The scent of blood filled the air like an ominous miasma. Shrieks of pain and fear rang through the trees carried by the wind. Loader shrieks of pain erupted as the sounds of ripping flesh filled the surroundings. A small green creature crawled through the underbrush, pain evident on its face as its heavy breath slowly quieted. Blood ran from three identical slashes along its back. As it crawled through thick undergrowth, its smashed leg bashed into rocks and plant life. Pain filled its face as it let out a quiet cry, its eyes widening as fear painted its face. It stilled its body and quieted. It shivered in fear as the shrieks ended. The sound of bones snapping and flesh tearing pealed loudly behind the small figure as it slowly started to crawl again.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the skeleton walked deeper, the air seemed to thicken. The feeling of freedom he felt was replaced by growing apprehension. The gentle breeze changed to a shrill shriek as branches rattled. The trees seemed to be peering down at him, trapping him on the aged path. Focusing on listening, he heard the wind carrying soft cries, shrill with pain and fear. His legs slowed subconsciously as the scent of blood followed close behind the cries. As quickly as they started, the phantom screams stopped. This did not settle the skeletons apprehension, as the scent of blood carried on the wind only thickened as the cries quitted. As the sounds stopped, so too did his progress deeper. He put his bone hand against the darkened trunk of a tree. His vision disappeared as his hearing sharpened. The thrumming from his chest quickened as he listened for any sound and hint to what or where the shrieks were coming from. He found no traces; the night seemed to pool around him. His sharpened hearing caught nothing but the wind.

His skeletal body sat perfectly still for what felt like an hour before he heard it. Soft, labored breath. He felt a shiver through his spine as he peered around the tree. In the underbrush, cloaked by night, lay a small individual. Its eyes closed, it's breathing soft. Blood covered its back, running from large claw marks in its back. Its leg smashed and crocked sat limply behind it, deadweight—a trail of blood leading from where the screams came. The skeleton slowly inched forward, his footfalls silent as each step found its mark. He leaned over a small green creature covered in blood. The creature was dressed similarly to the one he had killed, but the green-skinned creature had more of its body covered in primitive hide. Unlike the other creature, this one had its chest and stomach covered as well. Its body weakly shivered in the cold night air as its blood dried on its back. He leaned over the small figure, and for a reason unknown to even himself, put his fingers to its neck. He could feel a weak beat, similar to the beating from his stone. He felt pangs of the same feeling he felt when he looked at the skeletons, a sad feeling. The skeleton realized, though, that this was different. It could help the small person. He could save it. This small person was not empty.

His mind raced, searching for any solution he could come up with. While his mind searched for answers, he felt a strange feeling from where his throat should have been. A soft blood-red light glowed on his blade as runes lit up. He saw a pale blood-covered human face in his mind. Suddenly, the face smiled, revealing fangs dripping with blood. The skeleton realized what to do. Looking around, the skeleton saw a hole in a tree. Looking in, he saw his quarry, a small furry creature sleeping. He reached his thin, skeletal arm in and grabbed the creature. It shrieked in surprise, biting and clawing at his hand. Bringing it over to the person, he put the sword in their unconscious hand. He poked the animal on the leg, guiding the unconscious hand to his intended target. Tiny drops of blood ran down the face of the blade from the tip, running down and dripping into the slightly glowing runes. He let the small beast go, and it dashed through the trees deeper into the forest. Next, he scraped the tip of the blade along his skeletal arm, bone powder falling to the tip. He carefully brushed the dust into the gathered blood. Dust into the accumulated blood. Letting his instincts guide him, he pushed a small amount of green flame from his heart stone. The rune began glowing a soft yellow, and then the light rushed through the blade into the little green figure. The wound glowed yellow and started to close. It only closed about a third of the way before the injuries stopped glowing.

That should do for now. I need to move it out of here. We're too close to whatever did this.