Hiding Place

Written for the "Scream" Contest, Week of August 20th, 2017 for the "The North Remembers" 
Winner for the "Scream" Contest, Round 6, Week 1

***********

Word Count: 446



He ran. His pulse pounded. His hot breath turned to steam on the cold winter air. Twilight was about gone, but the moon wasn't in the sky yet. Only dim light from the far away stars lit the path in front of him.

The direwolf howled. Close. His heart beat spiked. He needed to find a hiding place, but direwolves were known for their powerful noses. They could scent out a person - or fear.

Trees loomed ahead. Dead branches shook in the wind. Granite rocks were just past the trees. He knew those rocks. They were carved from long ago glaciers, and at awkward angles against each other. The rocks just might provide a small enough space to hide.

Dead leaves crunching under paws grew louder.

He drew in deep, hurried breaths. Could he make it to the rocks?

Twilight vanished. The temperature dropped. Darkness washed over barren tree limbs. He entered the woods.

Again, the direwolf howled. Birds cawed above him. Bats flapped their wings, skimming above his head.

He almost shit his pants. He needed to hide - and not just his body, his scent. But how? His mind ached for a solution.

Cold air stung his cheeks. His lungs threatened to explode. He couldn't make it to the rocks. He needed to hide now.

Something grunted. He tripped over a log and came crashing down. His face slid along loose rocks and gravel. Warm blood splayed across his cheeks and lips.

He looked up. A boar snorted. Fangs extended past the foul beast's mouth.

"Gods!" he exclaimed.

The boar roared forward. He rolled left. The pig collided with the direwolf and let out a squeal.

He scampered to his feet and rushed forward. The rocks. He had to get to the rocks. The bats clicked. The noise practically shattered his ear drums.

The direwolf barked.

The boar had to be dead. It bought Bronn time, but would it be enough? He plowed forward.

The rocks grew closer. He ran between trees and jumped over dead logs. Sweat poured down his brow.

Closer. Louder. Howls. Almost there. Adrenaline fueled his legs.

The direwolf pounced.

Bronn fell face first in the dirt. He reached for anything and grabbed a small rock, smashing against the side of the direwolf's head. Blood splattered from the beast's ear. The beast stood, stunned.

Bronn scampered backwards. A cold draft of air rushed past him. His lungs ached. The granite rocks were mere feet from him.

The direwolf shook his head. Blood went flying, splattering all over Bronn's clothes.

The bats rushed past him. Bronn dived for a small crevice between two rocks, squeezing in the opening.

The direwolf lunged forward. Bronn screamed.