Chapter Nine
1196 Words
Evelyn left early the next morning, slipping away before the sun had fully crested the treeline. All she left behind was a folded note with a phone number written in careful ink. I tucked it into my nightstand and tried to pretend my world hadn’t tilted on its axis.
I went about my routines. Fed the animals. Checked the fences. Pretended normal still existed.
But the nights had grown wrong.
It started with the animals.
A missing hen.
Then one of the goats.
No blood. No tracks that made sense. Just absence — the kind that pressed in on the chest, heavier than loss.
Mabel had been on edge for days, pacing the fence line with her hackles raised, a low growl always coiled in her chest. Tonight, even the air felt charged, tight against my skin, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
I was sitting by the window when Mabel’s bark split the quiet — sharp, frantic, afraid.
My body moved before my thoughts caught up. I grabbed the rifle and stepped outside.
The smell hit me immediately.
Rot. Wet iron. Something foul and wrong.
Mabel stood rigid near the field, teeth bared toward the far fence. The moon hung low and cold above the mist, turning the grass into silver needles.
Something moved out there.
A hunched shape, twitching unnaturally, its breath coming in wet, ragged gasps. Too big for a coyote. Too quiet for a bear. The stench thickened with every step it took toward us.
“Get back,” I whispered, lifting the rifle.
It turned its head.
Yellow eyes. Glowing. Sick.
Patchy fur clung to raw skin, flesh eaten through as though rot had taken it from the inside out. A wolf — or what remained of one.
Memory slammed into me. Evelyn’s voice. Her warnings.
Rogue.
Mabel barked again and lunged.
“Mabel, no—!”
I fired. The bullet tore into its shoulder, but it barely slowed. It barreled into Mabel, sending her tumbling with a yelp, then turned on me.
I barely had time to chamber another round before it hit.
The impact threw me backward into the dirt, the rifle spinning from my hands. Pain exploded across my ribs as claws ripped into flesh. I screamed, kicked, grabbed fistfuls of matted fur — anything to keep its teeth from my throat.
Its breath was hot and rancid. Saliva splattered my skin. I could hear the rattle in its chest — half growl, half death.
Its teeth sank into my shoulder.
A scream tore from me as instinct surged up from somewhere deep and buried.
Not human.
Not sane.
Fight back.
I slammed my knee into its chest, rolled, snatched the rifle, and brought the stock down hard — once, twice — until it yelped and recoiled. Blood streamed down my arm, slick and warm.
It circled, limping but relentless. Still hungry. Still coming.
“Come on, then!” I shouted hoarsely, lifting the rifle like a staff. “You want a fight?!”
It lunged again.
Too fast.
Teeth sank back into my shoulder. The pain stole the breath from my lungs, white and blinding. Blood poured freely now. The world tilted, edges dimming.
The rogue dragged me down into the mud, pinning me beneath its weight. I could smell my own blood mixing with its rot. My body begged for sleep — for release — but terror clenched hard in my chest.
Because I knew if I let go…
I might not come back the same.
The rogue lunged again.
This time, I didn’t have time to think.
I rolled just as its jaws snapped shut where my throat had been, teeth clacking together with a sound that rattled my bones. Mud soaked into my clothes as I scrambled backward, my hands slipping, my breath coming in panicked gasps.
“Mabel!” I screamed.
She tried to rise, limping badly now, but the rogue wheeled on her with a snarl that promised death.
“No—!”
I threw myself forward without thinking.
The rifle cracked against its skull, the impact jarring my arms to the bone. It reeled, more surprised than hurt, then turned on me with a fury that stole the air from my lungs.
It hit me hard.
Claws raked across my side, tearing fabric and flesh. Pain exploded through me, white and blinding. I hit the ground again, the taste of blood flooding my mouth as my head struck the earth.
The rogue loomed over me, saliva dripping from yellowed teeth, its breath hot and foul. I raised the rifle between us just as its jaws snapped down, teeth scraping the wood inches from my face.
My arms shook.
I couldn’t hold it.
It shoved forward, its weight crushing the air from my chest. My vision darkened at the edges. Panic clawed up my throat, raw and animal.
This is it.
A sound tore from me then—not a scream, not words.
A call.
Something ancient ripped out of my chest and into the night, a plea soaked in terror and instinct and blood.
Please.
The rogue’s teeth sank into my shoulder.
I screamed.
The pain was unbearable—hot, tearing, final. Blood poured down my arm as it shook me like prey, my body slamming uselessly against the ground. I clawed at its face, at its eyes, at anything, but strength was leaving me fast.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, slowing, faltering.
The world began to blur.
Don’t let me die like this.
Then—
The forest answered.
A roar split the night.
Not the sound of an animal.
The sound of judgment.
Movement.
Fast. Heavy.
A blur of silver and black crashed into the rogue, tearing it off me with a snarl that shook the air itself.
I collapsed back, sobbing, vision swimming as two enormous wolves fought — one silver-gray, the other russet. The rogue didn’t stand a chance. Within seconds it was down, twitching, blood darkening the soil.
I tried to crawl away, my hand slipping in the mud. Pain seared everywhere. My vision stuttered.
The silver wolf turned.
The world went silent.
Blue-gray eyes burned into mine, ancient and alive, and something inside me shattered open.
The voice that had haunted my dreams gasped like it had just drawn its first breath.
It’s him.
The silver wolf stepped closer, head low, moonlight rippling through his fur. The russet wolf moved beside him — injured, smaller — but I couldn’t look away from the silver.
Heartbeat to heartbeat, the world pulsed.
I tried to speak. Couldn’t.
Only the voice inside me, trembling and sure.
You’ve found him.
My knees buckled. I hit the ground hard.
The moment our eyes connected, everything inside me—fear, pain, confusion—fell away as something vast and undeniable snapped into place. Recognition slammed through my chest so hard it hurt.
The last thing I felt before darkness claimed me was the silver wolf’s muzzle pressing gently to my neck — not a bite.
A vow.
A claim.
A promise I didn’t yet understand.
And then, softly, "Hold on, little one. I’ve got you."
- Writer
