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MOVE AWAY
You go; it follows. You glance back, but it keeps its distance. You feel you cannot make misstep. Yet each time you stray, it looms near your side, an arm outstretched and pointed that way or this way.
It directs you deeper into the forest. The trees seem older here, their branches blocking out most of the light. The sun, too, is nearly down, plunging the area back into darkness.
The creature behind you stumbles, multi-jointed legs crumpling briefly like an accordian. And for a moment you believe you will lose it in the dark, before it reaches out an arm and its fingers grasp your shoulder tightly.
The fingers are hot, nearly scalding your skin.
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