An Unwelcome Guest

Ezra gritted his teeth, his chest heaving as he refocused. The creature's movements were slowing, but it was still dangerous—every swipe of its talons and every snap of its jaws carried lethal intent.

He adjusted his grip on the dagger, his lavender eyes narrowing as he searched for another opening.

'Calm. Steady. Don't force it.'

The creature roared again, its massive head snapping toward Shirley, who nimbly danced backward, just out of reach. Ezra's sharp eyes caught a fleeting opening—the beast's wounded shoulder dipped, exposing a vulnerable patch near its neck.

Ezra tensed, ready to strike—but then the creature froze.

Its elongated ears twitched, swiveling slightly as if catching a sound far beyond Ezra's hearing. Its glowing yellow eyes lifted, staring into the distance with an unsettling stillness. Slowly, almost cautiously, the creature began to back away, its claws scraping faintly against the stone.

It wasn't running—it was retreating. And it wasn't because of them.

Ezra's grip on his dagger tightened as confusion flickered across his pale face. The creature, moments ago a raging force of violence, now seemed… hesitant. Fearful, even.

"What… is it doing?" Ezra muttered under his breath, his lavender eyes narrowing.

Shirley stayed silent, his steel-gray gaze locked on the beast, his stance tense and ready.

Then Ezra felt it—a shift in the air.

The atmosphere grew impossibly still, suffocating in its silence. The faint rustle of leaves ceased, and even the distant chirp of crickets vanished entirely. The air felt heavier, colder, as though the entire forest had drawn a collective breath and was holding it.

The wind shifted, blowing from a direction it hadn't before, carrying with it an unfamiliar scent—sharp, metallic, and wrong.

Ezra's skin prickled, a chill running down his spine as he glanced around. The creature was still backing away, its head low, ears pinned back, glowing eyes flicking nervously between the distant treeline and the two humans in front of it.

"What's going on?" Ezra asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Shirley's voice came low and steady, but edged with something rare for him—unease.

"Something bigger's coming."

The weight of those words hung heavy in the frozen air.

Ezra swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His instincts screamed at him to move, to run, to do something, but he was rooted in place by the oppressive stillness around them.

The ground began to tremble, faint vibrations skittering up through Ezra's boots and into his bones. Whatever had scared off the creature was no longer distant—it was approaching, and fast.

The air itself felt charged, heavy with an oppressive weight that pressed down on his chest.

Shirley's sharp voice cut through the eerie silence like a whip crack.

"Ezra! Move now!"

Ezra didn't need to be told twice. He spun on his heel, his dagger still clutched tightly in his hand as he sprinted after Shirley. The older man was already several paces ahead, weaving through the uneven terrain with practiced precision.

They darted toward a patch of tall grass, its golden blades swaying faintly in the unnatural breeze. Ezra's heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline flooding his veins as he pushed his tired legs to move faster.

Behind them, the vibrations intensified. The faint sound of distant footsteps—heavy, deliberate, and impossibly large—thudded through the earth. Each step sent shockwaves that rattled Ezra's teeth.

He risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn't. Shadows danced along the treeline, twisting and stretching unnaturally in the dim light. Something massive loomed just beyond sight, obscured by the thick wall of trees, its presence more felt than seen.

Ezra's breath came in sharp gasps as he pushed forward, his fingers brushing against the tall grass as they entered the thicket. Shirley dropped low, flattening himself against the earth, and gestured sharply for Ezra to do the same.

"Down!" Shirley hissed.

Ezra followed without hesitation, dropping to his stomach as he pressed himself into the damp soil. His pulse pounded in his ears, loud enough to drown out everything else except the approaching thud, thud, thud.

Through the gaps in the grass, Ezra could see the faint silhouette of something enormous shifting in the distance. Trees groaned and cracked under its weight, and a faint, guttural growl rumbled through the still night air.

Neither of them dared to breathe.

The presence grew closer, its oppressive aura blanketing the field like a smothering fog. Ezra clenched his jaw, his knuckles white around the hilt of his dagger. Beside him, Shirley remained deathly still, his steel-gray eyes locked on the distant silhouette.

For what felt like hours, the creature lingered on the edge of the clearing. Its heavy breathing echoed faintly, each exhale accompanied by a low, wheezing growl. The vibrations in the ground slowly began to fade, and the suffocating pressure in the air began to ease.

After what felt like an eternity, the presence began to retreat, its heavy steps growing fainter with each passing second until the oppressive silence of the night returned.

Ezra finally let out the breath he'd been holding, his entire body trembling from the strain. He turned his head slightly toward Shirley, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What… what was that?" Ezra whispered, his voice barely carrying over the faint rustle of the tall grass.

Shirley didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on the distant treeline, his expression hard and unreadable, jaw set in grim determination. The faint light caught the sharp lines of his face, making him look older, wearier.

"This just makes things more troublesome," he said finally, his voice low, almost bitter.

Ezra swallowed hard, his breath visible in the cold night air. The oppressive weight that had settled earlier still lingered faintly in his chest, like a bruise that refused to fade.

They stayed there for what felt like hours, unmoving and silent, hidden in the tall grass. Shirley's reasoning was clear—better to wait it out, to be sure the monstrous presence was truly gone before making another move. But time stretched painfully, and it wasn't long before doubt began to creep into Ezra's mind.

The cold crept in next, biting at exposed skin and seeping into his bones. His fingers trembled slightly as he tucked his arms closer to his chest, trying to conserve what little warmth he had left.

"Shirley…" Ezra muttered, but the older man silenced him with a sharp glance.

The night stretched on, suffocating in its stillness. The breeze had died, leaving the tall grass eerily motionless. The usual symphony of nighttime sounds—crickets, distant bird calls, the rustling of leaves—had vanished entirely.

Ezra's stomach twisted with unease. It felt wrong. Too quiet.

Then he heard it.

A low, distant thud.