Rogue

Chapter 7

I look at my branch and sigh.
And I have the nerve to call Damon suicidal.

Blessings please Goddess.

Before I could attempt a very stupid stupid plan, Goddess answered my prayers and a large buck ran in the direction of its doom.

When a loud cry escaped the animal's mouth and the smell of blood became pungent.... I ran like hell.
I long ago dropped the branch as I pushed my legs harder than ever before. Pumping my arms besides me to carry me further, cursing the world for not exercising more and praying to make it through this.

I didn't glance back.
Glancing back was always the worse idea. You'd see something you weren't so fond of, you'd get scared, your heart would speed up, your predator would get excited and then you die.

I should know. Hunting a scared rogue excited any werewolf.

So I didn't glance back. But when the sound of heavy thumps into the earth began to invade my ears, I didn't need to look back for my heart rate to reach to one million.
It was gaining on me. With a cruel speed that not even my wolf could outrun.

I'm going to die.

My hairs stand up at the thought, the steps louder, the tears faster, the fear greater.

I am going to die.

I couldn't even dodge the legs that stretched out and tackled me to the ground. I couldn't escape the pain that shattered through me as the claws sank into my skin, releasing my blood to the atmosphere.

My body hit the ground, hard. Rolling helplessly until my back came in contact with an unfortunate tree. The crack of the bark letting me know the power behind the action. A mind numbing pain echoed through my body, telling the same story of its power.

I force my eyes open, a blurred vision flashing between the sight of the fallen leaves on the ground and a fiery one I'd only seen in my dreams.
I shake my head, pushing myself against the tree as my vision clears. It takes only a second for it to land on it.

I screamed before I could think.

It wasn't a wolf.
It wasn't a rogue.

It was a beast.
A five foot tall beast, that's jagged teeth allowed the spit to drain from its snarling mouth. Its fur was as said to be, patchy in areas where scars and long knife wounds didn't cover it.

I couldn't look it in its eye.
Not with the way my body shook, fear consuming me unapologetically. Tears bleeding their way down my face as it started towards me. My voice was gone, silent sobs only escaping as my battered body tried to push back further against the thing that supported it. My hand feebly pressing against my open wound as blood gushed out of me.

Three steps more and I'd be dead.
Dead without even being able to fight back.

Two steps more and I'd be dead.
Dead without saying goodbye to my family.

One more and I'd be dead.

Trembling I find my eyes raising, willing me to meet those above me.