Waves

It’s almost dark. The sun starts its final decent over the horizon as I sit waiting for the waves to start. I know the waves will come soon.  As I sit, I smell the grass beneath my feet, freshly trampled by my clumsy walk. The damp log I sit on is rotting away as I wait. It’s coming. I hear the movement of the insects through the crevasses of the weak wood, tearing it apart and feeding on its lifeless corpse. The first wave of pain comes, slow at first. I can now hear the river a mile north with the spring snow run-off bursting at its banks. The crisp fresh scent of the forest passing along as the water flows downstream. Another wave comes, stronger, deeper. I scream as the pain peeks and the wave passes. I can hear the road 5 miles south now, with the stench of exhaust filling the forest. I can smell the death and decay of the forest near the road. The wave of pain rushes over me again, gaining in strength with each passing. Near a small rabbit senses my presence and I feel its fear as it hops away furiously. Again, the pain washes over me, my screams changing to groans and I can no longer hold myself up on the frail log. On the ground now, I feel the wet grass and earth against my skin. I hear the trample of a fawn deep in the forest. Again the pain peaks and my body twist. As each wave washes over me, I hear and sense everything around me, the world coming into focus. They come quickly now, with little reprieve between. As each wave it intensifies, my body echoes with painful aftershocks from the previous assault. No time between now, each wave crashes into the next.  It will be over soon. For a moment I smell something unnatural, moving through the forest. Quiet, barely there. It smells of death. The groans become a growl as the final waves pass over me, slowly.  The pain is retreating, my body slowly coming back from the depths of the waves. Death moves towards the smell of fire and the sounds of voices. West. They won't hear it coming. It moves with such stealth, but the vile stench stings my senses. Arching my body as the last bit of pain passes through me, I bring my form upright. I smell blood now, fresh. I am running west before I realize it. Towards death and the smell of blood I move quickly. I am not quiet, rushing through the forest. With branches breaking and my breath loud, I release the last bit of tension from the waves into a loud vocalization.  It hears me and flees. I am not after it; the smell of blood is strong now.  My consciousness’s fades as the trees pass and the smell grows stronger. The beast is in control now, I will lose all else until morning. All that is left is the smell and the hunger.