The Boy and the Bloodfiend
It came to pass that one evening, a child took to walking among the trees a short way from his family’s modest home outside the village. He rarely strayed far, as his parents warned him of sinister things that would hunt him in the dark. On this night, however, his pleasant mood gave way to forgetfulness and he wandered farther than usual.
The trees thickened as he tottered along, and soon the gnarled canopy over his head blotted the dying gasps of red light from the sun. When the child awoke from his reverie to at last discover his mistake, he paused and glanced quickly around him. Worry seeped into his heart as he studied his surroundings and failed to recognize any of it.
He chose a direction and began walking hurriedly, but it soon became clear that his choice had been the wrong one. Quicker than seemed possible, full-on dark was upon the forest. However, the child possessed very good night vision, and enough moonlight filtered through the ominous overgrowth that he could at least distinguish one shadow from another as he padded onward.
He felt eyes on him and prayed it was only the mundane lurkings of nearby forest animals striking a match to ignite his imagination.
Fear crept under the child’s skin as he recalled the warnings his mother had thought sufficiently planted in his mind to preclude such wandering as he had done this night, quickening his step and his pulse alike. He began to wish indeed that there was no moonlight, for what little there was turned trees that might look innocent enough in bright light into brooding, grotesque figures with snarled fingers that grasped for his throat.
Suddenly he twisted around. Behind him. That sense that he was being watched was coming from behind. He remained as still as his trembling hands would allow, but heard nothing except the light breeze rustling the unseen foliage above.
An hour passed, then two, as the child nervously trotted along trying to find something…anything familiar. All that while, the sensation of a malevolent gaze fixed upon the back of his neck bloomed hotter in his mind. He knew he was being hunted, but he pressed on, fighting off the panic that would send him flying blindly through the woods and finish him forever.
In this way he arrived at a clearing across which the bloated moon shone brightly from its perch just above the horizon, glazing in silver the grass rippling in the gentle midnight breeze. Near the center of the clearing was a rotting tree stump. He knew that no protection lay here from whatever preyed on him, but as a place to die it was as good as any.
He sprinted for the stump and crouched beneath it, gazing wide-eyed at the spot where he had emerged from the forest. He waited, teeth clenched to prevent their chatter from betraying him.
Presently he felt his pursuer lurking at the edge of the clearing, watching him from somewhere beneath the twisted roof of the forest. Time slowed to allow the child a full soak in the horrible uncertainty as his eyes nervously scanned the tree line for the apparition that gazed hungrily back. Finally, the boy’s breath caught in his throat as he spotted a shape moving across the clearing toward where he sat. It came from the spot where he himself had emerged from the forest.
The shape seemed that of a man, though it was ghostly and pale in the moonlight, and its hunched form moved gracefully, turning no earth or leaf in its path and uttering not a sound. The child’s little heart tried to beat its way out of his chest, but he swallowed and bit his lip. When the apparition reached a spot about halfway across the clearing he called to it.
“S-Stop and identify yourself, you!”
The shape halted, and remained motionless. As the child shrank away from it, pressing his back into the rough slab of dead wood under which he cowered, the moonlight limned the figure and revealed a tattoo of intertwining claws snaking down the left side of its neck.
A full minute passed without a sound. At length there was a reply, in a low earthy voice. “I have come for your life, little one. Give yourself over to me.”
“You might get me, but my mother and father will come looking for me and they’ll catch you!” cried the child.
“Let them come, and they too can be my prey!” the figure hissed through teeth exposed in a wide grin which suggested that indeed the creature would savor no opportunity more.
“If you are going to kill me, would you grant me one desire? Allow me a final meal here in the forest, that I might not die hungry?”
The shape reared upward and roared, “No! No more delays! Prepare to die, little one!” As it lunged for his neck, the child threw himself forward in one valiant attempt to defend himself.
The next morning, the village was abuzz with news of the death of the boy who had ventured out alone into the forest the previous night.
“Damn fool boy,” the village men muttered, and shook their heads regretfully.
As the hunter who had discovered the lifeless remains in the clearing entered the village square, curious and saddened villagers gathered around to verify the news for themselves. Cradled in the large man’s arms was the still form of the boy. Two fang-marks - abnormally small and close together - pierced the boy’s cooling flesh right where the tattooed Mark of the Bloodfiend Hunters snaked its way down the left side of his neck. The bloodfiend who had killed him and supped in the savage moonlight had been a young one indeed.
