, my lungs on fire. I don’t know how long I’ve been running. The moon is a sliver above, barely any light, but I see the shadows move.

Something grunts.

Low.Starving.

My legs ache, my lungs burn, but I can’t stop. Not now. Not when it’s so close. The sound of its breathing grows heavier, and I know it’s right behind me.

Panic surges through me, and I trip—my ankle twists, and I go down hard, the axe slipping from my fingers. I scramble for it, my fingers brushing the handle just as the air changes.

I glance over my shoulder, slow and terrified, and I see it.

It’s right there. The thing. That forest creature.

Gigantic. Nine feet tall, probably more, towering over me. Lanky, stretched too long, limbs bending wrong. Dark fur clings to its body in patches, the rest slick with something wet. Its head is a bare-bone stag’s skull, antlers curling up into the night, but wrong, twisted like gnarled branches of petrified wood. Empty sockets where eyes should be glow red, looking directly at me.

It sees me.

Its breath rattles, hot and thick with the stench of decay and rotting meat.

I don’t scream. I don’t even move. I only whisper, “P-please.”

It tilts its head. A wet, clicking sound comes from its throat. The creature is eerily beautiful in a way, like a haunting work of art.

I lift a shaking hand and press my palm to its snout. The smooth bone is warm. Alive.

It inhales deeply, sniffing me.

Its tongue flicks out, grazing the thin skin of my wrist. I gasp as it licks a slow, deliberate path along my arm to my neck, right where my pulse races beneath the surface. It’s feeding off my fear, I realize, savoring the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

A menacing roar splits the night as its huge, razor-sharp claws dig into my waist, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing—the axe left lying somewhere below. I’m trapped in its wide arms, my body pressed against its fur-covered chest.

I shriek, kicking, but its grip is iron. I can feel its power, the way it could crush me if it wanted to.

Instead, it flips me upside down, and the world tilts, blood rushing to my head. I grab its forearms, trying to right myself, but it doesn’t let go.

Its tongue drags up my stomach.

It’s wrong—too long, too pointed, wet and hot as it laps at the blood streaking my skin. It groans, the sound vibrating through me, and then it bites. Sharp teeth sink into my side until I hear my ribs crack.

Pain flares—sharp and bright—racing through my body. It’s blinding, electric, lighting every nerve on fire. And beneath it, something darker coils, something I don’t want to admit.

Its slimy tongue flicks over my nipple, and I gasp, my back bowing to get away, but there’s no escape. Its breath is damp and scalding, spilling over my hypersensitive skin in ragged bursts. It clings to me, suffocating, as if the very air around him is tainted. It makes a noise, something between agrowl and a purr, that seems to rise from the depths of the earth. It vibrates through my bones, rattling me to my core, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

And then, it’s licking lower, over my stomach… between my legs.

No.

The sensation is shocking. The creature laps at my pussy noisily, tasting. Teasing. My thighs shake, torn between clamping shut or spreading wider. I cry out when its tongue pushes inside, the muscle writhing like a living thing, stretching me obscenely. It’s too much. Too thick. Too deep.

But when it pulls away, it’s too fast.

Its teeth graze my thigh, and it bites. Hard. Pain explodes, white-hot and jagged, as it rips the skin, the tissue, muscle.

Crack.

My head swims.

It adjusts its grip, one massive hand fully circling my waist, holding me like a doll. I’m helpless in its grasp, but I don’t fight it. Not now. Not when every instinct in me is screaming to survive, to do whatever it takes to live through this.

---