Split Blood: Rise of the Wolf (Book #2) - COMPLETE

CHAPTER 1 - THE RAGE WITHIN (Part 4)

CHAPTER ONE – THE RAGE WITHIN

(Part Four)

After three weeks of being in this town, rummaging through restaurants and shops’ dustbins for food, maybe this was a sign that things were looking up.

I paused on that thought as the cook brought the food over instead of the snobby cashier. ‘Enjoy your meal, little dude,’ he said kindly as I nodded, eager for his departure so I could taste the much needed juicy meat in my yearning mouth.

The tender flesh was torn, slashed and devoured within seconds as I gulped down the fizzy accompaniment and shoved the fries in my mouth, handfuls at a time.

Although the beef burger was not my favourite piece of meat, I knew I couldn’t risk hunting for deer again tonight as last night was too close to the farmer’s gun to jeopardise losing a limb or, even worse, my life.

Relaxing after my meal, I remembered how great it felt to sneak around my target, as the adrenaline pumped through my veins. I would smell the air to gage the gender of my prey (females were more tender as long as they were not in the mating season) and make the chase a little more interesting by letting my dinner know I was there so I could build up my appetite.

Giving the doe a head start, I would give chase for a few minutes before diving onto its back and sinking my teeth into its spine, paralysing it, to allow me to rip the tender backstrap meat from the side of its vertebrae as I indulged on the warm blood that I relished soaking my snout in as I licked the ruby liquid out of the wound as it acted as the gravy to my evening meal of venison steak.

Devouring as much of the doe’s meat as possible before a hunter, or another pack, caught a whiff of the scent of blood and came running, I would use my final seconds to enjoy licking the remains of the warm, thick, metallic blood from the carcass before sharpening my teeth on the exposed bone and departing the blood scene, feeling satisfied, free and exhilarated.

Excited by my daydream, I accidentally dropped a few fries on the ground, making the snooty cashier look at me with disgust as she served a mother and her toddler. ‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you any table manners?’ she shouted as the customer edged away from my table, not wanting to be associated with a scruff.

Looking up from the carnage that was my food tray, I realised this town was not going to be easy to fit into or to gain friends in and I stood up, emptied my tray into the bin and turned to observe the stuck up girl.

Slowly walking over to her, I could feel my anger building uncontrollably, as it does when someone mentions my mother in a derogatory way.

I tried to shake away my natural state coming to greet this self-absorbed cow as I retorted, ‘Sorry, she died before she could teach me how to have manners like yours,’ and with that I pushed over the straws that were neatly placed in a silver container near the cash register and ran out.

Hearing her screams of abuse, I did not stop running until I entered the woods.

Thinking it would be safer to see my enemies before they saw me, I darted up the nearest oak tree trunk like a panther, using my elongated claws, and caught my breath on a sturdy branch as I observed the rest of the woods in the hazy afternoon sun.

Teenage Namuhs occupied one corner of the woods as they experimented with various items to smoke; a few lost orienteering groups walked aimlessly around in circles as their leaders pretended to read their maps confidently; and a group of women huddled together as they foraged for something specific on the ground.

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