I was really concentrating, you know, completely focused on the map, trying to navigate this really narrow forest path. My next destination was still a good distance away, and I was determined to get there before it got too late. The sun was still fairly high when I started, so I wasn't too worried about the time.
Then, out of nowhere, a crisp, dry leaf fluttered down and landed right on my head. It was a small thing, but it startled me a bit. I instinctively reached up to brush it away, and as my hand went up, my gaze lifted with it. That's when I saw it: the sky was ablaze with a deep, burning orange, streaks of fiery red blending into hues of soft purple, and already, dark, bruised-looking clouds were starting to gather on the horizon. It was the unmistakable sign of sunset.
A chill went through me that had nothing to do with the cooling air. A sudden, cold realization washed over me – it was already evening. The light was fading fast, and it would be completely dark within the hour. The thought of continuing my journey through this dense forest, on this barely-there path, in complete darkness... well, it was terrifying. I'm just a young girl, and the idea of being out here alone at night, with all the strange sounds and shadows the forest holds, was far too dangerous. It was clear: traveling at night was simply not an option. My priority shifted immediately. I had to find a safe place to camp for the night, and I had to do it fast, before the last vestiges of daylight disappeared completely.
I left the narrow path and ventured into the forest, hoping to find a suitable place to rest for the night. Each step crunched on broken branches and old, fallen leaves, while the tall trees above cast long, cascading shadows in the evening light. My immediate concern was finding somewhere safe to stay.
A chilling thought then crossed my mind: this was the world of my novel, a world I had personally brought to life, complete with its monsters. I, as their creator, knew everything about them – their habits, their weaknesses, their sheer brutality. Yet, despite this knowledge, I had no confidence that I could survive an encounter with one. They would simply attack, just as any other monster would.
A wave of regret washed over me. Perhaps entering this forest was a terrible mistake, one that could very well lead to my untimely death. But there was no turning back now; I had already left the path and plunged into the trees. My focus had to be on survival. I needed to find a safe spot – a stream of water, an empty cave, or anything that offered some shelter. While caves are often occupied by wildlife, I knew I didn't have many other options at this point.
I searched as far as I could see into the forest, but the dense trees and bushes, combined with the rapidly approaching darkness, made finding a suitable spot incredibly difficult. None of the places I had envisioned – a gentle stream or an empty cave – appeared. As the night began to truly envelop the forest, visibility became increasingly poor, with the remaining glow of the sunset being my only source of light.
Realizing I couldn't afford to wait any longer, I decided to make a campfire in the wilderness before it became completely dark. I worked quickly, gathering twigs, dry leaves, and small dry branches, piling them into a conical shape. Then, I took two rocks and began striking them together, hoping to create a spark that would ignite the dry tinder. Thankfully, after several attempts, I managed to get a flame just as the last vestiges of daylight vanished.
It was only then, as the small fire began to crackle and grow, that I remembered a crucial detail: I was completely out of water. Finding a water source would have to be my top priority in the morning. For now, however, all my efforts were focused on keeping this fire alive.
As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, complete darkness settled over the forest. The stars emerged, filling the sky, made even more brilliant by the moonless night. I sat huddled by my small, self-made campfire, its warmth fluctuating with the cold, restless winds that swept through the trees.
My thoughts, as they often did in moments of quiet solitude, drifted back to my past life. I remembered a starkly different existence, one spent almost entirely indoors, either in my home or apartment. My outings were rare, usually limited to necessary errands like buying groceries or searching for inexpensive items to adorn my living space. I was never an explorer, nor an outdoor enthusiast; I was, by all accounts, an introvert who found solace and comfort within the confines of my own room.
It felt surreal, almost unbelievable, to be in this new reality. Here I was, camping alone in the middle of a dense forest at night. If anyone from my previous life had told me this would happen, I would have dismissed it as an absurd fantasy. Now, I found myself questioning everything I once believed about myself and my capabilities.
My introspection was abruptly shattered by a sound from the forest behind me. A smooth rustle of dry leaves broke the silence, distinct and unmistakable. In the impenetrable darkness, I couldn't discern what caused it, but the sound itself suggested something large had moved. My mind immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario: one of the monsters I had so carefully crafted into existence in my novel. The best case, a fleeting hope, was that it was merely my imagination playing tricks on me, or perhaps a large, harmless animal. I couldn't risk it.
Acting on instinct, I swiftly grabbed a burning stick from the campfire, its tip glowing a fiery orange. I clutched it tightly, holding it close, ready to either wield it as a makeshift weapon or use its light and flame as a deterrent. My heart pounded against my ribs, a stark contrast to the quiet of the night, as I waited, listening intently for any further sign of what lurked in the shadows.
Then, the rustling sound intensified, no longer coming from a single direction but seemingly all around me. A cold dread settled in, making me wonder if there was more than one creature lurking in the darkness. However, as I listened more intently, I realized the sound was in fact coming from one direction at a time, suggesting that a single creature was deliberately circling my campsite.
My mind raced. Was it merely stalking me? Or had I simply intruded upon its territory? The most terrifying thought was that it was methodically circling to find the perfect moment and angle to launch an attack, to pounce on me at any sudden movement I might make. My grip on the burning stick tightened, my knuckles white.
But instead of striking, the creature began to climb a nearby tree. I could hear the distinct sounds of it ascending, then settling onto a thick branch. Slowly, cautiously, a head emerged from the shadows and into the flickering light of my campfire. What I saw in that dim glow nearly stopped my heart.
It was, unmistakably, the head of an owl. Yet, this was no ordinary owl; it was giant, far larger than any barn owl I had ever seen. Its ears were hidden beneath tufts of fur, and its most striking feature was its two void-black eyes – eyes that reflected no light, seeming instead to pierce directly into one's soul. Below them was a sharp, hooked beak, and its face was covered in a dense layer of fur. There was no doubt in my mind. It was a Noctowyrm.
Without a moment's hesitation, I bolted from the campfire and plunged into the absolute darkness of the forest. Leaves, branches, and bushes whipped at my face and body, scratching and brushing against me, but I ignored the stinging as I ran.
Behind me, the Noctowyrm had pulled its imposing head back into the tree's shadows. Then, a chilling sound ripped through the night: a low-pitched groan, a guttural blend of a bear's growl and a large cat's rumble, emanating from the very tree it occupied. Immediately after, I heard the distinct sound of it leaping from one tree to another, the impacts echoing through the darkness. It was closing in on me, fast.
As I ran desperately, not daring to look back or even watch where my feet landed in the pitch black, a thought flashed through my mind. Perhaps the earlier sound it made wasn't an immediate threat, but rather a territorial warning or a sign of frustration at being disturbed. My desperate hope was to simply run far enough to escape its territory, believing that if I could just get out of its perceived domain, I might survive the night.
But then, a crushing realization hit me: how incredibly stupid I had been. I had been so consumed with worry about the supernatural monsters I had created in my novel that I had completely forgotten about the very real, vicious animals that undoubtedly inhabited this forest. This was their home, their hunting ground, and I was nothing more than an intruder. I had to escape, and quickly. From what I remembered of my own writings about these creatures, they were extremely dangerous. I had to run faster, or I would surely become its next meal.
Running blindly, I couldn't discern my path in the oppressive darkness. Suddenly, my foot slipped, and I tumbled off a hidden ledge. The ground below was uneven, lined with twisted, gnarled trees that seemed even more menacing in the night, their forms absorbing the faint starlight. A sharp pain shot through my foot, but stopping was not an option; to do so would guarantee my demise. Despite the agony, I forced myself to my feet and continued to limp forward, pushing through the pain.
The deeper I ventured into the forest's inky blackness, the colder the air became, wrapping around me like a shroud. Though it was the dead of night, a profound sense of impending death settled over me. My hands, trembling from a mixture of fear and physical pain, gripped the tattered edges of my cloak. I was alone, truly and utterly alone in this terrifying expanse.
Each step felt impossibly heavy, like I was dragging my own lifeless body across the forest floor. I had no idea where I was going, and the creature, the Noctowyrm, remained an unseen threat. It could appear from anywhere at any moment – dropping from the treetops or suddenly materializing right beside me, perhaps toying with its prey before delivering the final blow.
My legs ached with protesting pain, my arms burned with exhaustion, and my chest tightened with raw horror. My heart hammered against my ribs, its frantic beat so loud I felt sure it could be heard echoing through the silent woods. Yet, I continued to stumble forward, enduring the immense physical and mental suffering. I had no choice; I had to survive this night, for myself.
Then, what I saw ahead seemed like an illusion born of my stressed mind, yet I desperately hoped it was real. There was a light in the distance, emanating from a cart pulled by horses, its path illuminated by torches mounted on the front. These were people, and my heart soared with a desperate surge of hope. All I had to do was reach them, and I would be safe. A silent prayer of thanks for this apparent coincidence escaped my lips.
Despite the throbbing pain in my injured foot, I pushed forward, stumbling towards the distant light. As I drew close enough, I gathered every ounce of my remaining strength and screamed "Help me!" at the top of my lungs. My cry instantly caught their attention. "Is anyone there?" one voice called back from the darkness. "Please, help me!" I shrieked in response, my voice raw with desperation. Finally, my message seemed to register, and a wave of relief washed over me. I was saved, or so I thought.
My desperate plea for help had indeed drawn their attention, but it had also, tragically, alerted the creature pursuing me. It pinpointed my location, and from the inky blackness of the trees behind me, the Noctowyrm launched itself. It landed with brutal force, pinning me to the ground with its large, sharp claws. A searing, agonizing pain ripped through my back as its talons sank deep into my flesh. The low, guttural sounds it began to emit filled me with an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and terror. I screamed at the top of my lungs, a raw sound of pure pain and horror. The pain was unnerving, unbearable; I felt like I couldn't endure another second.
Just as despair threatened to consume me, I saw figures rushing towards us. My rescuers! One of them, incredibly, used a whip to lasso the beast's neck, while another quickly prepared and threw an iron net over the creature. The individual with the whip then produced a crossbow and fired an arrow, striking the Noctowyrm. It let out a piercing, unearthly screech before its struggles ceased, and it fell into a sudden, unnatural sleep.
I was safe, for now. But the cost was immense. Not only was my foot still throbbing, but my back was now a source of intense, shearing pain, and I could feel blood rapidly seeping out. I knew that without immediate treatment, I would soon lose consciousness from blood loss. My injuries needed urgent attention.
As I lay there, dazed and stinging, one of the two men approached me. He seemed unbothered by my prone form or the blood seeping into the ground. I weakly reached out a hand, but he paid it no mind, simply stating to his companion, "Do your thing, or this one here might die of blood loss." Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, blackness encroached upon my vision, and I lost consciousness. The last thing I remembered was the other man kneeling beside me, reaching out his hands, and, for some inexplicable reason, focusing on my injuries.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the front of the cart belonging to my rescuers. The rhythmic sounds of the horses' hooves and the creak of the cart wheels over the uneven dirt road filled the air, and I could feel every bump and sway. To my immense surprise, as I sat up, I felt entirely normal. The throbbing pain in my foot and the searing agony in my back were completely gone. More astonishingly, the deep injury on my back from the beast's claws had vanished entirely, leaving no trace.
Beside me sat one of the two men who had saved me. I must have stared at him for a while, lost in thought, because he eventually turned to me and asked, "Is there something on my face?" I quickly averted my gaze. "Oh, I'm sorry," I mumbled, "My head must still be a bit foggy. And thank you for saving me back there."
He simply shrugged. "Don't mention it. We were actually out here hunting that creature anyway. If anything, I should be thanking you for bringing it out into the open for us to subdue so easily." He gestured towards the rear of the cart. "As you can see, this cart is actually a cage, and we were assigned to bring this thing back alive." I looked back, and sure enough, there it was: the beast, locked securely in a cage, seemingly fast asleep.
Now, with the full form of the creature visible in the daylight, every detail I had ever written about it came flooding back to me. The man continued, expressing his surprise that I had survived an encounter with what they called a Whispermaw in the dead of night. He was absolutely right; after all I had penned about it, my own survival felt like a miracle.
The Noctowyrm: A Recall
The Noctowyrm is a rare and eerie predator, dwelling deep within the untouched forest canopies where the moon's light seldom penetrates. From a distance, it appears like an enormous, furred phantom – its bear-like body hunched and hulking, yet it moves with an almost weightless grace.
Its head is undeniably that of an owl – round and emotionless, dominated by two void-black eyes that reflect no light and seem to pierce straight into the soul. Its sharp, hooked beak is capable of shearing through bone and chitin with terrifying ease. The rest of its body, while muscular like a bear's, is surprisingly lightweight due to hollow, avian bones, enabling it to climb and leap with ghostly silence.
The creature is covered in a thick, shaggy coat of dark, earthen fur, matted and coarse to the touch, providing excellent insulation and camouflage in its wild habitat. When it moves, it makes virtually no sound; its padded paws and unnaturally silent movement have earned it the chilling nickname "Whispermaw." That, at least, is what I distinctly remember writing about it in my novel.
After we had been traveling for a while, he turned to me and asked about my origins. He then revealed that both he and his companion were utterly astonished to find a young girl like me traversing such a dark and perilous forest in the dead of night. "The locals are well aware of that beast," he explained, "so they wouldn't dare venture into the forest, even during the day. So, what were you doing there in the middle of the night? Were you lost or something?" he inquired, his tone laced with genuine curiosity and concern.
"No, not exactly lost," I replied, my voice still a little hoarse. "I was actually trying to reach the town next to my village, but the journey took longer than expected, and it got dark. So I decided to camp out in the forest. And then, well, you know the rest—I was attacked by that creature you were trying to capture."
He let out a long, weary sigh. "Do your family know you were venturing out like that? Are they aware of what you were doing?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
My expression saddened, and I replied quietly, "All my family members are already dead."
He seemed visibly taken aback, falling silent for a moment before offering a heartfelt, "I'm so sorry for your loss." A fleeting thought crossed my mind—I had just told him a lie. But it felt justified; they weren't my actual family anyway.
Changing the subject, I then remembered my manners. "I'm sorry, but could you tell me your name? I'd really like to know the names of the people who saved me."
"Oh, I completely forgot about that!" he chuckled, a slight smile touching his lips. "My name is Carol, and the other one, who isn't here at the moment, is named Nemo." He then turned the question back to me. "What's your name, little lady?"
"My name is Aira," I responded. "Where is Nemo, by the way? I'd like to thank him myself."
Carol explained, "He's currently scouting ahead for us, just making sure we find the best and safest way to reach our destination."
"Where are you guys heading anyway?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.
"We're going to the same place you were trying to go," he said, a reassuring tone in his voice. "The town of Pineborrow. Just sit tight, and you'll reach your destination by the end of this day."
I was incredibly relieved to hear that I would finally reach my next destination safely, without any more trouble. After some time, the other man, Nemo, came riding up on his horse. He had completed his scouting; the road was clear, and we proceeded straight towards the town without any further delay.
I looked at him, intending to express my gratitude for saving me, but to my surprise, he didn't even glance in my direction. His indifference struck me as surprisingly arrogant, and I felt a prickle of annoyance. Carol, sensing my reaction, quickly intervened. "Nemo's a bit shy," he explained. "Don't take it to heart." However, I could easily distinguish between shyness and arrogance, and his behavior leaned heavily towards the latter.
Before I could continue our conversation, the beast in the back of the cart suddenly stirred, jolting me. Both men, however, remained completely unfazed, as if they had anticipated its awakening. It began to emit piercing screeching sounds, thrashing wildly within the surprisingly small confines of its cage. The entire cart began to shake violently under its struggle. Carol, without hesitation, fired an arrow from his crossbow. I could distinctly smell a peculiar liquid coating the arrow from where I sat. As it struck the creature, it immediately fell back into a deep sleep.
I then noticed that the beast had already been hit by at least seven arrows, not counting the one Carol had just fired or the initial one that had put it to sleep. This implied that it had been significantly weakened at least five times while I was unconscious. Carol muttered under his breath, "Damn it, why won't this thing just stay down? Just fall asleep and don't wake up until we reach the town." Nemo, his voice laced with worry, asked him, "So, how many tranquilizing arrows are left?"
"Four," Carol replied, his concern evident. "At this rate, if we don't reach town in time, we'll have to kill it, or it might escape—or worse, attack us after breaking free from that cage."
A thought struck me: these two either lacked experience or simply didn't know how to handle creatures like this. But they had saved my life, and I felt compelled to help them. "Do you have a blanket?" I asked, getting their attention. They looked at me quizzically. "Yes, but it's not time to sleep now," one replied.
"No, a blanket or a large cloth," I clarified. "You can use it to cover the cage. If you cover the beast's cage with cloth, it will think it's in a safe place. These creatures don't remain active during the daytime, so the sunlight must be hurting its sensitive eyes. If we make the cage dark, it will think it's in a cave and can sleep peacefully."
They exchanged a look, but to my relief, they followed my instructions. As soon as they covered the cage, the beast indeed remained calm and didn't stir again. They looked at me, astonished. "How did you know that would work?" one of them asked. I paused, fabricating an answer quickly. "My father told me about it," I said. Nemo seemed keen to ask more about my father, but Carol quickly cut him off, stopping him from prying further. As they continued their low-voiced argument, I silently thanked my lucky stars for thinking of such a plausible lie. The idea of covering the cage to calm the beast? I'd actually remembered it from a movie in my previous life where they did something similar to tranquilize animals. Thankfully, that random memory surfaced when I needed it most.