She raised her head from her forearm in a slow arc, screening her barely open eyes both with the fall of her hair and the shadows across her face from the dying fire. The slight movement allowed a cold draft into the warm sleeping bag and helped to jolt her to full awareness. She breathed slowly, shallowly, thinking I’m Still Sleeping thoughts and hoping the thing stalking her campsite was fooled, even as her fingers shifted to close about the grip of the pistol. It was just a small noise, but a chilling one nonetheless. Something from out of nightmares. Something she’d hoped never to hear again.
It came again, the slow scrape of a clawed foot, something like fingernails on chalkboard crossed with the whine of a rusty hinge. A noise you didn’t forget. An image you didn’t forget. Iron claws on granite, a creature that should have been impossible… They weren’t supposed to be able to follow her here.
But one had. Now, the question was what to do about it before the graindall decided to attack.
But the graindall that had decided to follow her, the graindall that would soon decide to attack, had another thing coming.
Because iron claws on granite might be one frightening sound, but the screams of animal fury welling up and about to explode from she who had just returned from the land of Still Sleeping made the fingernails on chalkboard granite-walking sound of the graindall seem like a sonic vacation destination.
There would be some scraping sounds this night. Yes. And they would be chilling. But they’d be coming from the sleepy psycho bitch who had just started her period and who was, this night, looking for something on which to release her wrath.
That testosterone-loaded graindall was soon to be . . . fucking toast.
Opening: Writtenwyrdd.....Continuation: Robin S.