here to stay

He's gone before you can even call his name. For a long time you sit there in shock, rubbing the tight muscles in your leg, trying not to panic. You have a map, but you hardly know how to use it. Hiking isn't your thing, and you can't remember the way back. You get to your feet and hobble up the ridge, hoping you'll be able to spot him, but he's already gone. Tears start to well in your eyes as rage swells in your chest. This is it. If you somehow make it back safely, you're going to end things with him. He's going to regret his actions, beg and tell you that he didn't mean it, that he didn't realize you'd fallen so far behind. He's done it before, just not on this scale.

He probably wants me dead. That dark thought seeps into your mind and you swipe the tears from your cheeks. You're not just going to sit here and accept your fate. You take a step forward.

SNAP.

You pause at the sound of a twig breaking. That wasn't you.

"H-hello?" You call out into the growing darkness, squinting as the sun fades and takes the last of the light with it.

You didn't think this hike would be so long and you didn't bring a source of light, and your phone somehow ended up with your boyfriend.

"Is someone out here?" You try again. "Hello–"

Something warm bumps against your hand and you scream and pedal backwards, falling on your ass.

"Sorry," a voice whispers in the dark. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Oh my god, so I'm not the only one out here. Can you help me?" The adrenaline racing through you causes you to speak too quickly, without thinking.

What if this isn't a good person? What if they're out here looking for victims who are lost and alone? A chill comes over you, especially when you realize the person is in the dark, same as you.

"Are you lost?" They ask.

You listen to the way they speak. They have an odd accent and a lisp that makes their words end in a hiss.

"I..."

"It's okay, I'll help you."

Something touches your hand. Fingers entwine with yours and pull you up from the ground. Their fingers end in sharp curves. Claws?

"What–" you try to pull your hand away, but they hold on tight.

"Careful, you might fall," they murmur.

Something clunks and rattles.

"What's that?" You peep out, unsure whether to cling to them for safety, or run because they are the danger.

"My bones," they say softly.

You don't realize how scared you are until you take a breath and it turns into a sob.

"P-please don't hurt me," you say meekly. "I just want to go home. My boyfriend left me–"

"Shhh, I know, and I won't hurt you. Not you," the voice says.

You stumble along in the dark, fearfully clinging to their too-long fingers and sharp claws. The moon is little more than a sliver in the sky, and the most you can make out of the thing beside you is their freakishly tall form and antlers on their head that are strung with tiny bones like a wind chime. The bones rattle every time they turn their head to look at you. You snap your eyes away, your heart pounding in your chest.

You don't dare say anything else for the next five minutes. Suddenly your feet hit asphalt, and you stumble. They catch you, but you hear your shirt rip as their claws shear through. They readjust and grab your arm instead, apologizing.

"It's okay, I'm not hurt," you murmur.

A highway stretches before you, dipping towards the starry horizon. Insects buzz and the wind is a whispered howl in the trees.

"A car will come," the being says. "This land traps people. Please don't return."

"Are you trapped?" You ask.

They're silent for a while. "I'm used to it," they reply.

You hear the distant sound of an approaching car.

"Be safe," they say hastily. "I must go."

As headlights crest over the hill, you catch a glimpse of their lumbering form and pointed antlers as they slip back into the trees. You manage to hitch a ride and get home safely. You find your boyfriend huddled in a corner of the living room, looking like he's seen a ghost. His backpack is ripped to shreds, clawed in the same way that your shirt is, except he looks like he's had a much more violent experience.

He's shocked to see you're alive and barely protests when you kick him out of your house. He keeps asking what happened to your shirt, and if you saw it too. He tells you he's afraid it's going to come back and kill him and he's almost mad with fear. He runs off with his phone glued to his ear, and you have a feeling this is the last time you'll see him.