THE WOLF’S CURSE

Chapter 12

Alec

The wolf’s teeth sink deeper into my hand, the pain sharp and searing, and I let out a strangled cry. My free hand claws at the ground, searching for something, anything, to fight back with. My fingers close around a rock, and without thinking, I swing it as hard as I can.

The rock connects with the wolf’s head, and it lets out a yelp, releasing my hand and stumbling back. I don’t waste a second—I kick out with my legs, my boot hitting its side and sending it sprawling.

But it’s not over.

The wolf snarls, its glowing eyes locking onto mine, and I know it’s about to lunge again. My heart is pounding, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and I scramble backward, my injured hand throbbing.

Just as the wolf leaps, something streaks in front of me, a blur of white fur and snarling teeth. It slams into the dark wolf, knocking it off course, and the two of them tumble to the ground in a whirl of growls and snapping jaws.

I blink, my mind struggling to process what’s happening. I’m still clutching my phone, the flashlight trembling in my shaking hand. I focus the beam on the white wolf, its massive form standing between me and the dark one.

My heart is beating so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. Is this white wolf chasing the other one away so it can finish me off instead? Is it the leader of the pack?

The dark wolf growls, low and menacing, and the white wolf responds with a snarl that sends chills down my spine. For a moment, they just stand there, staring each other down, their bodies tense and ready to strike.

And then they attack.

The two wolves collide in a frenzy of teeth and claws, their growls echoing through the forest. I don’t wait to see who wins.

In that moment, I find a strength I never knew I had. I kick free of the tangled sleeping bag, my injured hand screaming in protest, and scramble to my feet. My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to move, to run.

I don’t know where I’m going. I don’t know if I’ll even make it out alive. All that matters is getting as far away from those wolves as possible.

I run, stumbling over roots and rocks, the beam of my phone doing little to light the way. The forest is a blur of shadows and shapes, the darkness pressing in around me. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my chest burning with every step, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Somehow, I find it—a dark hollow in the rocks, barely visible in the faint light of my phone. I don’t think, just dive inside, my body collapsing to the ground as I push myself into the farthest corner.

The cave is small, the air damp and cold, and I curl into a ball, trying to make myself as small as possible. My heart is pounding, my entire body shaking, and I press a hand to my mouth to stifle the sound of my breathing.

What if they find me here? What if they smell the blood?

The thought sends a fresh wave of terror through me, and I clutch my injured hand to my chest, the pain sharp and unrelenting. I can feel the warmth of blood seeping through my fingers, and I know it’s bad.

Outside, the forest is silent, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. But the silence feels heavy, oppressive, like the calm before a storm.

I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, but the images keep flashing in my mind—the glowing eyes, the snarling teeth, the white wolf standing between me and certain death.

Who was it? Why did it protect me?

I don’t have answers, and right now, I don’t care. All I care about is surviving the night.

Hours pass. At least, I think they do. The faint, low light of morning begins to seep into the cave, turning the oppressive darkness into a dull gray. My teeth are chattering, my body shaking uncontrollably from the cold and the adrenaline still coursing through me. I’ve been sitting here, curled into a ball, holding myself together as best as I can.

My eyelids are heavy, my throat dry and scratchy. I haven’t slept—I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see them—the glowing eyes, the snarling teeth, the white wolf standing between me and death. The fear is too much, too raw, to let myself drift off. What if they find me while I’m unconscious? What if I wake up to those teeth sinking into my throat?

The pain in my hand is getting worse. The burning sensation has spread up my arm, a throbbing ache that makes it hard to think. I glance down at the wound, the blood dried and crusted around the bite marks. I think the bleeding has stopped, but I can’t be sure. My hand is swollen, the skin around the bite red and angry, and I know I need medical attention.

I’ve got a medical kit in my bag, but it’s back at the campsite. If I can get to it, I might be able to clean the wound and stop the infection from spreading. But the thought of leaving the cave, of stepping back into the forest where those wolves are waiting, makes my stomach churn.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves, and glance toward the mouth of the cave. The light is growing stronger, the shadows receding, but the forest still feels dangerous, alive in a way that sets my teeth on edge.

I need to move. I can’t stay here forever.

Slowly, carefully, I push myself to my feet, my legs trembling beneath me. My body feels like it’s been through a war, every muscle aching and stiff, but I force myself to take a step forward. Then another. And another.

The cave is small, the walls rough and damp, and I keep one hand on the rock for support as I make my way toward the entrance. The morning air is crisp and cold, biting at my skin, but it’s a welcome relief from the damp chill of the cave.

I pause at the entrance, my heart pounding as I scan the forest. The trees are still and silent, the only sound the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze. There’s no sign of the wolves, no glowing eyes or snarling teeth, but I know they’re out there. Somewhere.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself, and step out into the open.