Twilight Hollow

Below is the first chapter of a story I started writing at the age of 14, it's barely been touched since back then but I'm thinking about editing this, and the other 14k odd words I wrote, and finally finishing the darn thing .  Reckon it can be salvaged?

Her long trench coat flapped against her sides as her eyes searched for the moon in the dark, cloudy sky.  All in sight however, were thick clouds preparing to dump their burden upon her.  “Curse this place!” she whispered sharply to no one.  As she gazed around the dense forest, tentacle like fingers tried to grasp her.  She shoved the branches away with leather-clad hands, shuddering.  This was the last place she wanted to be but knew she had little choice in the matter. 

Taking a deep breath, she ploughed on, stopping briefly to disentangle her backpack from the tendrils.  The high pitched wail of an unknown beast sent a shiver down her spine, distracting her so completely that one foot sank into the thick slime that covered the ground.  Cursing loudly once again, she heaved her foot out and continued onward.

Suddenly thunder cracked and the clouds proceeded to release their load so she picked up the pace, all senses alert for the unexpected.  Her ears pricked for the slightest sound but all she could hear was the spatter of her weathered boots and the cool rain.

The faster pace soon got the better of her so she stopped and crouched under a small tree to catch her breath.  Her small, slim figure of five foot three meant less crouching than most.  Looking around, tiny eyes filled with mirth gazed at her out of the darkness.  “Splat!” a thick stream of warm goo landed in her shoulder-length, blond-brown hair.

“Ugh!” she exclaimed, small nose wrinkled in disgust, frantically wiping it off and pouting like a small child.  Looking up she saw that the culprit was in fact the tree itself and scrambled out of the leafed shelter mumbling.

The chilly breeze made her shiver more than ever now that she was drenched.  “I hate this place!  I hate the cold!” her voice echoed through the trees startling winged creatures into flight.  Clenching her small fists she stamped her feet angrily, well toned muscles bunching under her clothes.

A rustle of leaves…a snap of a twig…Chris whirled around, squinting into the darkness.  The thing got nearer…she could make out a long hairy snout…cold merciless eyes gazed hungrily at her.  As it advanced, she took step after step backwards, still trying to make out the creature. 

Suddenly she realised what it was, and it took all her strength to withhold a scream.  Chris turned and sprinted hard in the opposite direction.  She ran as fast as she could, shoving through the thick, mutated trees that stretched across her path.  She could hear it gaining.  It growled for her to give up…but she kept running.  She stumbled on an erect tree root but she refused to stop.  She was running out of strength, she knew she wouldn’t be fast enough to outrun it…she had to face it.

  She skidded to the side of the road, into a small clearing, pulling a sharp machete from its sheaf on her back.  All along she knew it would come to this, but before now she had refused to accept the fact.  The beast slid to a halt also, in a puddle of mud and slime, sending a wave of gunk her way.  She shielded her eyes momentarily, as it passed by and when she took her hand away she saw the beast take one step after another backward.  “Please go away…please” Chris thought.  “Oh dear,” she realised its plan…it was preparing to charge…

  “Ok, relax Chris, you can handle this,” she told herself in a whisper,” You’ll get out of this easy if you just keep your head.”  Taking deep steadying breaths she considered her options.  Running just wasn’t one, the beast could outrun her easily.  She studied it cautiously, as it did her.  The walfien gazed at her through dark pitiless eyes that absorbed the small amount of light around them without reflecting it.  ”Creepy,” Chris thought.  It was built along the lines of a wolf, with dark hair, long snout, strong hind legs and feet, but that was where those traits ended.  It did however, have human-like hands, which weren’t a real danger unless it had a weapon to wield, which it fortunately hadn’t.  The tail was its weapon, sharp spikes riddled the thing, and it sure knew how to use it.  Chris noted the way it waved slowly, each spike shining in the thin slivers of moonlight.  All of this passed through her mind in a flash.

“This is it, ready or not,” she told herself silently.  She knew she had to fight it so she steadied herself, as to be perfectly balanced when the attack came.  Remembering the pack on her back, she swiftly removed it and tossed it aside, it would only slow her down otherwise.  Adjusting her grip on the machete, she held it to her side fingering it nervously, moonlight glinting off it.  Looking around the girl realised that this was probably not the ideal location to fight a psycho walfien.  Thick knobbly trees lined the clearing, blocking escape from each direction other than the one through which she had come.  The rain mercifully had stopped, but it had left deep puddles of thick mud in its wake.  She glanced back at her foe, just catching the red flash that glittered across its angry eyes.

It charged, thinking to catch her by surprise, but she was ready.  As it gained speed, Chris held her breath.  “Please God let my training hold,” she pleaded silently.  Mud spattered in waves as the beast approached, the wind rose blowing leaves across the clearing.  It was just a few metres away; she leapt, springing onto its back as it approached.  Her tackle brought it to the ground, for a moment, it then jumped about trying to throw her off, tail flailing.  She refused to let go, wrapping her unarmed hand around its belly, as well as her feet.  “This wasn’t such a good idea,” she groaned as spike struck flesh.  In her pain she dropped the machete.  In a flash she knew there was no chance to retrieve it so she drew her dagger from its sheaf on her belt.  She gripped it tightly and began to franticly stab the beast anywhere possible.  The walfien moaned in agony with each blow, rolling to try and dislodge her.  Over and over they tumbled, the dagger fell from her grip and the creature began to leap about angrily, swatting at her with its tail.  Chris realised how she could beat her foe.  Keeping an eye on the club-like tail, she noted the way it twitched just before it swung.  She watched for the twitch, shifting slightly to avoid it and flinching every time it bit into her or the beast.  On a particularly strong thrust, she leapt from its back and before it realised what had happened, the spikes of its tail bit deep into its back.  The monster let out a loud agonised howl as it staggered then fell, dead.

Chris stumbled also; drinking deeply from the bottle on her hip she staggered to collect her weapons and pack before wearily walking to seat herself beneath a strong oak.  Re-sheathing the knives, after wiping them clean, she glanced at the bloody corpse of the walfien.  She carefully placed the pack beside her and leaned back against the tree, trying to calm herself.

Yea I can see things that could be greatly improved too, but hey I was 14 when I wrote that . The story continues here.