the border 1

Luna didn't remember the sensation of opening her eyes, she just faded back into reality as she always did. Sleep waved goodbye, as she began to stir. She had cut her shoulder somehow, she had a few bruises but too many to know where they all were. She raised a hand to rub her forehead, to find that the cut was preventing her from doing so. She set that arm down, and used the other one. She lifted her body from the ground into a sitting position, and got an eye-full of her surroundings. Trees, moss, leaves, and grass. It was not an unfamiliar sight to her, she was actually quite used to stuff like this, but the only problem she had was that she didn't have any idea where she was.
She saw forest, and lots of it. Nothing distinguished this forest from any other forest she had seen. It was a forest, and that was how she saw it. She could hear some birds in the distance and if she was quick, she might see some squirrels. Okay, anything else? No, just forest.
Luna's hand immediately went to her belt to check if her gun was still there. Sure enough, her hand ran over the cold, reassuring metal of her trusty hand gun, the one her mother gave her for protection. So she had some comfort. She summoned up what little strength she had and lifted herself off the ground with her legs. She rose to her full height, and dusted the dirt off her pants. Her once clean grey belted trousers were now dirty and grass-stained. She sighed in annoyance, that would be hard to scrub off.
She took a step forward, then another. Her legs weren't very much damaged, so that was one good thing, beside a million bad things. She pulled up her pants, tucked in her shirt, and began her quest for something she wasn't even sure she would find. She hoped she would find a village or something; somewhere where she could find a vehicle of sorts, and then finish what she started. She took a few steps, stopped to grasp the stinging cut on her shoulder, and then continued. She was thirsty, and what an inconvenient time for such needs. Where would she find water?
She heard rustling in the trees, probably a bird or a squirrel. She would hear it often, and the paranoid side of her brain convinced her she was being watched. She would try to ignore the rustling that seemed to be following her, only to grow more and more paranoid. Whenever she stopped to look behind her, the rustling would stop, but whenever she ignored it, it would only continue.
The only thing to distract her from the sounds was the cut on her shoulder, which also looked like a slice or a stab wound. Something from a knife, though she couldn't recall being cut. It vomited up blood and the blood ran down her arm. She had heard that if you put pressure on a wound it would stop the bleeding, but this was taking a while. Maybe she wasn't pressing hard enough. She wondered if there was some kind of plant around her that would help.
rustle rustle.
She, rather than turning, continued on without acknowledging the sound. It did not continue, which somehow made her uneasy. She felt like something was breathing on her shoulder. Paranoia, a common symptom of being alone in a forest, and probably bleeding to death. Whatever was following her, though it made no noise now, was getting closer. Too close for comfort. She was afraid to turn around. She kept walking and placed her hand delicately on her gun.
In one swift moment, she swallowed the lump in her throat and whipped around one hundred eighty degrees. Nothing, not surprisingly. She turned back around to find eight bulbous eyes staring back at her. They were completely white, absent of any hue or shade; just white. Luna jolted back and found herself tripping over her own feet, then falling to the ground with a thud.
A spider. She hated spiders. This one was huge, big enough to overpower an angry bull. It was black as night, hairy and fat. Its fangs dripped with hot, fresh venom. Poison. Death. She cringed, feeling her stomach churn as the spider raised its two front legs; ready to strike. Luna squeezed her eyes shut, as fear circulated throughout her entire body. From her finger tips to her toes. Arachnophobia, what a way to go. Too scared to reach for her own weapon, pathetic. she thought.
A low hiss, barely audible. Then, a splat, like squeezing a fruit too hard and making it explode. Had it struck her? Was she dead? The smell, the smell of innards sprayed all over the area surrounding her. surely it had struck her, ripped her body to a million pieces. No.