I held on, my fingernails forcing grooves into the cliff wall. A vine curled round my leg for safekeeping. I hoped I wouldn't need to spring from the rocks and throw myself into empty air. The vine felt strong but I didn’t want to risk it. I was an accountant, not Tarzan.

I could hear them above me, shuffling around like a herd of grazing cows. I knew it was deceptive. They’d tear apart anything living given the chance. Their awful groans filled the forest, their carrion stench polluting the air. They weren’t built for stealth. The living could hear and smell them coming.

Marty said that their sense of smell was superior to ours. They’d lost their human reliance on sight. “They use sound and smell to hunt”, he’d said. I didn’t believe him. Surely their groans hid human sounds. That rotting smell had to mask the scent of any prey. At least, I hoped it did. That way, all I had to be concerned with was keeping out of sight.

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