[ He can feel breath on his neck. He can feel something breathing down it, sweet and teasing and sharp and threatening - it's not a phantom sensation, his hair moves beneath the weight of it, strands fly forward and into his mouth. The fear in him is beyond anything that can be described in any way other than primal. It's that bone-deep built-in survival mechanism, that thing in humans that just knows things and those things save their lives. It's what drives children to nightlights. It's what renders people speechless and immobile before predators and deadly snakes.
He knows that if he turns around and sees it, it will fucking kill him. Really, really, he knows. Not even just turning, if he catches a peripheral glance, if he sees a fucking reflection, he knows it'll be the worst thing he's ever felt.
And he knows he's not going to outrun it. That it will follow him. He knows that it's that making voices ring through the trees around him that are familiar, sometimes Mace, sometimes his mother, sometimes threats and pleas and gentle encouragements. Sometimes just his name, a sharp and sudden sound like I found you, please look, it's me, I'm over here.
He is fifteen years old again. He's a fucking kid, dodging around trees like the time he saw someone's severed finger rolling across the stained and water-softened wood of a dilapidated house. Knew then that the rest of the body was nearby, he thinks, and that's why he bolted.
It's Mace that makes him stumble - not the phantom sound of him, not distant screaming or haunting voices. It's spotting him on a low-hanging branch, and the devastating fact that he doesn't know. That he's searching the fog, deliberately searching it.
He's gonna have to apologize later.
Momentum carries him forward, a fallen tree makes for a push-off point, and it's with that he grabs him by the ankle to yank him down off the tree. ]
Shut your eyes-
[ It claws its way out of his throat, and god hopefully Mace recognizes him this time because there's not a single second of pause before he's clamoring over Mace's body, whether or not it's injured, whether or not something's sprained or bleeding, it doesn't matter, whatever it takes to get him close enough that Ian can slap a hand over his eyes to keep him from seeing whatever it is that breaks through the treeline behind him. ]
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He knows that if he turns around and sees it, it will fucking kill him. Really, really, he knows. Not even just turning, if he catches a peripheral glance, if he sees a fucking reflection, he knows it'll be the worst thing he's ever felt.
And he knows he's not going to outrun it. That it will follow him. He knows that it's that making voices ring through the trees around him that are familiar, sometimes Mace, sometimes his mother, sometimes threats and pleas and gentle encouragements. Sometimes just his name, a sharp and sudden sound like I found you, please look, it's me, I'm over here.
He is fifteen years old again. He's a fucking kid, dodging around trees like the time he saw someone's severed finger rolling across the stained and water-softened wood of a dilapidated house. Knew then that the rest of the body was nearby, he thinks, and that's why he bolted.
It's Mace that makes him stumble - not the phantom sound of him, not distant screaming or haunting voices. It's spotting him on a low-hanging branch, and the devastating fact that he doesn't know. That he's searching the fog, deliberately searching it.
He's gonna have to apologize later.
Momentum carries him forward, a fallen tree makes for a push-off point, and it's with that he grabs him by the ankle to yank him down off the tree. ]
Shut your eyes-
[ It claws its way out of his throat, and god hopefully Mace recognizes him this time because there's not a single second of pause before he's clamoring over Mace's body, whether or not it's injured, whether or not something's sprained or bleeding, it doesn't matter, whatever it takes to get him close enough that Ian can slap a hand over his eyes to keep him from seeing whatever it is that breaks through the treeline behind him. ]