She could hear the beast as it slowly, hungrily, crept up on her. She could not move nor speak, else she would surely have run and cried out for help. It was hungrier than a starving lion and a hundred times more savage. She wasn't even sure what it was, only that it wanted to kill her. It breathed loudly and hoarsely, as though it had a cold and found it necessary to breathe through its mouth rather than its nose. She knew the answer was much simpler than that, however. It was tasting the rich, coppery scent of her blood, the blood that was pouring from a wound on her leg. Perhaps that was why she could not run. Slumped against a boulder, with tears rinning down her face, she continued to listen to the beast's approach. She was so scared, terrified was not the word for it. She had no recollection of how she got there, or why. The wound was a mystery to her, but it was there nonetheless. She did not know the beast's appearance, bit knew that it was playing with her like a cat with a mouse, knew just as the monster did that it could play as long as it wished to, she wasn't going to be going anywhere anytime soon. Finally, she got the impression it was done playing with her. It hungry growling grew deeper, louder and much more savage. She closed her eyes tight, whimpering, and listened to it crawl round in front of her. She felt its hot breath on her fave, heard it roar deafeningly and- She woke up, gasping, crying, terrified, but safe and alive. \"Damn nightmares,\" She whispered to the darkness.
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