His Escape

The fur on his neck stood horizontal, his ears just high enough to be attentive to his surroundings, low enough to look as unsuspecting as possible. He took small steps, careful to lower his paws quietly on the muddy ground, every sound from him was echoing through the cave's narrow walls. There was only one way. One way out. The path to promised safety. Every time the canine's legs wanted to give in, slowing him down, he forced his body further.

It has been on his trail for ages now. At some point it had to give in. Let him in peace.

Safety must be right around the next corner, his personal haven.

Deep silence covered him, only the ever same sounding steps of his daring to break it.

The cave became a mere tunnel lit only by few remaining mushrooms, barely wider than his shoulders.

The canine whimpered as he cut open his shoulder on the rock's formations. Now his steps won't be the only trail left. Others would remember him as the one who made it. The one who was strong enough.

Behind him only the dim light which eventually deceased into pitch darkness. It didn't matter.

He squeezed his claws into the now heavily bleeding wound, he was still alive. Still haunted.

The surroundings barely fitted the werewolf, the movement confined by the tiny space left around him.

Blood was seeping through his fur, coloring his whole side into a deep red.

With a weak sigh he dropped on the knees, going head first into the narrow gap, feeling it scraping along his whole body. The fur fell behind him into the mud, it wasn't needed anymore anyway.

He knew he came close. Few meters more, in front of him only the ever narrowing opening, leading him deeper into his flee.

Nobody could reach him here, his personal ghost wouldn't be able to follow where he'd go now. He closed his eyes as he felt peace covering his scarred body for the first time in years.

He escaped. He reached safety.

His life would not follow him any further.