by Jess Shanahan

Created on: June 29, 2009

Sudden blackness, the door was closed, freedom was gone. Ryssa turned quietly to look back into the depths of the tunnel, the deep breathing of the tunnel hound echoed around the small space, she raised her gun, pointed in the vague direction she expected the beast to be, she pressed the trigger and let a stream of bullets. Finally, her gun clicked signalling that she needed to reload, in the darkness she fumbled for another clip, it was on her belt. There had been no yelp, no sound from the beast other than the low, ominous breathing and now Ryssa's ears were ringing with the sound of gunfire, she couldn't hear the sounds of breath but that didn't mean it wasn't there.

Still trying to find the clip on her belt as her ears became used to the near silence she raised her head as she heard the soft padding sound of an animal walking closer. There was no way she could've missed it, it was right in front of her, yet it was moving closer and closer. Her fingers curled around the curved shape of the clip, she pulled it out of her belt, and went to click it into place. However, before her hand had even the chance to bring the clip to the gun she could feel the terrifying warmth of a hound, as tall as she was, breathing down on her.

Freezing with fright all she could do was take in the scent of death on its jaws, her mind shot back to over ten years ago, she'd faced one of these creatures and lived to tell the tale. The smell on its breath and the harsh rasping sound it made on each inhale made her head flood with images from the night she'd heard her mother killed by one of these things.

Trying to gather he wits about her Ryssa forced her military training to the forefront of her mind pushing out the bad memories and bringing in the ones that mattered right then. She took a step back, feeling unnerved about being in such close proximity to such a huge animal. There was a rush of air and she knew to brace herself ready to feel the great animal land on top of her.

As she was pushed to the ground she felt her head hit the floor, her breathing was hampered and one great paw was pinning her gun to her chest. She couldn't even shoot the beast; she struggled to breathe whilst its great form exceeded more pressure on her chest as it leant down. A great rasp of air in front of her told her that the hound was sniffing her; she closed her eyes and shielded her face with her free arm.

The biting, barking and growling she had been expecting never came, the blackness enveloped

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