Cassie crept away from the clearing, into the woods, quietly at first, careful of every twig, every rock. They hadn't seen her, didn't know that she was there. On some primitive level, Cassie knew that a single sound would alert the monsters to her presence, and so her movements were almost silent in the blackness of the forest. Only when she felt a safe distance away from the campfire at the castle ruins did she begin to run.
She was engulfed by darkness. Branches grabbed at her hair and snatched at her clothing, and still she ran, swallowing her screams. She had no idea which direction she ran. Her mind held only one thought, and that was to put distance between herself and what she had seen. Cassie ran until she collapsed to the floor of the forest, her breath coming in great gasps of air, a cramp gripping her side. Tears flooded her face, her mind replaying what she had seen at the campsite.
Roiling fur, growling, howls in the dim light of the campfire, Max at the center. Shadows emerging from the fallen stones of the ruined castle keep. Blood spurting, everywhere. Blood.
What just happened? Were they attacked by a pack of wolves? It was as if Cassie stood at the edge of a discovery her brain could not grasp. Did she really just leave her boyfriend Max to die? Why did she let ever him talk her into camping at a haunted ruin? Cassie hugged her knees to her chest, the firmness of the tree at her back reminding her of her reality.
A twig snapped.
The full moon burst out of the clouds, illuminating where Cassie sat. She stared at the shining eyes encircling her, moaning, as whatever hope of escape died.
"Cassie!" Max stepped into the clearing, flanked by a pair of enormous wolves. "Why did you run?"
It took her a long time to stop screaming after that.
This week's prompt is the third definition of the word GRASP.
It inspired my imagination and I hope it inspires yours this week. Here are two pictures to get you started.