A/N: Hello again (awkward wave)! Hope this scratches the good old 3 year itch :)
The white wolf lunged in a blur, too fast for eyes to track. The rifle's recoil bit into my shoulder as the blast of artillery vibrated in my eardrums. The werewolf expertly dodged the first round, but the next two shots hit true regardless of evasion. The spray of blood as the bullets struck the monster in shoulder stained the beast's ivory coat black in the moonlight, but did nothing to deter the beast's progression toward me. I had barely enough time to turn the rifle before it was on me, teeth lunging toward my throat. The beast's canines locked on the steel of the rifle, shaking me like a rag doll as its claws dug into my side, dragging a wail of pain from my throat.
With a rapid shake of fangs, the beast managed to rip the rifle from my clenched grip easily, throwing it far out of reach. Before it could turn back for its next bite, my hand stabbed one of my daggers into the creature's neck, eliciting the first sound from the white wolf.
A sharp surprised howl of pain developing into a snarl the promised retribution.
The moment of triumph was short lived because the earth quite literally rumbled under my feet. A shock wave buckled my knees to the ground and the beast fell away from me with a sharp gurgle. We were forced apart from the shifting earth, and my gaze was forced to the sky. A plume of ink rose into the sky, obscuring the outline of the moon.
I scrambled to my feet, my fright increasing as my ability to see anything was distorted by the lack of moonlight. I needed to find the rifle; I needed to get the fuck out of here. Patches of moonlight began to return only to restart the terror.
The demon was before me, towering over me on its hind legs.
The white beast raised one monstrous paw and slapped me across the cracked earth with brutal force. I barely had enough time to take the impact, before the beast was on me again, lunging for my throat. The sight of the creature's teeth sunk into the flesh of my upraised arm ripped a scream of agony from my lips as I felt the bones underneath its grip crack, my forearm twisting at an acutely wrong angle between its teeth.
Its eyes were locked onto mine as it broke my arm with ease, cold emotionless eyes that betrayed no fear and promised death.
Pain. Fear. Helplessness. These feelings scream inside of me, making my vision darken and my whole body shake in horror.
All my strength can accomplish nothing.
Everything I have is not enough.
Before I can think that these would be my final moments, the white wolf was quite literally ripped away from me, teeth dragging out of my arm with enough force to send me sprawling.
Tears uncontrollably well in my eyes as pain throbs through my body and I fight to get my bearings. Through blurred vision, I see the white wolf square off with me again, my blood staining its muzzle and dripping from its elongated fangs as it snarls in my direction.
I try to rise off my front, cradling by broken arm, but movement above me halts my struggles. A dark shadow spreads across the desert above me, blocking out the moonlight as a rumbling growl bites deep into my spine. The white wolf lunges again but the dark shadow moves above me, meeting the Wolf of Agunta in a brutal clash of claws and teeth.
I stare in disbelief as two wolves battle in front of me. The White wolf of a Agunta and a terrible black shadow circle each other with malicious intent. The bright moonlight casts a silver lining over the black creature's gaunt form, separating it from the darkness. Bones protrude from dark fur, shaky legs hold the beast in a fighting stance, hideous scars decorate its body like cruel artwork, and broken teeth snarl back at the White Wolf in challenge.
It couldn't be....
The white wolf lunges, easily knocking the black beast to the ground, but the dark shadow fights back like a soul possessed, using its lower position to drag sharp talons cross the underbelly of the white wolf. Blood sprays across the landscape as the shadow takes more damage without care, fighting back viciously without heed to his own safety. The white beast would win, but the shadow was not going down without causing some damage.
Not him...Not him.
My eyes desperately search the landscape for my rifle, finding the metallic glint of the barrel several feet away. Cradling my broken arm to my chest, I drag myself toward it with my good arm, choking back sobs as my sides scrape the ground. My bloody fingers reach for it, barely touching steel.
I dig my fingers into the earth, pulling myself forward with a cry.
My good hand grips the rifle.
I roll back painfully, leveling the rifle with the elbow of my broken arm and knees. The white wolf has the Monster pinned, ready to make a final strike.
But I made mine first.
I could barely even hear my own breathing from the residual shock of the gun shot, but I knew there were no other sounds. There had been a scuffle, but when the dust settled, the white wolf was unmoving, dark blood pooling over the desert, half of his face obliterated across the sand.
Dead.
Dead.
Movement drew my gaze away from the grotesque aftermath of the white wolf and made me raise the rifle once more.
The dark shadow was slowly dragging itself out from the carcass of the white beast. On shaky legs it stood, looking disoriented before approaching me with a slow unsteady gait.
The blood pounding through my ears was the only sound I could hear as the monster came forward. Memories of this monster chasing me through the rain in bloodlust, making my grip on the rifle tighten. I could remember the Monster's black gaze burning me with such a promise of torture that I was willing to end my own life to escape him.
I would not kill myself now.
He would be the one to die.
I would kill this Monster with my own hands, just like the other.
I was ready to watch the light drain from those bottomless inhuman obsidian pools.
This monster that hunted me.
This monster that ruined me.
This monster that made me helpless.
The monster stumbled and fell just a few feet before me, struggling to pull itself up before falling again. I clenched my teeth as I forced myself to stand, holding the rifle as well as I could with one good hand. The monster stayed down as I approached on shaking legs, only stopping as I came to stand above my oppressor.
My nightmare.
I lifted the rifle, using my shoulder to brace the butt of the gun as I aimed directly over the Monster's head, my finger ready to pull the trigger.
The motion caused the Monster to open its eyes and look up at me.
Our locked gaze made every hair on my body stand on end and restarted the violent shaking of my hand. I was ready to kill the Monster. I was ready to watch his life fade out by my hands, like he had taken everything away from me.
I was ready to kill the Monster.
The Monster.
But the eyes that looked up at me were not the Monster's eyes.
These eyes were soft brown not black.
These eyes were not full of retribution, but were brimming with relief. Relief....
These eyes did not possess me, they just saw me.
Human eyes.
My grip on the rifle faltered, causing my grip to readjust.
No, he was the Monster.
He was the Monster.
I closed my eyes and opened them again, seeing the same human expression stare back at me. Human eyes out of a gaunt, bleeding face. Bones protruding through a hide littered in gruesome scars.
What slumped before me was not the Monster of my nightmares, but something entirely worse.
A pitiful creature.
"No."
I raised the rifle again, gritting my teeth as I steadied my tremoring hand.
"You're a Monster." I snarled at him. "You deserve to die. You deserve this. I did not deserve this. YOUDESERVE THIS!!!" I continued, my voice growing louder with each sentence until I was in hysterics.
My rant was cut off by the creature pressing its head up against the muzzle of the rifle, startling me into silence.
The creature's eyes looked up at me, muzzle resting directly between them.
Full of sorrow. Full of shame. Full of self-loathing.
"Please" the strangled word out of the creature's mouth, made me recoil in shock. "Kill me." It begged before its eyes rolled and it head slumped down into the sand from exhaustion.
Something inside of me broke.
I dropped to my knees, crying soundlessly with the muzzle of the gun still against his head. Muttering, "you deserve this." Over and over, but unable to make myself pull the trigger.
This was basically the position in which John found me.
Bleeding and broken, crying, and mumbling to myself, while holding a rifle firmly against a passed-out werewolf's head, several feet from another's carcass.
I did not even hear him show up beside me, or feel him pry the rifle out of my fingers. I only really realized he was there when he physical pulled my gaze away from the creature with his hands and pressed his forehead against mine.
His voice sounded like an echo in a fishbowl and he held my face and tried to get my attention.
"Breathe Juniper, that's it, breathe" were the first clear words I heard, gasping for breath, all I could do was listen to him. "It's just you and me June, just breathe with me." He instructed, even though he sounded out of breath himself.
"I.... I...I c-can't...." I tried to tell him, but couldn't. I couldn't even breathe to form the words.
"It's ok. Just look at me, ok?" He instructed, continuing to hold my face. I forced my eyes open, looking directly into John's face.
"There you are." He smiled, his face ghostly pale and his breathing almost as ragged as mine, worry clear in his eyes. "Where are you hurt June?" he asked, pulling back slightly to assess me.
"M-my my arm....broken." I managed to choke out, still cradling it awkwardly. "S-s-side slashed."
John nodded quietly, taking in my injuries quickly, muttering to himself lowly.
"We've got to get to the Jeep now, ok. I can patch you up on the way, but we got to move." He insisted, leaning back to shrug out of his jacket before expertly tying it over my chest and shoulder as a makeshift sling. It was only then that I noticed the blood dripping from his shoulder, dripping down his arm.
"Y-you're hurt." I gasped, looking up at him in worry.
"It's minor." He told me, "I heard you scream and tried to circle back to you, but was intercepted by the other scout." He gritted out, frustration clear in his voice.
"Other Scout?" I echoed, remembering the white beast once more. Panic once again filling the pit of my stomach. John grimaced and raised his eyes to the dead werewolf's body.
"They always travel in pairs." He grumbled, quickly lifting the hem of my shirt, and examining the wound on my side. He let out a low curse and hurriedly tore off a strip of my shirt to apply pressure to the wound. "Stay here, for just a moment." He commanded before stepping away from me to assess the rest of the scene. Through blurry vision, I watched him approach the dead werewolf. He knelt over the creature for a moment, seeming to be looking for something. I could not see clearly what he was doing, but I did clock him shoving something into one of his pockets and as he slid a bloody knife back into its holder on this thigh. It was only moments before he was up and approaching the black werewolf at my feet, quickly checking for breathing before rolling him on his side.
"What, what are you doing?" I stammered, suddenly alarmed as he crouched beside the passed-out monster. Like the monster would suddenly jump up and eat his face off in front of me.
"We cannot move him this way. I will have to force a transition." He stated, hurriedly.
"M-move him?" I stammered, feeling my confusion and panic rise further.
Without any warning or explanation, John was hitting the creature. Or at least that was what it looked like he did, his hand landing in quick succession at the back of the head and center of the chest. Like some sort of twisted magic trick, the creature suddenly started to change. With a painful moan the mangled monster jerkily resumed a humanoid shape.
Humanoid.
That was the only way to describe the gaunt looking thing that was left in the beast's place. It was a thing my mind could not make sense of at all, all angles, and shadows.
"What is happening?" my voice was still in the fishbowl, feeling like I was having an out of body experience. John opened his pack and pulled out another jacket, shifting the torso of the thing up and tying the sleeves of the jacket under its arms.
"Can you walk? We must move now Juniper." John demanded, pulling the bottom of the jacket effectively sliding the comatose creature behind him.
All I could do is stare at John blankly. I could not even process what it happening.
He wanted to take it with us.
He wanted to take him with us.
"We can't leave him here Juniper." John said, seeing my disbelieving expression.
The Fuck?
I continued to stand there like a statue, not processing anything going around me.
"Come on Juniper, we have to move NOW." He barked, continuing the out of body experience that I was spinning through. It was like I was in this weird numb plane where nothing really made sense. John unceremoniously dropped the makeshift jacket stretcher and came to put a hand on each side of my face again.
"We must go now. There is will be more of them." He pleaded; his voice was steady but his hands lightly trembled on my cold face. But even as he tried to force by gaze to him, I couldn't stop staring and the unconscious monster on the ground next to us. I felt my head shaking in protest against John's hold.
"We either kill him or take him." John said, forcing my gaze back to him. "If we leave him, they'll use him, Juniper. They will use him as a tracking dog to bring them straight to us. I am sure that's how they found us to start with. Where we have to go, we will probably need the bastard."
"They?"
"The White Wolves, Juniper. These were just a scouting party. There will be more behind them."
The White Wolves of Agunta.
The Beta's words filled by fuzzy brain, again filling me with dread and confusion. The monster that killed my father was after us, after me? Why was this happening? My gaze went back to the white wolf's corpse the blood pooling around it suddenly making me nauseous.
"The beta....he said...Agunta....after me..." I stammered, feeling myself on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
"Juniper, listen to me. This is not your fault. It is my fault. I don't know how they found me, but if they used him, they already know you are connected to me and you are not safe. I must get you somewhere safe."
"Found you? You? No...they are after me, me John. Not you." I ranted, my voice breaking toward the end.
"No Juniper." John said, dropping his hands from my face and looking back at the dead wolf behind us. "These wolves are Agunta's wolves...my father's wolves."
Father's wolves.....Agunta's wolves.....my father's wolves
His father....
Alpha Agunta....
Alpha Agunta killed your father
"Juniper? Juniper?" John's voice continued to call me as my head swam, everything in my mind pounding at once.
Alpha Agunta is his father.
I felt my knees buckle, and John curse as he caught me. My body feeling suddenly heavy and the pain making me feel delirious.
I was hallucinating. I had lost too much blood. That is right. Any minute I'd probably pass our or wake up. This could not be real.
John cursing loudly and trying to pull me to my feet was just a dream. John grabbing me by the arm and dragging both me and the shell of my abuser through the midnight desert was not real.
John forcing me into a passenger seat of a tarp covered jeep and shoving Sean's lifeless body in the back was not real.
John being the son of the monster that killed my father was not real.
It could not be real.
And it was that thought that replayed in my mind over and over as John started the Jeep and drove away from the start of my new nightmare.