Part 4 - "Šdog will have his day."

His senses returned, he moaned and rose slowly to his feet, his head throbbed, and his jaw ached. He scratched at the side of his pate and brought away a handful of blood and brain. He stared amazed and terrified, and that was when he heard the footfall. He looked and beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was tall, blonde, and statuesque, with classical features. She stood there, dressed from shoulder to loins in a short dress made of skins, her right breast exposed. He felt himself attracted to her, desiring her, his body reacting to her, despite his condition.

She looked at him, and smiled. Hope flared in his heart, then something about the smile, thought it never changed, made him uneasy. As she stepped closer, he instinctively stepped back, even though his loins filled with fire for her, he instinctively feared her. His body was at war with itself, one half desiring her, the other half fearful. Then she laughed, and his heart both melted with rapture and froze with terror. Her laugh ended with a deep heart-stopping howl that issued from the bushes that surrounded. Large hounds, with flaming red eyes, slavering jaws and bristling coats emerged from the scrub, eyeing him like a tenderloin steak.

Pubis turned and fled, he intellect taking control of his body and deciding it was time to flee. The hellhound chorus let out another howl that belled through the forest and chased him. He scrambled through bracken and brush, trying to find a way to escape from them, but no matter how he twisted and turned, they seemed right behind him. Soon he heard the whisking sounds of arrows flying past. At first he counted himself lucky that the archer missed him, then he realised that each dart was finding its mark, herding him in a specific direction. He tried to change course, only to have a quarrel sink deep into his shoulder. He staggered, and another sunk into his hip.

The pain was excruciating. He burst through a hedge, and found himself surrounded by two packs of hellhounds. The huntress leapt over the hedge and fired an arrow through his chest as a large man with a vast rack of stag antlers, on a demon steed, pinned him to the ground with a mighty spear.

The hunters and their packs eyed each other warily, then a mutual laugh erupted from them and the hounds bayed with hellish delight. Both packs lunged at the boy, tearing him limb from limb and devouring his extremities. He watched in horror as the hunter and huntress, set up a fire, and spitting his remains began to roast his head and torso over a roaring fire. He could feel it all, the pain of the rending, the burning of his flesh, the grind of teeth on bone, the acid of their saliva and digestion. Finally the pair tossed his head to the hounds that chased it about like it was a freakish ball, chewing on it and sucking his brains out. Finally the pain and torture seemed too much and he lost consciousness.

His senses returned, he moaned and rose slowly to his feet, his head throbbed, and his jaw ached. He scratched at the side of his pate and brought away a handful of blood and brain. He stared amazed and terrified, and that was when he heard the footfall. Then the memory came back and he fled, screaming in terror as the laughter and the howling echoed after him.