Chapter 2 The Escape

Observing the convergence of their band and subsequently witnessing their victor's penitent parade around their vanquished foes, he seized the chance to escape. Swiftly maneuvering out of his hidden position and sprinting towards the cluster of foliage, he heard the shouts of amazement and the profanities uttered by the mortal beings upon realizing their mistake.

The piercing crack of a supersonic bullet whizzed past his head just as he approached the hill's peak. Momentarily thinking he had evaded their line of sight, a stinging, intense torment surged through his side as the second bullet struck its mark.

Damien's left lung immediately filled with blood, rendering it almost impossible for him to inhale. Nevertheless, propelled by adrenaline and the impetus of his speedy pace, he pushed on, conquering the summit of the hill.

Blood spilled from his nostrils as he continued to run, struggling to remain upright, resolute in reaching the refuge of the greenery. Suddenly, another gunshot reverberated as he passed the initial evergreen, causing the bark to burst in his face and momentarily blinding him in his right eye. The agony he felt was almost unbearable, yet he couldn't catch his breath to yelp, focusing solely on his dogged progression.

For an additional minute, Damien persisted in running before being forced to decelerate. Gradually diminishing adrenaline was replaced by heightened agony in his side. Vomiting a considerable amount of blood from his wounded lung, he stopped. Glancing warily behind him, he confirmed that the mortals had abandoned their chase.

Carefully listening for any indications of approaching footsteps or, worse yet, the start of engine noises, he tried to turn his gaze backward, but his vision remained obstructed by the blood still flooding his right eye.

Assured that he remained unchased, he changed his direction, making his way towards the vicinity of a creek located approximately a mile away.

Upon reaching the creek, his body was overcome with exhaustion. Despite his attempts, his left lung continued to seep blood, forcing him to continuously cough it up. Slowly easing himself into the icy water, the shock of its coldness helped to clear his mind, snapping him back to reality amidst the throbbing agony. As the water flushed out his wounds, he noticed that his right eye was still clouded.

Turning his head with caution, his gaze fell upon the wound on his side. Three broken ribs jutted out from the deep gash, the flesh and muscle ripped apart by the force of a hollow point rifle bullet. "This is bad," he thought to himself, finally understanding why he couldn't stop the bleeding.

Gently lowering his snout to the water, he took small sips to ease his parched throat. With his depleted stomach, he knew he needed to replenish the lost fluids soon. After quenching his thirst, he emerged from the creek and glanced at the path he had taken, marked by his bleeding wounds.

Time was running out, he needed to move before the humans caught up to him. Staring at the creek once more, he knew he couldn't stay for long, as the cold water would sap his strength.

Struggling through the water, Damien walked for about half a mile before reaching the other side. The freezing temperature and the distance he had traveled would deter the humans from crossing the creek. His blood still leaving a trail, he made his way into the forest, heading towards the Front Range.

Keeping the valley between the two peaks as his guide, he fought the urge to rest, knowing he needed to put as much distance as possible between him and the guns.

In the blink of an eye, he plunged into a state of trance, mechanically moving one paw after another, gazing into the depths of the valley.

When he finally reached the valley as evening fell, he knew that he had not been followed. The sounds of the woodland were familiar. Glancing at the gash in his side, he could still detect a slow trickle of blood, indicating that his wounds were slowly healing. The frequency of his coughing had decreased, a sign that his insides were starting to mend. However, his right eye remained unresponsive, the constant throbbing pain a reminder of his injury.

The non-functioning eye greatly affected his depth perception, causing him to stumble into trees during his journey. He was aware that as the sun went down and the light faded, his depth perception would only worsen. Still, he pressed on. The further he delved into the woods, the more secure he felt.

It was after walking another five miles that he heard movement to his left. Something larger than a rabbit was lurking in these woods. The wind had died down, making it impossible to smell any potential danger. Pausing, he strained to hear any other clues. Then, the sound of liquid hitting pine needles emanated from a nearby thicket. Damien turned his head towards the source of the sound, only to hear more rustling as a figure emerged from the brush.

A tall woman, her head still bowed as she buttoned her pants, stepped out into the open.

As she took another step, their eyes met. She froze, her hands held out in front of her, about ten feet away from Damien.

The scent of her terror hit him like a slap in the face. The urge to pounce and rip her apart surged through him. In his mind, fear equalled food. However, he was in no condition to launch an attack. Any sudden movements would likely reopen his wound, and he wasn't certain he could withstand the blood loss before any food reached his stomach.