The Crocotta, part five

Getting lost in thought is a bad habit, but I never thought that it'd get me lost in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night. I don't even know where I am, much less remember how I got here. The clouds have broken and I can finally see by that dim starlight, and all I can see is hundreds of thousands of trees, thick like a brick wall surrounding me. I listen closely, listen for that poor little girl, that girl who's been shouting Help me, Help me, for what feels like hours now. I stand there for a good five minutes in complete silence; nothing. I'm rushing through the woods now, stumbling over my busted knee and all sorts of roots, leaving that horrible piece of human anatomy behind. What a horrible way to go, that poor kid. It had to be her, that Ashland kid who went missing. She must have been kidnapped by those damn drugged up bastards, killed and god knows what else, then left for wild dogs to find and... God, I have to stop again, just to throw up one more time, but I can't. I'm staring straight down to throw up and I can't, because i'm staring straight down at a human skull, weathered and old, small like the head of a nine year old child. I stare at it and I see it completely in the faded starlight. The toothmarks are much more visible, more area to leave a bite, I suppose. I swallow whats left of my dinner in my throat and stand up, staring straight ahead. It looks like there could be a clearing ahead, its a little brighter beyond those trees. I've got to save this girl, I've just got to find her, I've got to do something with my life worth doing. I hear it from the clearing, the wicked laughter of those horrible fucking teenagers. They're high now and they're out there, shooting up the same things I did at their age, heroin and crystal meth, god damned bastards. I should avoid that clearing, avoid it altogether, but then I hear something else, clear as crystal as the laughter dies down.
"Help Me"
I act without thought, without needing to think, I know that that little girl is in there and she is in danger, extreme danger, and I can save her. I grab the nearest tree branch and snap it off, pure adrenaline pumping through my veins as I crash through the trees into the empty space. The thin moonlight casts its glow over the clearing, and on the other side is a dog. No little girl who's hurt and alone, no kids shooting up heroin and god knows what else, just some god damned dog and it doesn't make a lick of sense. I stare at the dog for a good minute before I burst out laughing, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all; the woods, the time, the girl, everything. The branch falls out of my hand as I stare at that damn dog and watch as it turns its head to look at me. My eyes adjust a little better and I see it a little clearer, and it looks like no damn dog I've ever seen in my life, more like a damn lion. I watch it turn to me and hear the clopping of hooves, the stamping a horse makes when it walks. I stop laughing. I watch it pad into better lighting, look at its long lion tail, its hoofed feet, its striped markings, its mouth burst open in what I swear is a grin that pulls back into the mane, a mouth too big for its face. I watch it stop dead center of the clearing and open its jaw, move its lips, like a person. I wait for its roar, or bark, or whinny, anticipating anything, anything but what comes next. The sound out of its mouth is words, words in the voice of a scared, sad little girl.
"Help me..."
It tilts its head back and cackles, like a crowd of human voices cackling and laughing like teenagers on drugs, a cackle that carries all around the clearing and fills my ears with such a horrible ring. I step backwards, still staring at it, back up against a tree, watch it encroach... closer, closer...
"Help me... Help me... Don't let it eat me..."
Another cackle, and I think to myself that I was wrong about those teenagers, those kids are alright.