The Jaghoul

“Ugh…my head,” Gersalek Boccano complained as he sat up. His head was pounding, almost as if a blacksmith were hammering away on it. His sunken black eyes looked exhausted. His thick black beard and mustache covered up his various scars and his shoulder-length black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He looked around but didn’t recognize anything. He was in a small clearing with trees all around him. He clearly wasn’t at his tent or even close to it. He continued to rub his head before noticing a broken bottle of ale. Another bottle was next to him.

“Last thing I remember…” He closed his eyes, hoping that would help jog his memory. It didn’t. He stood up and searched his body for any wounds. Luckily, he was okay. His brown boots were muddy, more so than usual but that seemed to be the only thing wrong.

“Did I come out here without a weapon?” He asked as he looked for either his bow or his sword. “I must have been really crazy. Ugh…” His hand latched back onto his head. “I need to stop drinking.”

He took a few steps forward before noticing footprints in the dirt. Figuring they must be his, Gersalek began to follow them. The footprints were not in a straight line and at one point, he circled around a tree a couple of times. The sounds of nature were all around him; birds chirping, small critters scurrying among the leaves and along the trees. He kept feeling like something or someone was watching him, but he couldn’t figure out from where. He took a couple more steps and heard a noise come from behind him. It was loud and cut between the trees. The noise frightened the birds and the little animals, who all flew or scurried away. It was the sound of a fallen branch breaking.

Gersalek spun around but saw nothing. His keen eyes searched the area again and again but all he could see were the trees, the bushes, and the weeds. He looked again, this time at a slower pace, and this time, he spotted it. Standing several feet away from him, slowly approaching him, was a jaghoul. A jaghoul was an enormous cat with brown fur and green spots, long, sharp teeth, and the ability to camouflage. A single jaghoul could easily rip a person in half. This one looked different. Instead of brown and green, this jaghoul was black and white with a noticeable scar on its cheek.

Gersalek reached for his sword before remembering that he doesn’t have it. Unsure of what to do, he held out his hand and began to back up. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” His low whisper had no effect on the jaghoul. He could hear it breathing; it was a raspy, hoarse sound. It leaped into the air and slashed at him but barely missed. The claws easily tore into a tree. Gersalek took off running as fast as he could. He ran in a zig-zag pattern because he knew the jaghoul would easily overtake him if he ran straight. He could hear the animal jumping between trees and lunging at him. He didn’t look behind him from fear of slowing down.

Up ahead, besides some rocks, was the skeleton remains of a person. Stocking out of their skull was a dagger. Gersalek has no idea what condition it was in but even a blunt, dull dagger is better than his fists. He broke from his zig-zag pattern and raced towards the skeleton. He could hear the jaghoul gaining on him. Its raspy breathing getting louder and louder. He heard its paws lift off from the ground. He dropped as fast as he could and felt the large cat sail over him. He scurried on all fours to the skeleton and with a single pull, removed the dagger from its victim. Now on his knees but armed, Gersalek was ready to fight the animal. However, the jaghoul was nowhere to be found. Figuring it was camouflaging itself again, Gersalek kept his guard up as he got to his feet. He looked around, quickly reacting to any noise he heard but he couldn’t find the animal. He dashed over to a tree and pressed his back against it. He stayed there, in that heighten alerted state but the jaghoul remained hidden. After waiting there for several minutes, Gersalek began to believe the animal must have just…left.