Lone Wolf (First in Lone Wolf Series)

Lone Wolf

"He was a killer, a thing that preyed, living on the things that lived, unaided, alone, by virtue of his own strength and prowess, surviving triumphantly in a hostile environment where only the strong survive."
- Jack London 'The Call of the Wild

Fear. The scent of fear filled his nostrils as his long, leanly muscled legs carried him through the thick night-darkened forest. He could smell the prey up ahead as the human ran for all he was worth.

The wolf laughed at the man’s attempts at escape. The wolf loped easily along behind him, prolonging the chase that it so much enjoyed. The scent of blood was in the air but it wasn’t the wolfs blood or the mans. No, it was innocent blood that the man had spilled. The tiny girls body was still warm at the edge of town and the scent of it only served to further anger the wolf, increasing his blood lust.

Innocent blood has been spilled in his territory and that was something that he could not, would not, allow.

The prey was breathing hard, fast, ragged. His steps were becoming increasingly slower and he stumbled over a root. The wolf nearly shook with anticipation.

It loved the hunt. The kill. Spilling the blood of the monster that had spilled the blood of an innocent.

The wolf could smell the fear and the fatigue. The human was tiring fast. He was nearing the end of his endurance. The wolf was not even breathing hard.

He could see his prey up ahead, stumbling through the darkness as branches tore at his face and thorned bushes tore at his trousers and skin. His blood tickled the wolf’s sensitive nose and suddenly the chase was no longer fun.

The wolf wanted it over. He wanted to sink his teeth into the mans skin. Show him pain. Teach him what happened when you killed innocents in his territory. He might only be a lone wolf, a rogue, without the protection and extra strength of a pack, but he was a force to be reckoned with in his own right and this human had crossed a line.

The wolf let his legs carry him faster, surging forward with power and grace, quickly closing the distance between himself and the winded human. The man turned and let out a scream. He tripped on a large root and went down, turning on his back and staring at the wolf with sheer terror.

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!” he cried out as he kicked and scooted backward across the leaf strewn forest floor.

The wolf smiled, showing his teeth, and then with a low growl he lunged forward and sunk his teeth deep in the murderers throat, letting his warm blood splash across his fur, the soothing liquid rolling down his throat and filling his senses.

He usually tried to satisfy his bloodlust with deer, bear, rabbits and other animals and it was always a treat when he was able to taste the blood of a human, which only happened when one took an innocent life in his territory.

He left the kill without filling his stomach, not wanting to taint his body with meat from such a human, and then set off into the woods to enjoy the last few hours of night he had left. He ran, his long body low to the ground and his powerful legs carrying him quickly through the maze of trees, branches, bushes and roots.

He ran to the top of a ridge and looked down on the sleeping town below. His town. It was quiet this time of night. Kerosene lanterns were lit to illuminate the streets as the townsfolk slumbered peacefully in their beds. All was calm but he knew that when the body of the girl was found in the morning things would not be so peaceful.

Sunrise would be coming in barely over an hour and he had not yet had any sleep so he headed back down into the clearing and the lake where had left his clothes.

He changed back into a man. Tall, lean, muscular and dark in the moonlight. He was covered in blood so he dove into the water to cleanse it and cool his heated skin. The change always left him sweaty and overheated. His blood tended to run hot all the time because of the wolf within him and forcing the change simply served to make it worse.

There was only one night a month, during the full moon when he had to change and any other time he could change at will. Though the wolf fought hard to come free whenever he lost his temper or gave in to passion.

He slipped into his trousers and shirt and headed off at a jog toward home, knowing he’d need some rest before resuming his human life in the morning.