Running on All Fours

I've been called a lot of things: psychic, medium, astral traveler, witch, possessed, spiritwalker, crazy, and different. Which one is the most accurate is a lot less important than why these words became pinned to me in the first place, however.

I couldn't tell you for certain when this really, truly began. From the earliest memories that I have, I saw things that no one else did. Shadows, figures, and the faint glow of auras. It didn't matter whether I was burrowed under the covers of my bed in the deepest part of night, cowering from a large black entity lumbering down the staircase leading into my room or if it was bright daylight out in the garden, with smaller shadows flitting here and there deviously; they surrounded me always.

I was in a constant state of fear of these unknown beings, doing everything I could to avoid their notice. That is, until I met Arc.

Up until this time, the figures I had seen were anything but human. Many resembled animals or strange hybrids more than anything. They ranged from seven-foot tall behemoths to cat-like pieces of scurrying darkness. Arc was different, though. He came to me at night, as some of the others tended to, and walked right up to the corner of my bed, silent. Unlike the darker energies that roiled around the other figures I'd seen, all I could feel from him was something like uncertainty. Shyness, even. Nothing about him was threatening -- his silhouette was perfectly human as far as I could tell, and petite at that. Just over five feet and skinny.

I was cautious, nonetheless. I held perfectly still, tried to slow my breathing as to make it silent. My efforts were fruitless; he already knew I was there. I could feel his eyes on me, even if I couldn't see them, and we engaged in a stare-off.

I lost. Drowsiness washed over me in thick waves until my eyes rolled back and deep sleep claimed me as quickly and efficiently as a tranquilizer.

When I opened my eyes, a completely different scene awaited my gaze. Rather than the spacious, if slightly unkempt bedroom, a dusky sky loomed over my head. Crisp, tawny grass crinkled underneath my bare feet, ticklish and dry as it fought a losing battle against what I took to be autumn. The smell of dry, crumpling leaves, dust and the faint tang of rust colored the brisk air around me.

I had no recollection of this place whatsoever. A thin forest of young pines filtered into existence off to the left, and the clearing I stood in held no notable features save a desolate swing-set -- the old metal kind with almost no paint left and the sort of unused, unmaintained look that led me to believe that it had not been used in a very, very long time.

This place was filled with the kind of emptiness that makes you hesitate to breath. No birds, no bugs, no signs of life. Except for him.

It's hard to say how I knew it was the same young man that had been standing at my bedside; I could only make out his most basic features in the darkness of my room. Here, standing in the dim remnants of daylight, there was no doubt in my mind that the brunette boy before me was the same person. His eyes, the color of sapphires, watched me solemnly, almost curiously, as if waiting to see what I would do. His slender figure was motionless, letting me make the first move.

Whatever trepidation I had held upon seeing him at first had completely disintegrated. It was hard to think I had been worried or afraid of such a delicate teenage boy, who was pretty in the sense that most girls were pretty.

"Where-?" I opened my mouth, a dozen questions fighting their way out. When he frowned at me and put a finger to his lips, though, my voice died in my throat.

He gave no explanation for the suggestion of silence. Instead, his big blue eyes slid over to the ruined structures of an old cityscape that nature had already begun to devour. It was just far enough for the rusted metal frames to poke through the camouflage of trees.

I felt it as soon as he looked over there. The sensation of ice swept over me, my stomach jumped into my throat, and my heart forgot to beat. The brunette, if I could describe how he felt to me, was like the warmth of a stray sun-ray, the softness of a kitten's fur, or the smell of night-blooming flowers. This, whatever this was, couldn't have felt further from that. It felt like swallowing acid, being submerged in cold water. It reeked of the metallic tang of copper or blood, and felt like steel wool rubbed against your skin.

I couldn't see the thing, whatever it was, but it felt huge. Although nothing but my screaming instincts held proof of anything being there, I could nearly imagine it's shoulders (if, indeed, it had shoulders) bumping against the clouds as it turned it's hostile gaze towards us. After all, by the looks of this place, there wasn't exactly anyone else left to hunt.

The mystery brunette still hadn't spoken a single word to me, but at this point I wasn't eager to complain. I had a sinking suspicion that we'd already drawn too much attention to ourselves.

Catching my gaze, the boy nodded to one side, jogging away from the aging swing-set and into the cover of trees, leading the way. I followed, having no better ideas of my own. Eventually, the scratchiness of the drying grass gave way to the uncomfortable gravelly feeling of old asphalt as he carefully picked out a path and trotted ahead of me, down crumbling side-roads and derelict buildings. I could feel the leviathan following us, almost languid and patient in it's long, slow strides. Breathing hard and looking back for a sign of our unseen predator, I nearly ran straight into the boy as he had stopped rather suddenly, waiting for me evidently.

As far as I could tell, it was a dead-end. The remains of a once enormous wooden building surrounded us, many of the boards fallen and cracked to reveal crevices that were just too small for either of us. Before panic could overwhelm me though, I caught the look in his eyes. He still hadn't spoken even once to me, but within those blue eyes were volumes of words. His expression wasn't that of fear or worry, but rather of determination. He waited until he had my complete attention, and then, suddenly, rather than the brunette youth, I was faced by a small jackal, it's triangular ears perked to attention, regarding me with the same sapphire gaze. After holding my gaze a moment longer, the small canine turned tail and darted through one of the gaps in the crumbling frame.

Maybe it should have occurred to me then that I was almost certainly doomed. That boy had a nice trick, but there was clearly nothing up my sleeve. This sort of fatal logic was lost in the adrenaline of the moment, however. I just remember scrambling on my hands and knees, trying to squeeze through the tiny space after my notably silent companion. I tried to make myself as small as possible, tried squeezing through....

Almost there.... almost.... just a little smaller....

There must have been some sort of switch that flicked, some sort of transition between the awkward girl trying to shove herself into a cranny that was clearly too small, knees and hands covered in dust and small flecks of red, tawny hair catching on the splinters of the boards around her, and a second jackal with green eyes racing to catch up to her only hope of escaping the unseen horror that hovered at the entrance to the makeshift tunnel. There was no conscious attempt to change into anything other than what I was, and no recollection of changing. I just remember the desperation as I tried to worm my way after my wayward companion, and eventually was small enough to squeeze through the space, all four feet a blur as I ran ahead to catch up with him, my claws digging into the soft, ruined wood of the beam below me.

We wound our way through awkward spaces, ran when we had room, and simply continued to put as much distance between ourselves and the thing that had been following us. It felt like hours; I was breathing hard, panting for breath despite the fact that my legs didn't seem to tire, following the brown and black tail ahead of me with a single-minded focus.

When my companion did eventually slow, he ducked under a couple of fallen beams into a large empty area. Grasses and small wildflowers poked up through the soil underneath us, with the remnants of an old building up above. Sunlight filtered softly through the cracks and gaps between each board. It felt serene, safe. The icy, grating presence of the thing from before had disappeared, unable to follow our crazed escape.

When the blue eyed jackal yawned, and curled up in a ball to rest, I didn't feel any hesitation to do the same. I felt safe here, away from prying eyes and in good company. I drifted off slightly, the warmth of the sunlight above pleasant as the sensation of floating slowly overcame me. Something nagged at the back of my mind, though, keeping me from falling into true sleep.

I still didn't know his name.

The brunette with those soulful blue eyes and delicate features who had helped me to escape the terror from before was still as much a mystery as he had been from the start. I peeked one eye open in an attempt to stay awake, my green gaze settling sleepily onto the small jackal next to me. There was something between us, after our flight together away from that nameless evil. Trust, I suppose, was the best word for it. Maybe even bordering on friendship.

Even my curiosity wasn't enough stop the lure of sleep, though. As I felt myself falling slowly into slumber, I clung to the question that consumed my thoughts even now. I refused to let go of it even as my consciousness slipped.

Who are you...?

The scent of earth and rotting wood, dry grass and daylight faded into something softer as darkness slipped around my like a warm blanket. I was just on the edge of consciousness when the answer that I wasn't expecting came.

Laemaikys.

I could see each letter branded into my vision even with my eyes closed. The word was spoken, too, though, in his own voice. Soft and lyrical. I could almost feel the smile in that single strange word.

Seconds later, my green eyes blinked open, adjusting to the sunlight pouring around the curtains in my own familiar bedroom.

I lay there for awhile, absorbing everything. The possibility of writing everything off as a dream hovered in my mind momentarily. It was tempting, certainly. But I had dreamed many times before, and it had never been as vivid as that. I had never felt grass between my toes, smelled metal and dirt, or felt the slight chill of a breeze in a dream. More than that, Laemaikys, or "Arc" as he was later nicknamed, was still there. I could feel something between us, like a string of light or a small tunnel. I could sense his smile, his benevolence, as if at any given time he was standing beside me. I could wonder about something, and feel his answer or comment on the subject. I could virtually see the way he would tilt his head thoughtfully, frowning just slightly before giving his opinion on something.

It wasn't frightening, anymore, though.

It felt right.