The days bled together in a terrible monotony with Chey’s only variation being how often she needed to repair the salt ring. Each time she was tempted to make a run for it. Prowlers were a pursuit predator, moving steadily towards their prey at a pace just slower than Chey could jog. The nearest town was seven miles away and with how little Chey’d been eating, she doubted she could make it very far before being caught. As the bag of salt grew lighter and lighter, though, the temptation to run grew stronger.

She no longer kept the door to her house closed. She didn’t see the point in it. The prowlers would tear through it like it wasn’t there once the salt ring failed and not knowing where the prowlers were exactly was wearing on her mind. At least this way they could see one another. With the door open, the prowlers all sat just on the other side of the salt ring, watching her.

Would they eventually leave if her salt ring lasted long enough? It was a faint hope that the prowlers would give up. As far as she knew, prowlers could literally go years without food and be just fine. They were patient killers.

Chey allowed herself an extra piece of jerky today. It was obvious how much longer her food would last in comparison to her salt so what was the point of being so hungry? Next, she ate an apple and washed it all down with a bit of water. As she was putting the pitcher back in it’s place, she glanced towards the door and was surprised to find all of the prowlers were gone. Curious, she poked her head out and looked around.

There was no sign of the prowlers. She couldn’t even hear their phantom whispering. Then the silence was broken by the mad whinny of a horse and the shriek of several people. It came from the direction of the main road. It seemed some travelers had indeed come along and distracted the prowlers.

Without waiting to let herself think, Chey took off at a run, away from the screaming and in the direction of the next town over. Staying in her house would have her dead by tomorrow afternoon whereas making a run for it now with the prowlers distracted might just give her a chance at survival. With luck, the prowlers would be so busy with the travelers that they wouldn’t begin pursuing her for long enough that she could get a big enough lead to make it to the next town. A part of her was ashamed to admit that she hoped the travelers didn’t get away since that would give her more time to build up a head start.

It was difficult to pace herself. She wanted to run as fast as she could but she knew that at that pace she’d tire almost at once. All she had to do was jog and she’d be going faster than the prowlers. Jog and don’t stop jogging until she reached the next town. Seven miles was a long ways for her to jog. Even before her rationing of food had sapped away at her strength she hadn’t been the best runner. Still, survival was a good motivator.

For an uncomfortable amount of time she could still hear the screaming. In many ways that was good for her since it meant the prowlers were distracted. In other ways it just reminded her of what fate might await her if she failed to keep jogging. The prolonged screams also meant that whoever they were was fighting back since once a prowler got you, they killed you quickly. They were calling for help in addition to their screams and almost Chey turned back. But what could she do? She wasn’t trained to fight. She didn’t even have salt on her since she’d left her house in such a rush.

Eventually Chey couldn’t hear them screaming anymore and she hoped it was because she’d put enough distance between them and herself. With every step she felt a mounting fear. Was she going fast enough to stay ahead of the prowlers? Was she going too fast that she’d tire herself out prematurely? Would she make it to the next town?

After a few minutes of jogging, her muscles and lungs began to protest. It was easy to keep herself going at first, but as the burning sensations increased it became more and more taxing on her to keep moving. There were no landmarks along the road to tell her exactly how far she’d gone but she knew she couldn’t even be halfway there yet.

Chey kept jogging. She ignored the pain and exhaustion as best she could while also ignoring the temptation to look behind her. The road was fairly straight so if the prowlers were in pursuit then she’d likely be able to see them back there. She just had to keep moving. Keep jogging. One step and then another. If she could do that enough times then she’d reach safety and could rest.

To help keep herself motivated, Chey thought back on her village and how it was wiped out. The grisly scene of death she’d been witness to was a strong incentive to keep going. When she wasn’t thinking about that, she instead tried to focus on the road itself, with its potholes and divots worn into its surface from the traffic that frequented it. If she was lucky she’d run into someone else traveling along the road in a cart or wagon and get a ride with them into town.

It was as she was just turning to look at the road in front of her that she stepped right into a rut and lost her footing. Her ankle twisted painfully and she tumbled to the ground, skinning her knees and elbows as well as the side of her face. She gripped her ankle as soon as she stopped skidding and was relieved to see it wasn’t broken. For the first time since she left her home she looked back the way she’d come. The road was empty behind her. That was a relief.

She gingerly climbed back up and tested her ankle. It ached as she shifted her weight onto it and she was pretty sure she’d sprained it. As best she could figure, she was about halfway to her destination. Wincing as she went, Chey started moving down the road once more. She ignored the cuts and scrapes since those were all superficial. Besides, when compared with the pain in her ankle they were very minor inconveniences.

Try as she might, she couldn’t maintain her jogging pace anymore. Her gait now was more akin to a hop as she tried to minimize the amount of time and weight she spent on her injured ankle. She was at least moving faster than a walk but not by much. Now it really did come down to whether or not she’d been able to put enough distance between herself and the prowlers up to this point.

It was easy to keep from looking behind herself when she’d been jogging but now she found herself looking back every few minutes. Each time she braced herself for the awful image of the prowlers tearing up the road on their way to kill her but each time she looked back she didn’t see any sign of them. Was it possible they’d been so thoroughly distracted that they’d forgotten about her? Or perhaps they’d gone back to her house not knowing she wasn’t inside any more. Chey couldn’t remember whether or not she’d shut the door to her house when she’d left but if she had then perhaps the prowlers thought she was still inside.

She hoped these thoughts weren’t filling her up with a false hope. She didn’t know what she’d do if she ever turned back and saw them on the road. Maybe the shock and fear at seeing them would spur her on to being able to run again.

Although Chey expected her ankle to get worse the longer she kept walking, it actually began to improve. She still couldn’t jog on it but her walking gait became more even and she quickened her pace once more. At this rate, she figured she could reach the town in another hour or so. It would likely be the longest hour of her life, but if she made then it would be worth the effort.

She glanced back after several minutes and noticed a faint haziness down the road. It was still quite distant and she couldn’t make out any details but she had a good guess as to what it was. The prowlers were back on her trail and running up the road towards her. Their unnatural bodies were tearing up the road as they went, creating the dust cloud that Chey was seeing.

It was difficult to tell exactly how far back they were, but she guessed at least a couple miles. If her guess on how close she was to town was correct then she could still make it. She tried to jog but the pain returned in full force after only a few paces and she slowed back down to a fast walk. It was the best she could manage and hoped it would be enough. Ahead of her she could see the bend in the road that would finally let her see the town. It was maybe a mile ahead of her.

In truth, she wouldn’t need to reach the town entirely. Their protectors should see her coming, along with the prowlers, and come out to help her. It was an encouraging thought, even as she looked back and noted how the haze was getting closer. Maybe she’d misjudged how fast prowlers could go, or how far away they’d been to begin with, but they were closing the distance between them and her much faster than she’d expected.

Chey picked up her pace yet again, forcing herself to jog through the pain. She might wind up giving herself a limp for the rest of her life but if it meant she could live that life then it was a sacrifice worth making. The bend in the trees drew closer with each step. Trails of smoke from chimneys rose into the air above the trees. She was getting close.

When at last she rounded the bend in the road she saw exactly how much farther she had to go. It wasn’t as close as she’d hoped, but it wasn’t entirely out of reach. She stole one last glance back at the prowlers who were coming into full view now, before spurring herself onward for one last push. She broke out into a run, her ankle screaming at her to stop, and shouting at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t sure where the protectors were but she wanted to get their attention as soon as possible.

People from the town were visible to her now, going about their daily lives as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on. For them, nothing odd had happened as far as they were concerned. They had no idea that the town just a few miles away had been wiped out.

To her relief, half a dozen defenders stepped out of the tree line a little ways ahead of her and held up their hands for her to stop.

“Prowlers,” Chey gasped when she reached them, “on the road. Killed my town.”

The defenders nodded and motioned for her to get behind them. Together, they began moving back towards the town at a pace Chey could follow while one was sent ahead to gather their forces. All the while, Chey wept. She didn’t know why her body decided this was the moment to let out all the pent up terror but she couldn’t stop it once it started. A pair of defenders put their arms around her and helped her along. They spoke comfortingly to her but Chey didn’t have enough mental space to really hear them. She was safe and already more defenders were arriving and getting into position, setting up salt traps to funnel the prowlers into a kill zone.

When they reached the town proper a group of women were there, ready to take her someplace to tend to her but Chey waved them off, turning instead to watch the defenders. When the prowlers rounded the bend they didn’t slow down. They were single-minded when they were on the hunt and not intelligent enough to know to avoid the defenders and their traps. As intended, the prowlers ended up surrounded by the salt traps and the defenders began stabbing at them with their weapons. Chey didn’t know what was so special about their weapons, only that a regular spear or arrow wouldn’t affect a prowler. Soon, the prowlers were leaking their strange fog like blood. It pooled around them and the prowlers wavered, sinking down onto the ground and eventually fading away into nothing.

For a long while, Chey stood there, looking at the spot where they’d vanished. Her mind was blank and she felt an emptiness inside of her at the loss of her town. Her friends, neighbors, and family were all gone. They hadn’t faded away like the defeated prowlers. Their corpses, what was left of them, were still back there. In the morning, perhaps, she’d lead a group of them back to her town so they could give a proper burial to the dead. For now, at least, she finally let the women lead her away to tend to her needs. It would take a while to heal from this ordeal, and the worst wounds, she feared, weren’t the physical kind.