He lay there for a long time, his head buried beneath his brush-cut arms, listening, hoping, praying that they had gone.

Please let them be gone... please let it be a dream...

A cold wind rustled the branches of the pine trees overhead. Alex opened his eyes but kept his head down, not moving a muscle, barely breathing. Forever seemed to pass, twice. He shifted, not a lot, just enough so his eyes could see over the tops of his arms.

It was a glade, almost circular, with sparse brown grass poking through a bed of pine needles. Around the glade, the black outlines of tall pines, their tips swaying in the chill night breeze as they stood sentinel. Alex raised his head a little higher and shivered. His cotton t-shirt was soaked with sweat. He sat up and wrapped his arms around his crouched form, bringing his legs under his arms and messaging the goose pimpled flesh.

Christ, it's cold.

Then he remembered where he was. Quickly looking left, then right, his eyes scanned the shadows for the silent yellow lamps. They were gone. Alex let out an audible sight.

Then came the pain.

It shrieked out of nowhere, screaming into his side. The ground fell out from underneath him, the air rushing past his ears. Alex fell hard and heard the snap of bone, the jolt of shock and pain.

The howls rose around him.

The pain came again, slashing him across the face. Another jab under his stomach sent him flying, spinning, through the night. And when he landed, it was to the sound of his back snapping against the trunk of a tree.

He lay there, his body in tatters. Blood oozed from a slash on his forehead and dripped from his side and stomach, staining the dirt red. "P... please." It was barely a whimper. Alex opened his eyes again, his vision bleary from the blood running down his face. Around him, the yellow lamps blinked on and off. But one set stared. Then flew.

The shadow rushed across the moonlit glade, flying too fast to make out a shape. It struck, gripping Alex beneath the arms with claws that cut through his shirt and skin. He was lifted high. The claws slammed his broken back against the trunk of a tree. Then, four feet off the ground, he stared into the yellow eyes. Pupiless yellow orbs. Hot breath pelted his face, stinking of blood, of death... of lust. And then he saw the fangs.

They gleamed in to the moonlight. A flawless white. Sharp, long, the most evil things Alex had ever seen.

Alex and the shadow stared at each other. Blood seeped from his broken and torn body, little rivers of iron spilling down the bark, racing toward the ground. And still the shadow watched. It hurt so much. What had he done to deserve this? It wasn't fair. Why me? Then, the anger surfaced.

Alex reached out with his arms, ignoring the pain tearing through his back. He reached for the eyes and grasped at the air with his hands. His voice exploded into the night.

"I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! I'll kill you!"

His screams echoed in the glade. The howls rose to a fever pitch and drowned out his voice.

"I'LL KILL YOU!"

And the eyes smiled. They had found their victim.

Alex screamed and pulled back, his hands gripping nothing but night, his dangling feet pushing against the tree trunk. But the fangs dove, their three inch daggers burying into the soft flesh of the shoulder.

A scream of agony rose into the night, drowning out the howls.