âMy hands are red with blood. Iâm running through a forest. Naked, but I donât care. Iâm an animal, not a human. Animals donât need clothes.
Blood on my tongue too. Must have fed recently. Canât remember if it was a wild creature or a person. Not bothered much either way. Still hungryâthatâs all that matters. Need to find something new to chew. And soon.
I leap a fallen log. As I land, my bare feet hit twigs. They snap and I sink into a pool of mud. I collapse, howling. The twigs bite into me. I catch a glimpse of fiery red eyes peering up out of the mud. They arenât twigsâtheyâre teeth! I lash out with my feet, screaming wordlesslyâ¦
⦠and mud and bits of bark fly everywhere. I stare at the mess suspiciously, my heart rate returning to normal. I was wrong. I havenât fallen victim to a monstrous baby with mouths in the palms of its hands and balls of fire where its eyes should be. Itâs just a muddy hole, covered with the remains of branches and leaves.
Scowling, I rise and wipe my feet clean on clumps of nearby grass. As Iâm using my nails to pick off some splinters, a voice calls, âGrubbsâ¦â
The name doesnât register immediately. Then I rememberâthatâs my name. Or it used to be, once upon a time. I glance up warily, sniffing the air, but all I can smell is blood.
âGrubitschâ¦â the voice murmurs and I growl angrily. I hate my real name. Grubbs isnât great, but itâs better than Grubitsch. Nobody ever called me that except Mum and my sister Gret.
âYou canât find me,â the voice teases.
I roar into the darkness of the forest, then lurch at the bushes where I think the voice is coming from. I tear through them but thereâs nothing on the other side.
âWrong,â the voice laughs, coming from a spot behind me.
I whirl and squint, but I canât see anyone.
âOver here,â the voice whispers. This time itâs coming from my right.
Still squinting, I edge closer, towards the source of the voice. This feels wrong, like itâs a trap. But I canât back away from it. Iâm drawn on by curiosity, but also something else. Itâs a girlâs voice and I think I know whose it is.
Movement to my left, just as Iâm about to round a tree. Eight long, pale arms wave in the light of the moon. Dozens of tiny snakes hiss and slither. I cry out with fear and slam into the tree, shielding my eyes from the horror. Seconds pass but nothing attacks. Lowering my arms, I realise the arms were just branches of a couple of neighbouring trees. The snakes were vines, blowing in the wind.
I feel sick but I force a weak chuckle, then slide around the tree in search of the person who called to me.
Iâm at the edge of a pond. I frown at it. I know this forest and there should be no pond here. But there it lies regardless, the full moon reflected in its still surface. Iâm thirsty. The blood has dried on my tongue, leaving a nasty copper-like taste. I crouch to drink from the pond, going down on all fours and lowering my head to the water like a wolf.
I see my face in the mirror-like water before I drink. Blood everywhere, caked into my flesh and hair. My eyes widen and fill with fear. Not because of the blood, but because I can see the shadow of somebody behind me.
I start to turn, but itâs too late. The girl pushes my head down hard and I go under. Water fills my mouth and I gag. I try to fight but the girl is strong. She holds me down and my lungs fill. The coppery taste is still there and I realise, as I blink with horrified fascination, that the pond is actually a pool of blood.
As my body goes limp, the girl pulls me up by my hair and laughs shrilly as I draw a hasty, terrified breath. âYou always were a useless coward, Grubitsch,â she sneers.
âGret?â I moan, staring up at the mocking smile of my sister. âI thought you were dead.â
âNo,â she croaks, eyes narrowing and snout lengthening. â