When being alone at night, anything can be startling. Something minor, like the tree tops swinging from bursts of chilly winds, can be enough. Or the dim light from the moon creating quite an eerie shadow orchestra when passing by the branches. Here though, thanks to the snow covering nearly every surface, even the smallest bits of light are enough to find the way forward.
Despite how well one might see their way ahead, they will not be safe from what falls from above. Rain on its own is not all that harmful, but when walking around the early springtime, they'll likely get soaked from both below and above. Especially if the decision was made to travel through a forest, unfortunately for some, that might have been the only choice they had.
Normally, in situations like these, people would seek some sort of shelter with a roof. For a very unfortunate reason, though, there is one in this quiet forest that would rather press himself against a tree. Although he's certainly hiding from something, his threat, however, does not come from above, instead, it slowly stalks him from a distance, on the same ground that he walks himself.
While he may be quivering like a weak branch in a hurricane, his mind has completely forgotten about the cold or his soaking clothes. What an unfortunate creature he is, but this is a predicament of his own making; all of this was to be expected - none of it, however, was desired. Just as he knew this was going to happen, he knows how this will inevitably end.
Humans are funny little creatures, though, despite their knowledge of their certain destiny of death, they keep on fighting against it.
Lose your weapon? Lose your fingernails? Lose your teeth? Stab, scratch, and bite with your eyes instead. Remove those? Well, you still have your tongue. No? Then curse them with your mind, your soul, with your entire being! You might die. In fact, you probably will. But what do you have to lose if your life is already in someone else's hands? If honour or self-respect is on your mind. Well. Let's just say that your last thoughts will only be regrets about how you could have done more. For some reason, you decided to give in.
Fight for yourself already.
Here, a coward and a pathetic man hides behind a tree, treating it like his temporary fortress. He no longer thinks he can fight, not a single one of his thoughts wants to even visit the idea of fighting his hunter. There's really only one place that anyone could go in this particular situation, and that's to the edge of the cliff with a mindset to leap. In order to be able to survive, that's most likely the only action that will work. Question is, can he make it in time?
"Gareth.", a lone voice calmly echoes through the frosty air, "I don't exactly want to do this either, so let's just make this quick, 'kay?"
Hearing that voice speak to him made the quivering man fully realise how real this situation was, and as the reality came, his strength faded. Momentary mistake as it was, it didn't matter; his grip loosened on the bark of the tree. Being fully aware that his position was clearly revealed, he couldn't help but dash away for his survival.
"Oh! Well, there you are!", an excited melody came from the hunter about 30 steps away.
It was most likely intended to be something along the lines of pleas for help or forgiveness, but all that could be heard was miserable desperation.
"Man...", disappointed, sighs the hunter, "This is just sad."
There is no amusement in the predator's eyes, only something resembling pity. Both sides know exactly how this will go, even if one of them does the best to deny and fight against fate.
Today is the end of Gareth's story.
Only hope pushing the poor prey forward, the chased eyes slightly brighten up as the clearing nears him. Just one jump, that's all he'll need to do when he reaches the edge. It's so simple, absolutely nothing compared to fighting that monster. Just don't fall. Just don't slip. Don't trip, and everything will be fine. You'll be just fine, Gareth.
Surely, something like that is shooting through his hope-filled mind.
He should have known better.
At the moment of his emergence into the clearing, a blood-curdling scream explodes from the fleeting man's lungs. A painfully sharp knife landed right into his left thigh. The pain and his momentum threw him directly into the mud puddle that had recently formed. Quite an unfortunate sight indeed. Luck has nothing to do with his capture, but the matter of the mud is something else entirely.
Mere 20 steps away complains the dagger thrower, "Damn, the fucking mud is insulting."
Ignoring the hint of an apology, yelps the wounded man, "Fuck...no...I was so close..."
Slowly approaching coldly, the predator states, "This is it, Gareth. No more running."
With tears and mud in his eyes, Gareth looks up and begs, "Please listen... he's a liar, he has lie--"
Almost next to the prey, the hunter growls, "Seriously, Gareth, this is pathetic."
Stuttering at his words and finding difficulty breathing, the begging man ponders what to say to stop this, "I... I can explai--"
"Gareth.", the executioner towers over his prey, "Even if you were telling the truth, I wouldn't listen."
"Scythe isn--", a cold blade cuts the last thoughts coming from the pleading vocal cords.
Told by himself. Told by the murderer. Didn't listen till the very end. Didn't believe till the very end.
This is where it led him, staring at his own body from far away while his cheek is firmly pressed against the snow.
Next to his body stands the one with the bloodied blade. He doesn't hear it, but he sees the man sigh.