Thomas' scream was enough to pierce the twilight, to impale it over a stake of sheer horror. Funnily, the night wasn't the only thing impaled.

You propped yourself weakly on your elbows, observing as the monster's arrowhead tongue pierces Thomas' stomach, the foul, moulding smell cloaking the air in discomfort as the moster sucked.

Before you could protest, Andrew was pulling you to your feet, having snatched up the Sharpie Thomas had used to draw the noose in his drawing. Granted, it hadn't worked.

Andrew ran with you, and quickly explained his thoughts.

-- A: "Thomas' monsters come from my fairy tales!" He shouted over the mix of screams and sobs ripped from Thomas. "I-If I can write one like this, maybe that's how we defeat it?!"

He quickly scribbled down a story. One of a witch who had loved to suck the life out of young boys, but errupted into ash as she tried to perform her tricks on a flame-haired boy.

You looked back to where you'd left Thomas.

The monster had burst into grey flakes. Your heartbeat was hammering your ribs violently, as relief flooded your senses, knowing that Thomas was no longer in danger.

Andrew took off to recover Thomas, the hatchet some ways away.

-- T: "Fuck me..." Thomas winced, trying to sit up.

-- A: "Don't." He searched for the Emergency Aide Kit, finding it in your bag. He cleaned up Thomas' wound.