A new dawn rises as the fire in Aurora's cave gently crackles and jumps, fed by a steady stream of twigs and logs. She sits there for a moment, enjoying its warmth and the cosy feeling it brings, marvelling at how it feels like the forest hasn't woken up yet. When she steps out to collect ice for water, the air is touched with a calmness. It's like she's arrived at a show too early, before any of the performers are ready.
It is for this reason, perhaps, that her guard is lower this morning. Her thoughts are elsewhere, and she carries out her task on autopilot. Crouched down by the mirror lake, she reaches towards the frozen surface to break away a few shards. Out in the centre of the lake, the water is so deep that the ice appears black. But here at the banks, it is thin and almost completely transparent, like a frosted window. Inside that frosted window are pine needles, trapped in time as the water froze over, like insects stuck in amber.
Aurora looks out across the lake, her hands striking a rock against the ice. She thinks of her old tribe, and of how she misses them. She thinks of Elwen, and how pretty her face used to be when little dimples appeared as she smiled. She thinks of her tribe members' disappointed looks because it had been her turn to watch out for danger, and she had ultimately failed.
And maybe we should take this as a lesson to never get too caught up in the past. Because as she works away, something stirs within the murky depths of the lake. Under the thick wedge of ice on the surface, there remains cold black water that is still liquid. And in this liquid water, a predator slinks closer, alerted by the cracking noises Aurora is making.
It watches her with two acid yellow eyes, the scales of its body effortlessly slipping past each other as it moves its reptilian body. If Aurora had been more alert, she might have noticed the flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. But as we know, she doesn't. She is in her own little world.
With the suddenness of a bolt of lightning, the creature in the lake lunges forward, its knifepoint teeth spearing through the ice with a loud slicing sound and bursting out of the water to latch onto Aurora's torso.
She moves with her reactions, not her mind. A jerk away manages to dislodge her from the loose grip that the beast had on her, and she tumbles down, rolling onto the floor. Before her mind can catch up, the the hellish beast advances for another strike.
It is known as a serpentine. They are aquatic animals, meaning they live underwater, but can venture out onto the land's edge should they wish to. As it does so now, Aurora catches a glimpse of its powerful, snake-like body, framed with fins for swimming underwater, and teeth that look like a hundred small knives crammed into its jaws. The emerald-green scales shimmer and flash as its teeth sink into her again.
Some sounds in this world are painful to listen to, like the scratching of nails against a blackboard or the sobbing of a person in grief.
Aurora's scream of pain is one of those stomach-wrenching sounds. It tears itself from her lips as she feels the teeth cut through her skin as if it were tissue paper. Her hands fumble in the dirt around her with crazed desperation, trying to pull away from the beast. Tears spring from her eyes as her face crumples.
It is attached to her, and she can't get away. In blind panic, she pounds its scaly back with her balled fists, channeling all her rage and pain into each blow. Nothing yields the creature. The pressure on her leg builds like it's being squashed as the serpentine tenses its jaws and tries to bite Aurora's limb off.
For a split second, the spears of agony are so powerful that her vision flashes white. It seems like the perfect moment to wave goodbye to her leg, and perhaps some more limbs too if she can't get away.
But another bolt of lightning strikes, and this time it is not the serpentine who is responsible for it. From above Aurora's head, something moves with the swiftness of a well-practiced assassin, grabbing onto the reptilian beast and yanking it away from the girl with brutish strength. She watches with her mouth hanging open in stunned surprise as the serpentine is shaken around in the air by a giant, white-furred paw. The action is somewhat reminiscent of a baby shaking its rattle in petulant anger.
Then the snake-like creature is tossed back into the lake, breaking the ice with a terrible CRACK as it lands. Fault lines sprout from the place of impact, one of them even running all the way up to the bank where Aurora is sprawled. The girl stares as the serpentine slithers back under the ice in less than an instant.
She doesn't know whether to be relieved or terrified.
Or perhaps both.
Because as she tips her head backwards to see what creature the white paw belongs to, a deeply unsettling feeling of dread slithers through her.
She looks up into the coal-black eyes of her one true enemy. The master of the forest, the top of the food chain. The creature she has loathed and feared in equal measure since the day one of them tore her best friend away from her.
A Wildebeast.
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