Gaze (✔)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Miss Apprehension

Clara yawned, covering her mouth with a glove-clad hand as she followed Wyatt along the snow-covered path. The skies had opened up shortly after she had returned to the tent the previous night, and the gentle pattering of snow against it had been enough to keep her already-frazzled mind awake, jolting from suspicion to suspicion with every sudden gust of wind, each one carrying the promise of a new enemy or and old fear, just waiting for her to surrender to sleep. No, Clara did not sleep that night.

Despite its proximity, they had decided to drive to Stafford and forego the odd looks that they inevitable got for walking straight out of the forest and into town. With each step, the icy breeze seemed to intensify against her cheeks and the car seemed miles further than where they had left it - or perhaps with every step they took, it was moving further away, taunting them. Yes Clara, she thought sarcastically. The car is evil too.

She knew it could be worse, though. She could be in pieces in a motel somewhere, the handiwork of a vengeful Alpha. Still, there was nothing enjoyable about trudging through the snow.

As they rounded a corner of white-dusted shrubs, the frosted car came into sight, its black hull glaring through the wintry blanket that attempted to submerge it. She breathed a sigh of relief and walked a little faster, releasing Wyatt's hand and -

Bang!

The gunshot rang clear - she felt it rush by, inches from her face, felt her heart pause in her chest as if she'd been hit and it was closing up shop. But she felt the air as it whipped through the white, and she heard it hit the tree beside her, and when she landed on her cold ass behind Wyatt, she felt no warm blood gushing out to relieve her from the winter and send her into any fiery pain, or peaceful sleep.

Her ears were still ringing from the bullet's proximity but she knew she had yelled, and she knew Wyatt was growling from the heave of his shoulders and his shaking hands. She thought he would shift - she had never seen his wolf. A part of her was curious - would his clear, kind blue eyes stare back at her, set in fur? Or would he be a stranger - just an animal, cold and unfamiliar, like the ones she used to kill? She had never considered them to be people when they had claws and teeth that could rip her apart with one false move, but she had never known any of the ones she killed in wolf form.

She scrambled to her feet, careful not to slip in the snow, but stayed low as Wyatt charged towards the treeline from which she assumed the bullet had come from.

"Oh my lord -" the voice was a crescendo as her hearing returned, and definitely not Wyatt's. She stood up straight and ran the few steps it took to reach him, just before he tackled a shotgun-wielding - and positively horrified - Henry to the ground.

The shotgun was out of his hands in seconds, landing in the snow just out of arms reach beside them. Feeling a little useless just watching, Clara grabbed the heavy weapon. She'd never fired a shotgun before, but knew how to bluff. She pointed it at Henry, fiddling with the gun as if she could use it. It wasn't too dissimilar to the ones she had owned. She doubted she would be using it, anyway.

"Oh God, oh shit, are you okay?" Henry turned his head, ignoring the low growls of Wyatt above him and staring straight at Clara, almost pointedly ignoring the shotgun in her arms.

"Why the hell did you try to shoot me?" She'd been through enough to know not to trust anyone at their word. When Henry gave a little frown, she stepped closer, pointing the gun in his face so that he couldn't ignore it anymore.

Wyatt stood, allowing the disarmed man to scramble to his feet. "I-I didn't, I swear - are you sure you're alright?" he panted, holding one hand to his heart, covered by layers of bone and skin and plaid, and another outstretched to Clara, his fingers raised as if he were trying to calm her. "I didn't think anybody would be so far out here!"