I didn’t breathe, didn’t blink. My heart hammered against my ribs, desperate to escape.
They stepped into the clearing. Five of them, at least. One sniffed the air. Another licked its teeth.
I didn’t scream.
I ran.
Branches whipped my face. I registered nothing but the urgent need to escape. Rain pelted down, cold as knives. My feet slipped, then caught. I stumbled. The forest throbbed with sound: my own frantic footsteps, the wet growl of pursuing jaws.
I didn’t look back.
A root snagged my ankle. I went down hard, chest-first into the mud. As I scrambled up, pain flared in my wrist. The wolves were faster. Getting closer.
I burst into a clearing and spun, breath sawing through my lungs.
They’d caught me.
Slow and silent, they circled menacingly, jaws glistening. One took a step forward.
This was it.
I’m dead.
At least, I thought I was.
Because then…
A crack like thunder split the air.
The lead wolf jerked, then crumpled, dead before it hit the ground.
What’s happening?
I didn’t understand. I couldn’t move to catch a glimpse.
Something was in the clearing with us, something massive, moving with smoke and rage. I heard snarling, then screaming, howling.
Sounds of pain.
Notmine.
Another wolf went down, its spine snapped like a twig.
The third turned to flee, but never made it.
Blood sprayed. The air reeked of metal and wet fur. I stood there shaking, paralyzed by the sheer violence.
Then, it was over.
The forest stilled.
The clearing was littered with bodies.
And one shadow still moved.
That’s when I saw him.
He stepped forward slowly.
