Moon's Fury; The Wolfless Mate

CHAPTER 4

The forest swallowed the last splinter of light, leaving Becky shrouded in rough darkness. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves, and the only sounds that broke the creepy silence were the howl of unseen animals and the frantic beat of her own heart. She had been wandering for hours now.

Each rustle of leaves, each snap of branch, transferred a shiver down her spine. A constant feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes piercing her back, clung to her like a shadow. She knew that closely out there, amidst the gnarled branches and leaves, something was lurking, something that had taken a morbid interest in her.

Becky knew she should not have ventured this far into the wild. She was out of food, her water was nearly gone, and the smelling wind stupefied her bones. But the fear of returning home, of facing the cold judgment of her own kind, was far less than the fear of the unknown.

Her steps weakened, her legs paining with fatigue. The path ahead was obscured by a thick copse of thorny woods. She felt an unforeseen swell of fear, picturing herself trapped in this suffocating scape, a delicious morsel for whatever lurked in the shadows.

A guttural growl near enough to curdle her blood, ripped through the silence. Becky looked around, her breath catching in her throat. She could smell them now, the musky smell of fur and sweat, their presence evident in the heavy air.

The woods parted, and five large figures surfaced from the darkness. They were monstrous, their faces contorted into grins that revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth. Their bodies were covered in coarse, matted fur, and their eyes glowed an unnatural light in the fading light. They were werewolves, but not the kind of werewolves she had read about in fairytales. These were guileful and rogue werewolves, driven by primitive instincts and a thirst for blood.

The lead wolf, a monstrous beast with a scar running across his face, stepped forward. His eyes were raptorial, his nostrils glaring as he scented the air. He mumbled, a guttural sound that caused a surge of fear crashing over Becky.

She tried to back down, but her legs wouldn't respond. One of the wolves, a huge brute with matted fur, dived forward, seizing her by the arm. His grip was tight, his claws digging deep into her meat.

“Do not struggle, little one.” he snarled, his voice a guttural scrape. “We mean you no harm.” He said.

The words were a tale with the atrocity in their eyes betraying their intentions. They dragged her through the leaves, her riots lost in the rustling leaves. They tied her with rough ropes, the knots binding her so tightly that she felt the blood rushing to her head.

The wolves were a chaotic, undisciplined pack. They fought among themselves, their growls and howls echoing through the forest. Their words were vulgar, their movements jerky and evil. Some of them would approach Becky, their eyes glinting with lust, their hands brushing against her body in ways that made her blood run cold.

“Look at your prize, you fools,” the lead wolf roared, his voice laced with covetousness. “This one will make a fine sacrifice to the Moon Goddess,” he announced.

As they dragged her deeper into the heart of the forest, they began to celebrate, their guttural howling replacing the creepy silence. They talked about the feast that awaited them, about the blood sacrifice that would assuage their goddess.

Becky felt a swell of despair. She was trapped at the mercy of these monstrous brutes. There was no hope and no escape.

And as they neared their settlement, a figure surfaced from the shadows, moving with a royal grace that belied his size. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and his eyes blazed with an intensity that transferred a shiver down the backbones of the werewolves. He was clothed in leather, his movements precise and deadly. It was clear he wasn't with the rogues.

He did not speak, but his bare presence seemed to command silence. The chatter among the werewolves stopped and was replaced by a nervous silence that ran through their numbers.

The foreigner launched himself into the fray, his movements a blur of speed and strength. He took on the wolves with ease, his fists and feet striking with the perfection of a seasoned fighter. He did not need to roar, his eyes alone held the power to inseminate fear.

The wolves fell, one after another, their growls dying down into nothing. Their bodies lay scattered across the forest floor, their movements stilled by the foreigner's grim attack.

He moved like a phantom, leaving a trail of unconscious wolves in his wake. He was a whirlwind of fury, a force of nature unleashed.

Becky watched in affrighted seductiveness. Her captors had been defeated so easily, their strength reduced to bare mortal weakness.

The stranger stood over the last remaining wolf, his eyes boring into the beast's soul. The wolf pulled, trying to crawl away, but the foreigner was too quick. With a single, nippy blow, he ended the rogue's suffering.

He turned to Becky, his eyes softened with a friendly warmth. He approached her sluggishly, his way deliberate and sure.

He knelt beside her, his hands gently unleashing the ropes binding her wrists. He worked with a rehearsed delicacy, his touch unexpectedly gentle.

“Do not worry.” he said, his voice a low grumble. “You are safe now.” He assured.

He stood up, his smile disarming. His eyes held a look that seemed to disband the darkness that had enveloped her.

“My name's Jake,” he said, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Becky goggled at him, her mind reeling. He seemed so different from the monstrous brutes she had just encountered. She could not shake the feeling of apprehension, but she could not help but be drawn to his warmth.

“Becky.” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Well, Becky, I am going to need you to trust me. I know this whole situation was traumatic for you and let's just say it's been a bit of a rough lift. But I promise you, I am going to get you to a safer place, a place where you will be accepted, a place where you can eventually feel at home.” He promised.

He broke down, his eyes searching hers. “Would you trust me to do that?” He asked.

Becky faltered, her eyes darting between Jake's kind eyes and the h*******t surrounding them. She was cautious, but a flicker of hope burned within her. She had no way to know kindness like this, no way felt a sense of safety in the company of a stranger.

“I... I do not know.” she whispered.

“That is okay.” Jake said, his smile unwavering. “I understand. But I am not going to press you. You can decide what you want to do. But I promise you, I will be with you every step of the way. Together, we can find a place where you belong.” he said.

His words were simple, but there was a strength in their sincerity that reverberated with Becky. He'd saved her, and now he offered her hope. She was tired, sick from the trip, and the fear and questions that had consumed her for so long. But Jake's pledge, his unvarying belief in her, was a lamp of light in the suffocating darkness.

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice slightly audible. “I will trust you,” she said.

Jake's smile widened. “That is all I needed to hear. Now, let's get you out of this godforsaken place. There is a whole world out there, Becky. A world where you will find peace." He offered her his hand, and with a small smile, and Becky took it.