The Expectation

2.

A small rodent scurried out the way of another collapsing pine tree. This was how Erin had been spending the last half hour of his trip to the woods - knocking over giant trees, letting them splinter as they fall to the ground.

There was something soothing in watching the ancient giants, bend and then eventually tip over, at the hands of his fury. It was invigorating. Most importantly, it was calming. His own, personal form of therapy.

Letting his fist fly into yet another tree, Erin could feel the anger and fear pour from the cuts on his knuckles, staining the bark along with his blood.

The snap of a twig somewhere nearby, had Erin's fist freezing in its track towards the millionth fatal blow. He tilted his head upwards, hoping to detect the scent of the intruder.

After having nothing, but the scent of fear from the forest animals, fly into his nostrils, he raised his fist - ready for the second round of, 'Chicken,' with the surrounding flora.

As the final blow sent the huge oak tree toppling down, the hairs on the back of his neck, stood on end. He was being watched.

Preparing himself for an attack, the all too familiar voice of an unexpected visitor, drifted into his ears.

"Come now, Erin. You know very well, that's no way to deal with your anger issues," the intruder taunted.

Without a single thought, Erin turned and attacked. He was about to tackle her when - just like that girl all those centuries ago - she simply disappeared and his face got acquainted with a tree. He let out a slight grunt of pain as the sound of breaking bone, echoed through the woods.

Staying on the ground, he waited patiently for the bridge of his now broken nose to repair itself. This was one of the few pros of falling victim to the supernatural world.

As soon as the crack was pushed back into place, Erin stood up and closed his eyes, trying to hone all his senses in on one task.

He pictured his aura as a balloon - hesitantly letting it expand and reach out towards any other living presence that may be near.

While his eyes were shut, his outstretched aura was met by the faint glow of an innocent rabbit, the pulsing thud of a raven making nest, and, finally, the tainted, wispy aura of a century-old Black Witch.

Erin opened his eyes now that he knew where the real witch was, but - unlike the first time - he didn't attack right away. He stalked her, just as he would his prey. He made sure to completely pull in his aura so that she wouldn't be able to feel him coming.

He had other plans. He taunted her by stepping on a twig alerting her of his presence beside her, only to disappear to the other side before she could turn and find him there. So he carried on, even touching her lightly every now and then, to raise her levels of frustration.

Having had enough of this childish escapade, Andrea flicked out her wrists, palms pointed forward, yet at nothing specific. She let her eyes flutter shut, entirely ignoring the sounds of Erin and the small taps he would deliver.

With her head clear and focused, eyes tightly shutting out the surrounding woods, and magic at the ready, Andrea started to chant in the Ancient Tongue of Witches, "Deum precor tenebras, damnum Erin fiat. Hoc qui sentiunt, quid fecerint, ut canis a karma fiet."

Coming to an unplanned, abrupt stop, Erin tumbled to the ground, clutching at his chest. He struggled to breath, his lungs not working properly. It felt like there was a hand around his heart, trying to force it into a smaller shape. Spots of varied colours danced before his eyes as his head pounded mercilessly and the blood in his veins felt like it was drying up.