Dylan closed her mouth and looked at him attentively, watching his reactions. He was still frozen, his eyes searching the darkness. Dylan glanced once more in the direction of his gaze, but still couldn't see what had caused Tristan's response. His tension was infectious, though, and she felt her stomach tightening. Her heart started to beat faster and she had to concentrate on inhaling through her nose to keep her breathing under control.
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"What is it?" Dylan squinted in the direction he was looking, but could see nothing out of the ordinary through the gloom. She could just make out the shape of hills in the distance, and the track that they were descending. Though she stared fixedly for a long moment, nothing moved. She was about to open her mouth to ask what he had seen when he held up his hand, motioning for quiet.
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He put his finger to his lips.
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Dylan gasped quietly, but the next second they were as black as coals in the night and she was left wondering whether she had imagined it.
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Tristan continued to stare keenly forward for another moment, then turned to look at her. For a short while his eyes glowed vividly, like blue flames.
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"Wolves?" she mouthed, too frightened to speak. He nodded. Dylan looked back at the landscape in front of them, searching the black grasses for the silhouettes. It was still empty.
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The wind seemed to pick up as they stood there, whipping around them. The noise rushed in Dylan's ears, but above it she thought she detected a faint howling. The same animal noises they had heard earlier. Tristan had said that they were nothing to worry about, but his rigid posture told her otherwise.
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"There's a derelict wooden cabin at the bottom of this hill." His words were whispered too, but fervent. "We need to reach it. We're going to have to go a little faster, Dylan."
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His words frightened Dylan. She scanned the dark, half hoping that the danger would reveal itself, half hoping that it would not. She could see nothing, but the darkness was thickening somehow. Even the ground at her feet was now just a black shadow. If she tried to go faster she would fall, possibly taking Tristan down with her.
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"What are we going to do?" she whispered. Anxiety had pushed her unconsciously closer to him, seeking protection, and she was able to murmur into his ear.
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"But where are they?" she whispered back.
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"It doesn't matter right now; we just have to move."
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"Tristan, I can't see," she mumbled, fear making her voice catch.
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"I've got you," he said, and the certainty in his voice gave her courage, warmed the chill in her chest. He reached for her hand, fingers curling around hers and then gripped it tightly. Dylan realised with a start that this was the first time they had touched. She was nearly glad that it was dark. Despite the horror of the moment, she felt almost jittery from the contact. His hand was very warm, and the hold he took on her fingers was strong. Immediately she felt safer. His confidence was obvious in every word, every movement. It gave her confidence, too.
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"Let's go," he said.
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He led the way forward at a much faster pace. Dylan tried to keep up, but the darkness was thick and she could no longer see the rocks or clumps of grass, and so she tripped and stumbled often, already unbalanced from descending such a steep incline. Her trainers were old and the treads on them were worn. At one point she put her foot down heavily on a patch of gravel and it slid right out from under her. Her other foot tried to find purchase on the ground but it hit the hill at an awkward angle. Forced to put her full weight on it, the muscles in her ankle wobbled and strained, trying to hold her upright. She felt a sharp pain as the joint twisted under her. With a whimper, she felt herself falling, her leg buckling, but Tristan's hand kept a firm grip on hers and he tensed his arm, yanking her to a halt and stopping the back of her head smacking against the cold ground. At that moment he seemed to be impossibly strong. With just one arm he pulled her back upright, almost lifting her off the ground before settling her back on her feet. In the next second he was urging her forward again.
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"You're doing great, Dylan, keep going," he told her.
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"Almost there," he said, slightly breathless.
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The animal wailing was getting louder, closer. It was now a constant, interweaving orchestra of noise. Dylan couldn't guess how many creatures were circling them. She still hadn't caught even a glimpse of a wolf, though her eyes darted left and right, scanning the area around them. Still, they were almost there now. They would make it. She was glad that the cabin looked a lot sturdier than the tumbledown cottage that they had been forced to sleep in the night before. There would have been nowhere to hide, no way to keep them out. They were so close now that Dylan could almost make out the reflection of her frightened face in the windowpane.
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The ground levelled out and Dylan felt more comfortable trying to stride forward. Her ankle throbbed with every step, but she was sure that it was only twisted, not sprained. Tristan pressed on faster, encouraging her into an uneven jog.
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Looking forward, Dylan thought she could make out the faint outline of a building not far ahead. It was, as Tristan had said, a wooden cabin. As they moved closer the details began to appear. This place had a door still intact, with two glass windows on either side. The roof was a steep apex with a little slightly lopsided chimney poking out at one end. They would reach it in just a couple of minutes with the pace Tristan was setting.
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"Tristan, what's happening?" she shrieked, casting her voice above the wind and the howling, which was rising in a frightening crescendo, interspersed with hisses and screams. The ice in her chest made it painful to breath.
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These were not wolves.
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That was when she felt it. It began as a chill around her heart, and then her breath seemed to freeze in her lungs. In the dark she couldn't see them; she could merely make out the movement in the air, shadows upon shadows. They whirled before her and she felt the air stir against her skin as they snaked around her. Testing, tasting the air.
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Something rushed past her. Although she yanked her head back quickly enough to snap her jaw shut, the thing slashed across her face, causing a burning across the bridge of her nose and her cheek. She wiped her hand roughly across her skin and felt wetness there. She was bleeding.
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"They're here." Tristan's voice was full of dread, and so quiet that the words seemed not to be for her ears. Nonetheless Dylan heard them, and they scared her more than anything else. There was something odd about the way he spoke. It was as if he had known these creatures were coming, as if he knew what they were. What secrets was he keeping from her?
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"Dylan, no! Don't let go of me!"
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She felt fingers reaching for her, and searched the air for his hand, but came up empty. Then suddenly she was grabbed by what felt like hundreds of hands, that seemed to have no more substance than smoke. They were strong though, and through the sheer force of their numbers she felt them pulling her downward, even though there was nowhere to go. Instinctively she flailed with her arms, trying to knock them away, but her hands found nothing in the air. What was going on? These were not animals or birds. She stopped moving and felt the substanceless things return immediately. How could she fight something she couldn't touch? Under the combined strength of the creatures, her legs collapsed and she sank to the ground.
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Out of the gloom in front of her a shadow appeared, heading straight for her. She didn't have time to react, to step sideways out of its path, or even brace herself. But the impact she was waiting for never came. Amazingly, the shadow seemed to pass right through her. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but it felt like a frozen arrow passing through her body. Dropping Tristan's hand, she grabbed her middle, expecting to find a wound, or hole, but her jumper was completely intact.
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"Tristan," she whispered. "Help."
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"Dylan!"
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Although he was standing right next to her, Tristan's voice seemed very far away. It barely registered over the sound of jubilant snarling and shrieking. The things were swarming all over her now. She could feel them on her arms, her legs, across her stomach, even on her face. Everywhere they touched her burned like frosted metal on bare skin. More and more of them were passing through her body, chilling her bones. There was no adrenaline in her fear. Instead, terror weakened her. She had no power to battle on, to struggle against the unbeatable.
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Her voice had less strength than a murmur. She felt weak all over, as if something had drained her of energy. It was hard to refuse the weight of the coaxing hands. Down, down, down, towards the ground, then, astonishingly, past it. The dirt and rock did not seem as solid as it should. Dylan felt she could slip through it as if it was liquid.
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"Dylan!" Tristan's voice could have been coming from underwater. It was distorted and fuzzy. "Dylan, listen to me!"
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A hand grabbed the front of her jumper roughly. It hurt. The air around her was filled with angry hisses, and Dylan agreed -- the hand should stop. The fist shook harder and then yanked her upwards. She felt like she was trapped in a tug of war.
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She could hear a note of panic, and she wanted to comfort him. She felt almost calm, weightless and tranquil; he should be calm too.
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The hissing intensified and the pulling hands transformed into ferocious talons, digging in like needles all over her body. They tore at her clothes and tangled into her hair, wrenching her head back and pulling a cry of pain from her lips. The unknown assailants seemed to enjoy that, and the hissing transformed into cackling, a menacing screech that drove straight into Dylan's heart and chilled it.
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Suddenly Dylan was hauled upwards. The hand holding the front of her jumper pulled her upright and an arm snaked under her knees and lifted her into the air. Her feet dangled and her head lolled backwards until she could summon the strength to lift it. She knew she was in Tristan's arms. She didn't have time to be embarrassed, although he had her pinned tightly to his chest, shielding her, because the creatures had not given up the fight. They snapped at her feet and circled around Tristan. They grabbed at his clothes, his hair; slashed angrily in front of his face. Ignoring them, he held her tightly to him and began to run. The claws lost their grip, but they tried to grasp her again and again. Dylan could feel the air rushing past as the things whooshed around her; they were close enough to slash shallow gashes across her skin, but could not grip her as Tristan stormed down the hill towards the cabin.
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The cabin was incredibly close now. Tristan's feet thumped against a paved path as he flew across the final few metres. Not letting go of her, he somehow opened the door and dashed inside. The final thing Dylan heard was a thunderous chorus of screams. There were no words to hear, but the emotions were clear in their screeching clamour: they were furious.
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The screaming reached fever pitch as Tristan neared the shelter, as the things realised that they were about to lose their prey. They doubled their efforts, targeting Dylan as Tristan seemed impervious to their attacks. They scratched and tore at her, focusing on her head and her hair. Dylan tried to hide her face in Tristan's shoulder, seeking protection.
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