Sprinting through the forest, I jumped over fallen trees, ducked underneath low branches, and swerved around trees in my path. My hair stretched out behind me, whipping around as I pumped my arms at my side. My combat boots smacked against the muddy earth while sweat rolled down my forehead, eventually falling away. Running wasn't something I liked to do, though in several cases, it saved my life. Over the howls, I heard my heart hammering in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins, and my uneven, heavy breathing. The she-wolf must've belonged to a pack; I guess she hadn't been a Rogue. Other than being alone, there wasn't any way to tell if a werewolf was one.
I started running farther north, the direction of my home, where my family was at, awaiting my arrival. First, I needed to escape the forest - the werewolves weren't going to chase after me through town, considering they wanted their existence to remain a secret to the human race. But, as I saw something dark and furry cut through the trees to my right, I knew escaping the forest was going to be a challenge. Seemingly impossible speed and strength came with being a werewolf; I should've known it wasn't going to be long until they caught up to me.
Just as I jumped over a fallen tree, a werewolf leaped out of nowhere at me, snapping his teeth. Prepared, I grabbed an arrow from my carrier, ducking out of the way. Though, as he flew past me, I stuck the tip of my arrow out, scraping him along the side. The smell of burning flesh filled my nose and he collapsed to the ground with a yelp. A hint of cockiness overwhelmed me, but it wasn't going to take him long to heal, so I didn't hesitate to continue running. I pumped my arms faster by my sides as I took larger steps. Around me, werewolves sprinted through the trees in blurs at the same pace, slowly caving in closer to me. They were planning on attacking me at the same time; obviously, I was outnumbered.
"Crap," I breathed, realizing I needed to think of a plan, otherwise I was going to die within a few minutes.
I couldn't shoot my bow while running nor did I want to risk wasting my bullets by attempting to shoot a gun while running. There was the risk of being mauled if I stopped and judging by how many were chasing me, I wasn't going to even have time to pull out my gun if I did. Also, there was no reception in the forest, meaning I couldn't contact my father for help. I was left with one option: climb a tree. I highly doubted that they were going to shift into their human forms to climb after me, considering being in their human forms was a vulnerable state for them. They couldn't protect themselves as much as being in their wolf forms. So, I searched for a tree with low branches, thankfully spotting one just ahead - an oak tree. I pushed myself to sprint faster, noticing how they were caving in closer. I fought through the ache in my muscles and choked down mouthfuls of air until I came to a jerking stop at the tree.
With my bow dangling from my shoulder, I grabbed the lowest branch and swung myself up. Frantically, I reached for the next branch, but just as my fingers brushed the sticky surface, the werewolves arrived down below. Several thoughts started rambling through my head when the only snarling reddish-brown male on the ground leaned back onto his hind legs and leaped into the air. I expected him to miss, but his claws managed to connect with my left ankle, tearing away some flesh. A short scream of pain escaped my lips and fighting back the tears, I climbed farther up the tree. The wound was burning, protesting with each branch that I crawled up, but I didn't spare a glance at my injury. When I was positive I was high enough, I flopped down on a thick, heavy limb and carefully tested its sturdiness by bouncing slightly.
When it held, I looked down at the snarling and growling werewolves. Two of them clawed at the trunk of the tree, ripping away some of the bark. All of their eyes, their white pupils, stared up at me, narrowed and filled with hatred. I licked my bottom lip and placed my bow onto the nearest branch, allowing it to balance. Finally picking up the courage, I turned my attention to my wound. It was throbbing and bleeding - a lot. Remembering my father's advice, I ripped the long sleeves of my shirt off, exposing my freckled arms. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this was necessary. Then, I wrapped my sleeves around my ankle tightly, groaning with watery eyes. Believe it or not, but the pain was something I hadn't experienced before. Countless of times, I had scraped or bruised myself, sometimes even got myself knocked unconscious, but nothing I couldn't handle. This pain was horrible, so horrible that it couldn't be compared to anything.
When I finished, I breathed deeply, keeping oxygen running in and out of my lungs to help keep myself from fainting. I glanced down at the werewolves below and a few crouched down and bared their teeth up at me. I needed to put up a fight; I was brave and strong, just like my father. Determined, I grabbed my bow and an arrow from my carrier, putting them into place. But, when I started pulling the string back, I realized that I didn't have a good shot. Branches below were in the way and as I was pulling the string back to my earlobe, a branch poked me in the elbow; I couldn't properly aim. I tried positioning myself differently on the branch, but when it began cracking, I decided not to push it.
Feeling my gun pressed against my back of the waistband of my pants, I pulled it out with a mutter. Shooting bullets was going to be much easier in a tree. Hopefully. I checked the bullets, discovering there were only four left while I counted at least five or six werewolves down below. Hoping to eliminate a few, I studied them, surprised they hadn't scampered away at the sight of my gun. Their desire to kill me was too strong for them to run away now, leaving me to escape - they refused to let that happened. They wanted me dead, but the feeling was mutual. Aiming around a branch, I aimed at the female clawing at the trunk of the tree.
My hands decided to start shaking at the worst time when my index finger lingered on the trigger. A few seconds passed until I finally pulled the trigger, the gunfire ringing through my ears. Sadly, one of the males, a light brown one, ended up bumping her out of the way, allowing the bullet to fly into the dirt of the ground. I groaned and glared down at him, receiving a snarl in response. Shifting my attention away from them, I looked at the rest of the werewolves, spotting a brown male. With his fur bristling, he stood near a white female that reminded me of my earlier kill. He watched the others attempt to reach me, anger rolling off him in waves as he waited for his turn to leap at me.
Turning my arm into an uncomfortable position to get around a large branch, I aimed at him. He didn't even notice until his ears picked up the sound of the firing bullet. He wasn't able to jump completely out of the way and the bullet struck him in the shoulder.
Relief washed over me when he yelped, falling to his haunches. The white female hurried to his side, watching as his body struggled to heal the wound. I expected her to turn around and snarl or growl at me, but instead, she tilted her head back and howled. Her howl caused the female scratching at the trunk of tree to stop and back away with a dangerous look. Confused, I raised my gun again, not stopping now, except, I didn't get the chance to take aim because a loud and powerful howl nearby rang through the air, echoing throughout the forest. Startled birds flew into the sky as the ground shook, slightly shaking the tree. "Fuck me."
It was their Alpha.
I scrambled backwards on the branch until my back was pressed against the trunk of the tree; the bark digging into my crawling skin. Trembling, I held the gun out in front of me with the barrel pointed towards the ground. The smartest thing to do was use my last two bullets on the Alpha because he was the biggest threat - and that was exactly what I was going to do. Honestly, I had never encountered an Alpha before. My older brother, Noah, always told stories about them and described them to me, considering one had nearly took his life. According to him, Alphas were much larger and stronger than regular werewolves. They held power and dominance, always guiding the pack.
Peering down through the branches, I listened to my hammering heart in my chest. The werewolves below had backed away from the tree along with the injured male, yet stood nearby with the urge to still kill me. Several thoughts were running through my head as I suddenly feared for my life. Twenty-one, twenty-two-twenty-three. . .
I was counting the seconds for how long it took until the Alpha appeared. My stomach twisted when a towering black wolf emerged from the trees, growling. I was surprised when a weird tingling feeling spread through me as I watched him approach his pack members who all submissively bowed. Just looking at him, it was obvious power radiated off him, along with anger. With his back was turned to me, I realized this was the perfect opportunity. The perfect shot. Exhaling loudly, I aimed my gun at the back of his head, ignoring the strange feelings overwhelming me.
Just as I was about to pull the trigger, he turned around with a snarl and our eyes locked. A weird sensation shot through me and I squirmed, keeping my gun pointed. For some odd reason, after several seconds had passed, he didn't appear as intimidating. Shaking my head, I returned my index finger to the trigger, prepared to shoot, but then, he slowly started approaching the tree, surprising me.
He gazed up at me with his eyes and I cleared my throat, remaining collected. I aimed the gun at his forehead, impassively. Pull it. But, as my finger rested on the trigger, I realized that I couldn't pull it. Every urge in my body was telling me not to - telling me not to kill him. I bit my bottom lip and repeatedly reminded myself that he was the enemy.
His kind had killed my mother.
"Come on," I muttered, applying a little pressure to the trigger. The bullet didn't fire - I needed to push harder. I sucked in a deep breath and tried applying a little more pressure, but I couldn't. The Alpha continued to gaze at me, watching as I struggled to convince myself into pulling the trigger. Just pull the fucking trigger! My hands started to shake even more until the gun accidentally toppled out of my hold to the ground.
But, that wasn't the worse part - I followed after it.