He stares at the mouth of the cave and hopes it does not wake.

He knows it lies just beyond the reach of sight. He cannot hear it breathe. But he knows it breathes. He can not see the reflection in its eyes. But he knows it watches.
He wonders if it still watches in its slumber.

They have said it does not exist. Can not exist. Without him. A parasite of fear that lies in wait of the frightful. He wonders if he exists without it. The sleeping beast.

He can not remember anything before it. He can not imagine anything without it. His heart beats hard in his chest at only the thought. And has never uttered a beat without it there.

His breath has never drawn without the scent.

When he runs he runs from it. When he thinks he thinks of it. Watching. When he hides he hides like the beast. Just beyond the reach of sight.

Staring at the mouth of the cave he prays that it sleeps. Prays that it does not see him leap across the path. But he does not pray that it dies. He knows it is the only thing that keeps him alive.