Silence and darkness—that was all she experienced in her slumber. Then, slowly, sunlight shone on her closed lids. World itself was strangely different, abit too warm to be the orphanage.
Had the sun always been this radiant?
Aithne's eyes slowly widened as her senses composed herself.
But all that surrounded her was the beautiful, endless roof of cerulean sky and an emerald sea of grass. The wind was gentle, as if to welcome her. In the middle of that sky floated a blinding golden ball of warmth. It was nothing alike compared to her hometown. The safety was far too unfamiliar everything was so warm and comfortable.
In the safety of her peaceful surroundings her mind pondered to her altered fate.
Aithne had been chosen. It was all hard to process, really.
Is my frail and vulnerable life really going to end? Was I to finally get a taste of so—called chocolate Mother so elaborately described? Maybe I wouldn't even have to live in the church orphanage! Oh, the delight...
The daydreams didn't last long. A faint sound came from not too far. Some kind of sniffing — almost certainly not human — worst still, it was close, too close.
Taking shelter behind a tree, she held her breath, closed her eyes, and listened closely.
The sound of sniffing came closer and closer yet the intensity didnt change — it must be alone, nor did the beast make any sound when it closed the distance — it couldn't be too big either.
Time was ticking. Aithne didnt move, yet the beast was trailing her scent. It was slow but almost certainly lethal—a certain doom.
The beast was slow yet not a single sound was made from the beast's slow trail — whatever beast it was, it must be an experienced hunter.
Still the beast itself didn't detect any movement behind the tree. Carefully creeping right behind the tree, the beast's long fangs poked out even with its mouth fully closed. Cold saliva dripping from its fangs, the beast reached for her with it's pointy snout — but didn't feel flesh it was craving, only fabric.
Aithne had gauged the beast's weakness before it had arrived.
So she took off her old fabric — for lack of a better word — and had left it gently on the grass.
The fabric she wore, unchanged for years could not hide the pungent scent stuck to it.
That damn beast wasn't the only one who knew how to walk silently — better yet climb a tree soundlessly.
If its so ferocious, such a great hunter, why was it creeping up on her? A beast relying on its sense of smell to hunt, even when the prey was so close to her meant one thing. It was blind.
Silently staring at the confused beast below, she finally took a good look at the hunter trailing her.
Its eyelids were closed tight and covered in a bloody gash, clearly something or some dare devil gouged it's eyes out.
Blindness must be a recent too, since hunter of such skill was desperate enough to trail a smell like hers—not to say she stinks, since, well... obviously she takes a bath every so often after all.
The beast's brown fur blended cleanly into the tree — it must be a native of this land, not something taken here like herself.
It was small in figure, but it's short claws were sharp. Although silent, the grass it stepped on was cut without resistance.
Aithne looked at the ferocious hunter below her, but the forest didnt just have one hunter — it had two.
For a beast so hungry, you sure are portly aren't you? The judgement stayed silent in her mind.