Chapter one
Into the Snare
Damian was crouched low in the silent forest, bow firmly in hand and eyes fixed on the stag moving through the shadows ahead of him. It was a magnificent creature, a catch that would no doubt prove his reputation as a skillful hunter…that would make the stress of the hunt worthwhile.
He had been following it for hours, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to finally take it down.
The wind carried the animal's scent towards him…earthy, warm, and alive. It was very close now. He moved forward as quietly as he could, tensed, excited, and barely breathing. This was the moment he lived for…raw instinct, predator against prey.
Very carefully, he selected an arrow and fitted it on his bow. The stag was downwind, oblivious of the danger lurking in the bushes, and gently nibbling away at a clump of grass. Damian lifted himself up a little bit and drew the bowstring back, feeling the rush of adrenaline all over his body. He focused solely on his target until there was nothing in the world but him, the bow, and the stag.
But before he could release the arrow, the calm energy in the atmosphere suddenly changed. It wasn't just a regular change in the wind, it felt more like the feeling right before lightning strikes. His wolf was instantly on alert inside him…Danger was near.
The stag must have felt it too because its head suddenly snapped up, and after briefly sniffing the air and looking around warily, it bolted. Damian's shot flew wide of the mark because of the disturbance, vanishing into the darkness.
He muttered curses in frustration as he lowered his bow. His instincts were calling for caution, but his wounded pride was not paying attention. He had been chasing that stag for too long, and nothing was going to make him turn back.
Ignoring the warning gnawing at the back of his mind, he gave chase.
The stag’s tracks were easy to follow…deep prints boldly visible on the damp soil, and scattered leaves crushed under the stag’s hooves. He moved faster, dodging tree trunks, and pushing his way past tangled bushes.His wolf senses were at their highest now, and his pulse was pounding with the thrill of the chase.
But as moved, he could also smell something else in the wind. It wasn't the scent of the stag or any other prey, it was something more familiar…Wolves.
As the scent grew stronger, Damian forced himself into a halt, panting heavily. He wasn't just getting one scent anymore, it was multiple scents mixed together…feral, unwashed, and bloodthirsty. Rogues.
The first real feeling of dread finally came over him. He had wandered too far from Mistfall territory…Too far from home.
A low growl rumbled from his throat before he forced it back down. Showing fear now would only get him killed faster. He adjusted his grip on the bow, keeping his ears alert for any signs of movement. The rogues weren’t revealing themselves yet, but he could feel them watching and following him.
The stag’s trail suddenly turned left, Damian hesitated for a second before taking it. If he could manage to get to open ground, he would have a better chance of spotting an attack before it happened.
A twig snapped to his right and he turned immediately with his bow half raised, but saw nothing…only shadows. The forest swallowed sound too easily here.
Then came another snap…this time from the left. They were closing in.
His wolf called to him to shift, to bare his fangs and fight. But the numbers he was smelling were too much, which meant he could be easily outnumbered and overwhelmed. Their scent was heavier in the air now, meaning they could appear at any moment, so he braced himself for contact.
It didn't take long before the stalkers broke out from the trees…Five fully shifted rogues, eyes burning with hunger and madness. He lifted his bow quickly and sent an arrow straight into the shoulder of the one in front. It yelped at the pain but didn't stop, speeding towards him with powerful claws tearing into the ground.
Seeing that the bow was useless against them, Damian dropped it and shifted immediately with a ferocious snarl to face them head on.
He slammed into the first rogue, sinking his fangs into its side before twisting away to avoid the counterbite. The second one came from behind, but Damian turned and slashed his claws across its muzzle. A third one attacked strangely from below, going after his legs. Damian was quick enough to leap back, inches away from getting bitten.
The rogues were not just attacking him blindly, it seemed more like they were pushing him…probably herding him into a corner to gain an advantage over him.
Damian thought quickly. If they got him in a tight spot, it was certainly over for him. Instead, he dodged two more incoming attacks, then fled in the opposite direction.
His muscles ached as he ran, seeing multiple shadows running on both sides to keep him moving exactly where they wanted him. He could clearly hear their breathing, the heavy pounding of their paws on the ground, and the multiple branches snapping under them.
He pushed himself harder, tearing through the bush in desperation as his breath came in short bursts. He wasn’t running directly from them, he was just trying to outpace whatever plans they had in mind for him.
But the plan was already in place.
The lead rogue surged ahead, cutting him off, and forcing him into a narrow path between two giant oak trees. He tried to change direction, but two more rogues were closing in from behind.
By the time he saw what suddenly appeared in front of him, it was too late.
The ground ahead was wrong. Too smooth, and too clean. His wolf recognized it an instant before his paws hit it…a rope snare, thick and hidden under a cover of leaves.
The moment his weight pressed down on it, the trap snapped shut with brutal force. A whip of tension pulled his legs out from under him, slamming him sideways into the dirt. Before he could react, the rope had tightened quickly, biting into his flesh, and jerking him upward with surprising speed.
He roared, thrashed violently, and clawed at the air as pain burned through his legs. But the trap only pulled him higher, dangling him helplessly above the ground.
The rogues emerged from the shadows again, slowly and deliberately now. There was no need to rush anymore…the prey had been caught. Their bloodthirsty eyes glowed in the dark, and their fangs bared in wicked grins.
One strutted forward, lips curling as it released a low, taunting growl.
Damian’s heart pounded, not with fear, but with the knowledge that this wasn’t just a random random attack…They had been hunting him while he hunted.
The lead rogue came closer, and Damian caught the faintest change in the air again…that same electric charge from before. His wolf snarled viciously.
And then the rogue smiled.
That was the last thing Damian saw before something hard slammed into his skull, and the world went black.