A Wolf At The Door

Neuf

His blood instantly turned to ice in his veins.

His jaw grew slack and his breath started coming out in short, strangled wheezes.

He had to get out of here. He needed to get as far away from here as possible.

Unable to take his eyes off the portrait as he retreated, Olivier cursed himself for staggering right into her den. After all, she had said she lived in a manor within the swamp.

Finally tearing his gaze away from the pair of siblings smiling down at him, he looked down at his shaking hands before him. They were smeared in mud and grime. His robe hadn't fared much better. The hem was in shreds, and several rips and tears punctured the fabric.

From the corner of his eye, a dark silhouette silently stepped into view.

It was standing on two legs.

Olivier barely had time to swallow before the black mass came rushing at him, tackling him to the ground. He writhed frantically in its grasp, screaming as it brought its snout to his face, sniffing him. Yellow canines glistened in its drooling mouth. Furry paws tightened around his body, pinning him roughly to the floor whilst its lower half was mounted between his legs, straddling him.

Its eyes were as hungry as ever.

Olivier cried out, throwing his back towards the portrait. Arielle's painted stare met his, continuing to burn into his soul. All he could do to escape her fiery eyes was to close his own and prepare for what was to come.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the parlor, forcing his eyes open. A hissing sound could be heard, which Olivier noticed was coming from the creature's slightly torn ear. It had turned from him and rose back on its hind legs. Olivier propped himself up on his elbows, trying to see who it was snarling at.

Father Samuel.

He couldn't help but sigh with relief when he saw the man standing there with his gun raised. He was covered in blood from head to toe. A large gash exposed his pink flesh from across his chest. And with each haggard breath he took, he made a wheezing noise.

But he was here and still standing.

However, the beast knew better than to give him another chance to fire. It lunged at the man, sinking its teeth into his neck.

It took only a matter of seconds before his body grew limp in the creature's jaws.

After releasing the man from its mouth, the wolf turned back towards its prey, only to be met with the end of a barrel pointed right at its face. It must have been confused by how the boy had attained the gun since it looked at the corpse at its feet, probably expecting to see the gun in its dead hand. But during the attack, the gun had come loose from Father Samuel's grip and skidded across the floor.

Right into Olivier's hands.

Never once taking its burning gaze off him, the wolf pounced forward just as he pulled the trigger. Its ravenous growl cut short with a whimper as the bullet pierced through its chest and into its heart.

It toppled over Olivier, nearly crushing him with its weight. He could only lie there beneath its mass of fur, waiting for any sort of movement. For any sort of sign this was not yet over.

But the creature did not rise again.

With a great heave, Olivier pushed the beast off of him and struggled to his feet. It was then as he stood upright did he feel the blood dripping down his side.

No...

His palm became wet with the familiar sticky substance as it traced the three claw marks alongside his ribs.

This cannot be...

He took a clumsy step forward, determined to make it out of here.

He was not going to die here. He refused to.

Olivier took a second step and then another, and did not stop until he stumbled out of the manor. All the while, his hand was clutched at his side, never once leaving the scratch.

As soon as the sweltering night air greeted him, Olivier's body buckled inward and collapsed over the front porch. He did not attempt to get back up, only lying there and continuing to bleed. The moonlight caught in his misty eyes, reflecting the same bright orange that had tinted the surrounding darkness.

Seeing the moon above him, so close and so full, he stretched his hand out weakly towards it. His fingers had just started to encircle it before his arm suddenly gave out and fell back down beside him.

With his last conscious breaths, Olivier swore he had nearly grabbed it. He had only needed to have reached a little further.