Wonderful Pain

Chapter 26: Monster

There was one night when almost everyone was consumed by despair. We had lain down to rest, knowing that every second we spent sleeping, catching up on our spent energy, John was getting farther and farther away. He didn’t need to rest. His energy was not as easily used up as ours.

Roy had opposed the plan to rest, instead insisting on moving forwards. No one said anything, and at first he was rebellious and reluctant, but he drifted back to us eventually. We needed to rest. Our muscles burned like fire, and we were weak. We hadn’t had anything to eat, and if a herd of deer had not been moving nearby, I’m pretty sure that we would have starved.

None of us had wanted to kill the unsuspecting deer, let alone eat the raw, bloodied meat.

But none of us had a choice.

There were multiple times when we thought of giving up, of abandoning our cause, but the Alpha bound us to it so that falling back and accepting defeat was impossible.

Until the day when Chris almost died.

*     *     *

Daniel P.O.V

I was running ahead of the pack as the scout, making sure that the way was clear and that we could cross through. Too many times had we followed the scent, only to discover that it led to someplace uncrossable – places like cliffs, civilization, or unusually deep and dangerous swamps.

The date was…

God, when was it?

April?

May?

With the sun bearing down on us, even through the trees, could it be June already? Or maybe we were nearing the equator…? I had absolutely no idea, by this point.

It was a weirdly sunny day. In this part of the country, wherever we are, it usually rains all the time, and if it doesn’t rain then there’s still heavy overcast.

Not that you can see much through the trees anyways, though. I’m pretty sure that the others had no idea what the weather was like (besides when it was really obvious, like rain or wind), but I was different. I had a sense. Or maybe I was imagining it.

That’s possible too…

I could imagine telling Emma about it; my wacky “sense” for weather. She’d probably just laugh, and say something like, “You’re crazy, wolf boy,” and then smile a lopsided smile…

And then, after that, she’d subconsciously push her soft, sweet-smelling blonde hair out of her face, like she always does when I make her laugh.

No one else notices that. I don’t even think that she does. But I do.

I always do.

Emma loves photography, and she’s always taking pictures of trees and birds and other nature crap. I don’t really have an appreciation for it, but her pictures always turn out amazing. Running through the forest like this? She’d love it. So many trees and beautiful foresty-nature stuff that sometimes the beauty makes me want to puke. Cute little squirrels and “beautiful” scenery? Nah. Gimme some Modern Warfare 3 and some coke instead. The only beauty I have patience for is Emma’s beauty.

I know, I know…weird and sappy…but true. God, there were so many sights; so many experiences I had to share with her when we get back home…

When we get back home.

If we get back home at all.

I growled, still running through the woods, though I had slowed down a bit so that I wasn’t always going at top-speed and wasting the energy that I had gained on one of the rare resting breaks. I shook the thoughts out of my brain furiously and slowed even more, coming to rest by a tree. I lay down, my tail waving in the air, resting my head on my huge paws.