Author's Note: ^_^ Cody angst is fun! Yis. Maybe if people like him enough...he'll be so popular that someone'll make him into a UFO catcher! One can dream, I guess. ^_^
-Lucca

Don't stop running. Don't. DON'T! If you stop running, he'll get you! So just don't stop...you can do it! Just a little more...oh goddess someone help me...just a little more...a little more...

With a pained gasp, the youth felt his knees buckle in as he fell gracelessly to the frozen ground. His teeth chattered noisily as he thrust himself to his feet with a soft grunt, feeling hot tears of frustration and pain well up in his eyes. He looked behind his shoulder quickly, and found nothing travelling up the path he just trod, only the footprints he left behind in the snow, which were quickly being devoured by a fresh blanket of white.

He let out a soft sigh of relief. It was gone...for now it seemed. It was an appropriate name because he had no clue just what it was, exactly. He thought back to how this all started, and yet spots were foggy. This puzzled him greatly, because his parents always remarked on how good he was with remembering details. He had to be travelling with someone, but...somehow he got lost. All that was around him was forests and more forest. What made it worse was that the normally detectable path was covered in at least a foot of snow, making it very hard to walk upon. Some spots were slicked over, and he fell several times, fortunately not injuring himself much except an occasional scrape on his elbows and knees. At first, being lost was more of annoyance than a life or death situation.

Then It appeared. And yet...he couldn't remember the face...or what he wore. At first, he thought it might have been one of his friends. He took a few steps forward, and so did It. Then he stopped, because he realized with painful clarity that he HAD no friends. It seemed to sense his recoiling, because it unfurled something in its hand, and lashed it harshly towards his face. A whip made entirely of spiny thorns, that part he remembered vividly. He was probably intending to slash his throat open, but the attack struck home anyway, slashing open his left cheek, and nearly gouging out his eye. He stared at It in shock for several long seconds, cradling his now freely bleeding cheek. Finally, he felt something flicker in his mind. Call it survival instinct, perhaps, and he began to run as fast as his legs could carry him, and could hear the rhythmic sounds of crunching boots on the snow: one belonging to him, the other belonging to It.

Blindly he ran on...almost endlessly as It persued him with inhuman endurance. Although he kept a fairly good lead over It, there was the occasional strike from behind by his crude weapon. One it tore through his back, another time his legs, and yet another time it sliced open his shoulder, ripping through both his clothing and core of his being. The blood and wetness of the snow slowly drained the life out of him, until all that forced him to go on was the sheer pumping of adrenaline. He didn't know how long he ran...or which path he took. They all looked the same. Finally he slipped on the frozen earth, plummeting down a hill, tumbling through bare shrubs and bits of snow and dirt, and stopped on a path that looked almost the same as the one he was just on...and took a few faltering steps...and stopped.

And that was where he was now. He looked behind his shoulder to make sure he was alone. Indeed he was...no It. Even though he lost his pursuer, his chance of survival was grim. Even if he could find help, hypothermia of loss of blood would probably kill him before he got the chance. Still, he had to try. He took another few faltering steps through the snow, tightly wrapping his arms around his body to generate warmth. All he could hear were two soft pairs of footsteps crunching through the snow...

Two...footsteps...?

Something grabbed his backside harshly, whirling him around in the opposite direction. His breathing quickened...he knew who it was...Oh Goddess...did he know...

And even though he stared face to face with his pursuer...he could not see his face clearly. All he could see was its eyes boring down on him...spiraling pits of blackness and hollow dementia that threatened to swallow him whole if he looked at them long enough. He flinched, turning away, but didn't struggle. He was too tired and cold.

"Why do you turn away from me?" It spoke. It's voice sounded almost unisex...indescribable.

"Why...why are you doing this to me? What do you want? I've...I've done nothing!"

It smiled...at least he thought it smiled, and once again unfurled its thorny whip, but did not strike. It gently placed the youth back on the ground...and the boy wanted so desperately to run...but he found himself freezing in place, panting softly.

"Some of us must accept what the Goddess has given us. And yet you turn away from my judgement, Cody Hylissa? Why? You do not understand...you shall never understand." It breathed softly in his ear, suddenly grabbing one end of the whip in it's gloved hands, and stretching it tightly.

"...But, fear not. Your suffering shall end soon. We all have our place in things..." With that, It wrapped the thorny whip around his neck, and pulled it tightly, cutting off his airflow completely. He choked loudly, desperately gulping for air as the thorns pierced through the soft skin of his neck, blood dribbling down the rags of his shirt. He flailed wildly, attempting pry the makeshift noose from his neck, to no avail. Eventually, he felt his heart slow down his chest...and something deep in his mind clicked. He stopped flailing, his vision beginning to blacken, and felt his head fall backwards, forever and ever into oblivion as his eyes closed.

Then, he felt himself flying upwards as his vision was once again restored. He felt light and weightless, like the snow that was free-falling to the earth, and now gently caressing the still body that was just deposited on the ground. He knew it was his body; no one had to tell him. Yet he didn't feel sad about his death, because he felt no pain anymore. He felt nothing but peace, and yet there was emptiness too. And he still felt abnormally cold. He stared down at the rapidly paling body, who's eyes somehow opened again and stared up blankly at his murderer. It stared down at the body for a few long minutes, and breathed out the words "...And now, you have found your place..."

He felt himself flying up further again, as warmth spread throughout his body, and his vision melted into white...

***

The warm fuzziness slowly brought him to the brink of both sleep and wakefulness, as he felt someone pull something gently over his exposed body, nuzzling him in warmth. He breathed softly, and opened his eyes enough so he could see who it was. The form was both hard and yet feminine at the same time, and yet stared down at him with a soft, curious expression. For several moments, she remained like this, until she finally turned heel and headed back upstairs.

"Rachel...?" he murmured softly and sat up, but she was already out of earshot. He frowned, curling up further into the blanket Rhiana had graciously loaned him as he felt that same coldness creep back into his body. It was different coldness though... for he didn't know what to think about Rachel. When he was around her, he felt safe. She had called him a friend...an actual friend. He didn't know if she meant in jest, and he prayed she didn't, because that would mean he would be all alone again. And he wasn't sure if he could handle it now.

He closed his eyes, recalling the dream. It was too much; first his parents, and now a new dream. Even though he left Kippo behind, the dreams still followed him, like excess baggage. And they were growing more gruesome every night, so gruesome that he was afraid to close his eyes, for fear that he'd travel to a place where he would suffer endless terrors. Because no matter how many friends he could surround himself with, in his dreams, he always had to suffer alone. He felt hot tears welling up in his eyes, and tried to force them back. "Boys don't cry," his father always told him, growing up. But even thinking about his father for that brief second brought back the painful memories of what he left behind: The poisoning, his sickened parents, and the entire town turning against him, calling him a freak of nature. It was too much, too soon. He felt the tears fall freely down his cheeks despite his mental protest, then finally gave up, resting his head against the post of the sofa and sobbing quietly, with no soul as a witness.

THE END