Them
It was a sound that woke him. Though he was sleepy his senses were immediately on high alert . He wasn’t sure if he had actually heard the sound or had dreamed it. A second later he had his answer when first a rabbit ran past, and then a fox scuttled over their intertwined limbs.
Panic set his heart to double time as he pawed his family group awake. He shook them hard, but stayed silent. They would know, there was no need to utter a sound. The danger was coming from the east. He lifted his face toward that direction. The dark was absolute and their eyes were poorly adapted to the moonless nights.
They had only one advantage. Smell. He sniffed, grateful the breeze at least was on their side. He smelled the earthy scent of grass, moss, and rotting leaves of their bed beneath the trees. He hoped he wouldn’t smell their scent. It could be a wolf, or a mountain lion. Those they would have a chance of surviving in a fight or scaring off to live another day.
But they weren’t so lucky this time. It was them. Death. He inhaled the horrible odor that gave them away. The stink of strong glands on hot summer days. They had no choice. They never had a choice. They had to split up and run.
There was usually more than one. They came out in groups to hunt them. Sometimes they used weapons for the sport. Sometimes it was more about the chase and they would fall upon them to tear them apart. It didn’t matter. He and others like him were game to be hunted, nothing more.
He wanted to run with his mate but knew the odds of survival were improved if they split up. She clutched their child to her breast, gave him one longing look, and then dashed off into the night. The others scattered as well. The air was cool and damp, causing small bumps to break out over his skin. But as he ran, he quickly began to heat up, sweat slipping down his body in small trickles of fear and exertion.
He could hear the other clutches around him coming to alert. He could see some of them, slipping through the trees. Their footsteps through the layer of leaves and twigs littering the forest floor were like giants yelling, “Come get me!” He could hear some soft sobbing from the darkness. These were the ones that were broken or ill and had no choice but to wait for Death to find them.
Trees flashed by him as he ran, their branches striking his flesh like small whips. They may not have evolved everything needed to keep themselves alive but some things were better than they had been in the beginning. They had stronger muscles, sharper survival skills. Sometimes he thought hard about why they still ran, still fought, still came together in mates and reproduced. It was pointless really. A life of fear. But there was something instilled deep inside his kind. The desire and determination to survive. Maybe, given enough time, his species could become better, stronger, and fight back against their most dangerous enemy. He didn’t see it happening in his lifetime, or his children’s. But maybe someday it would be possible.
He heard them then, their unmistakably haunting ululation as they stalked their pray. Silence and cunning weren’t tools Death needed. It was simply a matter of odds for himself and the others around him. Who ran the fastest? Who hid the best? Who escaped their clutches by the skin of their teeth?
He heard some of his kind were kept in farms as sources of food and livestock to be released into the wild to keep the population robust and healthy. Some would say it hadn’t always been like this. They'd say things were different before Death arrived.
However, at that moment none of it mattered. Not if he didn’t survive this hunt, and the next, and the one after that, and so on. If his mate didn’t survive or his child to keep his line going so that maybe, someday, they would be free to live without fear.
He ducked his head down, and ran harder, pumping his legs. Around him others thrashed through the brush, beneath the branches, over fallen logs. His kind weren’t the only ones running. Everything that called the forest home was fleeing in terror. Even the winged species, normally silent throughout the night were taking flight over his head.
He could still smell Death, so he knew they were close. He wanted to look back but that would certainly mean the end for him. He just kept pushing, his breath coming in painful rasps, his chest tightening a little more the further he ran.
In front of him someone fell. There was no time, no choice. He leapt over the form of the fallen stranger and kept running. A half a breath later and he heard it behind him. It was a sickening sound. Wet and sucking, with the ganshing of teeth and guttural growls of a feeding animal. He’d been saved.
He keened for the loss of one of his own, but kept running. If he stopped for any one, he'd die for sure.
There was a meeting point that had been agreed upon. A small stream ran through the woods, slightly to the north west of where they’d been sleeping. He had to make it there. He had to know his mate and child were safe.
He began to pull ahead of the rest of them. He felt both relieved and sickened by this. His survival meant others died. But there was nothing he could do. Guilt wasn’t a luxury they as a species could afford. Survival was priority. His pace began to slow. He felt he might be safe now that he had pulled so far ahead. His muscles were screaming for a break and his breathing was whistling and burning. He was almost at the meeting point. He had to keep moving and be certain Death hadn’t followed him.
Finally he stopped, the sound of the stream gurgling away just out of sight. He turned, carefully surveying the forest around him. He couldn’t see anything past the first line of trees. He strained his ears to hear above his labored breathing and cautiously scented the air. Nothing. No one. He was safe.
He reversed to begin making his way toward the stream and ran right into one of them. It had circled around him so that its scent wasn’t being carried to him on the wind. Death stared him in the face as hot urine coursed down his leg. The hair on his body stood up on end and his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.
It was smiling at him, causing fear to clutch its glacial grip around his heart. Its teeth were razor sharp and jagged, perfectly suited for tearing into flesh. The eyes were large dark orbs with spots of white in them. He thought for a moment how they reminded him of the dark night sky sprinkled with stars. The stench this close up was vile decay. Despite his paralyzing fear, his stomach retched and his meager meal hours before ejected from his mouth.
What his irrational mind focused on more than anything though, was how similar they were to he and his kind. They had two arms, two legs, five fingers and toes on each of their two hands and feet. Their skin color was a variety like his kind, but there was a gray tint to their flesh. It could best be seen on the palms of their hands, the lips, tongue, and gums surrounding the sharp and ferocious teeth.
There were rumors of pockets of his kind, hidden deep underground in vast cave systems, rumors of those that still spoke the full range of language, and existed as more than hunted game. But that’s all they were, rumors. He had never put stock in them. Had never come across anyone that knew much about the old ways. The ones that could spin the stories of their ancestors and how the visitors from above had destroyed them, had been massacred long ago. There no longer existed anyone that knew the full truth.
The creature standing before him, the visage of death, opened its mouth wide. He attempted to run, as he lost all control of his bowels, but Death grasped him hard with its vice-like grip and dug its long, pointed nails into his flesh. Guttural sounds emitted from its mouth, garbled by the thick gray tongue and sharp teeth that seemed to fill the entirety of the orifice. He didn’t understand the words, but comprehended the meaning. It was taunting him, playing with its food. This one had no weapons, save for the teeth it showed him in that demented grin. He understood his doom at that moment, as Death descended upon him. He screamed as it tore into his flesh in a blaze of hot pain and the foul, acrid odor of his own blood and bowels combined. He thought of his mate, of his child and screamed as his lifeblood poured from his savaged flesh. He screamed as the sound of Death eating him filled his entire being, until finally, his voice and mind became as dark as the sky above.