Gaze (✔)

Chapter Twenty-One: Absconders

She relaxed into the leather, spotting a few men in the parking lot as they approached, lost after only a few seconds as their car sped away, accompanied by the tired mutter of: “Shit.”

*     *     *

Only after nearly thirty minutes of frenzied driving did they speak, each still expelling their lingering shock from the world’s rudest awakening.

Clara’s head was pounding and her hair dampened slightly by her own blood. She kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, willing herself not to give into the exhaustion pulling at her eyelids. The claw marks in her side had started to heal – she could feel the pain gradually lessening as her inherited ability kicked in – but it was agony nonetheless.

When she finally got her breathing under control and looked over at Wyatt, she blanched at the gashes marring his bare torso. Dried blood caked his skin, but he didn’t even seem to notice.

“Jesus, Wyatt,” she exclaimed, shocking him out of his silence. He glanced over briefly. She noticed the sweat in his hair, his clenched jaw and flared nostrils – he had to be in pain. “You’re bleeding out!”

“I’m -” Clara gave him a deadpan look before he could say I’m fine. “I’ll heal.” He amended.

“Not fast enough.” She replied swiftly, still eyeing the open cuts. “Pull over.”

He shot her an incredulous look, lifting his hand to gesture at the endless expanse of empty road and forest, lit by the creeping dawn. “We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Still, with an exasperated sigh he slowly drew the car to the edge of the road, which was narrow enough as it was. Although neither of them really expected anyone to drive by.

Clara slid out of the car, leaving it open as she walked around to the back and opened the trunk. She grabbed the first bag she saw, knowing none of them contained any first-aid materials. After a pause and a quick glance around the dim, eerie forest by the road, she reached into a bag she recognised as her own and dug through it until she found her gun.

She dropped the bag once she reached Wyatt, having already swiped a large shirt out of it. He stood leaning against the closed driver’s door with a pained expression that he masked quickly. She stepped around to look at his cuts, wincing slightly at their severity. She pressed the shirt firmly against the bloody mess.

“Where’d that come from?” Wyatt spoke through his teeth, nodding to the poorly concealed gun jammed in her waistband. His hands took her place at his side as he begrudgingly kept the stained shirt in place.

“I got it from my apartment a few weeks ago.” She answered. “Never know when it might come in -”

Clara spun around, the sound of twigs snapping still echoing around her head. She whipped out the gun out of habit, flicking off the safety and pointing blindly towards the trees.

She heard Wyatt’s low chuckle behind her. “Calm down,” he said, a smile in his voice. “It’s nothing.”

Still, she kept it raised. Slowly, she took a few steps into the treeline, her eyes sweeping around the shaded, dense undergrowth. There was nothing there. She turned and started back towards Wyatt. “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little jumpy.”

Her heart skipped a beat as his easy smile dropped – along with the shirt he pressed to his wound. “Clara -”

She spun around before he could finish her name, raising the gun again and firing high into the trees – a warning. Her hands ached with the sudden recoil of the weapon and her ears rang. She took in the sight of two grey wolves stalking slowly forward, neither with their teeth bared. Two more followed, and soon around eight wolves stood staring at them.