Unedited.
Will define what the weapons are.
Gliding through Keystone State Park like they belonged, Olympe and Tiberius walked on in silence. It had been days since they had spoken last, Olympe uninterested in speaking to a single soul, while Tiberius was wary of going near her in fear of invoking her wrath once more. Although she was pissed at the male, he held out hope that she would not cross the line that separated his loyalties and kill his mate in her spur of vengeance. But if the dominant wolf did, he'd have no choice but fight against her in the playing field.
Olympe was in a world of her own, brooding silently among herself. Millions of things ran through her head in the moment. Like an old film slowly flickering to the next slide, blood and gore splattered itself against her vision, clinging to her inner eye. Archaic technics of torture. Devious urges to see primordial blood to be spilled across beautiful flooring, causing a magnificent coloration.
She twitched.
Forcing herself to relax, she stopped. Placing her hands on her hips, she breathed in the air, flaring her nostrils. Although the area seemed familiar, it was not much to go on, since almost all forests looked the same. Digging a steel-toed boot into the soft ground, she absently minded swatted at flies.
Doing a full 360 degrees, she found not a single one of her markers. Huffing, slightly frustrated, she trekked on, with the male wolf trudging warily behind her. Olympe had no time to waste. It was only a week after the unfortunate death of mate, meaning they had not yet burned his body for the ceremonial pyre. Many Wolves frowned upon the practice, the only the truly high ranked wolves use it. Most believe that the body and soul would be at rest in their true home, and a good proportion of the one's who would bury their loved ones in a forest would plant a tree on top of the grave that best suited the decease's personality.
Sighing out briefly through her nose, she began to jog through the forest at a normal speed, allowing her vision to become enhanced, searching the lands for her familiar mark while running.
Pumping her legs faster, she broke out into a sprint. Gracefully bounding over fallen, rotting trees. Ducking under thick branches and dodging trees. Olympe skidded to a halt. Her breathing ragged, the sun was beginning to set, keying her in on how long it had been since she started running. Tilting her head back, she squinted through the soft sunlight that managed to slip through the heavy canopies above her, twinkling down on her face, creating a soft glow. Placing her hands on her hips, she blew out strand of hair out of her face.
The female stayed in that position until she heard the heavy footfalls of the careless male approach her.
"A-alpha?" He stuttered hesitantly. Though he was much taller than the femme wolf's five foot two inches, her personality made her twice her size. Intimidation caused him to keep several meters between them.
"It is here." Tiberius had no clue as to what the female was looking for. But she seemed hellbent on finding it. He watched in slight fear as her eyes blaze a fiery grey.
Gently raising her for finger to trace the old carving on the tree, she slowly dropped to her knees. She began to dig with her fingers, uncaring of the dirt that clumped up underneath them. Through the exposed roots, she dug and dug, until the ground gave way. With her nails stained brown, she pulled out a red bag.
Ever so slowly, she opened it. Her eyes blazed with hunger as she took in its contents. A beauty of a weapon, a Heckler & Koch MP5. Round after round of ammunition along with the skillfully crafted gun. Moving the powerful weapon aside, revealed more destructive weaponry. A Karambit, a pair of Chakrams, and a Katana. A crooked, mirthful smile etched across her scarred face.
Tiberius watched warily a few feet away from her, brown eyes full of worry. Walking towards her, e stopped a meter away. Carefully peeking over her shoulder, he watched as she pulled out weapon after weapon. The arsenal ranged from anything from guns to swords to knives. His face paled as he thought of all the blood to be spilled in the following days. Then and there he decided who's team he'd be batting for.
Turning to the male, she leered at him, observing his shaken stance. Running her tongue across her teeth, she felt them sharpen into those of her wolf's.
"Take me to the Council."
§
As she paced along the edge of her deceased mate's territory, her territory, Olympe found herself calm and rational. With the hand gun strapped to her thigh and the pair of Chakrams in a halter that wrapped around her torso. With the katana sheathed, she twirled a Karambit in each hand.
The world around her moved slowly as she stepped into her lands. Hastily walking with purpose, she scented no patrolling Enforcers. It aggravated her to no end when she learned that the Council members took refuge in Romulus' home, her home.
Territory was a major thing in Wolf culture, encroaching on another's lands was something that usually did not happen that often unless a new alpha is in the midsts of evolving, taking lands for his or her pack.
Snarling a breath of air out, she became more alert the further she found herself in the territory. The mere thought of fighting her way into her male's territory had her prickling. The bastards could have had the decency to take their shameful business elsewhere.
Soft giggles stopped her in her tracks. Syncing with the shadows around her, Olympe watched as a trio of pups came bounding through the bramble, blissfully unaware of the mortal danger that surrounded them. Naive pups, innocent pups. Too young to know how to use their heightened senses to their fullest advantage.
Keen eyes watched as they bound through the brush, and long after they disappeared from sight. It wasn't until she heard them no longer did she continue on once more.
Carefully treading through fallen limbs and other natural debris, Olympe counted her breaths until she met an obstacle in her path towards destruction. A vaguely familiar face that contorts with awe.
Suddenly she appeared in front of the male, grabbing him tightly by the throat. Yanking him down by his neck, she tightened her grip significantly until his caramel skin gave off a purplish hue, his eyes wide with fear. His strength was no match for a female on a hell path.
"Where are they, male?" She threw him harshly to the ground, hovering over him, making sure he did not try to slip away.
Through his sputtering and hacking, she caught his words.
"Everywhere. My Queen." She growled with self satisfaction.
Crouching down to the male's side, she smoothed his hair back comfortingly before grabbing his head between her palm and slamming it back down onto the ground. She drug his unconscious body into thick brush, hazardously kicking the rich soil onto his body, masking his scent.
Hearing the whimper behind her, she turned her neck. Tiberius nervously clutched his hands, wringing them.
"W-was that necessary? I mean, what did the man do to you other than having a peanut shaped head?" He rambled anxiously.
She cracked a smile, causing her scars to stretch across her face, creating a horrifyingly beautiful picture.
"Trust me, it was."
"It was what? Necessary or he had a peanut shaped head?" Tiberius inquired. Shifting on his feet, he glanced around warily.
"Both."
She started towards the castle once more, eager to see blood stain beautiful decor.
"Fuck me sideways." She heard the male whisper harshly underneath his breath. With a shake of her head, she never looked back, continuously scanning her surroundings for any indications for a Wolf.
Tapping the blades against her thighs as she walked, Olympe thought about what she was about to walk into as a strange buzzing sensation crawled around in her sternum. There was a bitter, burning smell that lingered in the air, irritating her nose, making it crinkle in discomfort. Very few times had she ever smelt it. Maybe once or twice. And each instance, hell always broke loose once the semi-cracked door was opened wide.
The air reeked of black magic.
Her lips pulled down, hands curled into tight fists. Grey eyes blinked rapidly, trying to rid her system of the revolting stench, Olympe whimpered softly. Fear gripped her tightly between its harsh hands, squeezing her until not a single breath was left. But with that fear come hope, though only time could tell.
Alpha," listening to the male behind her, her brow furrowed in confusion at how choked his voice sounded. Turning to him she witnessed the first teardrop fall.
Immediately she sensed something was off. Her eyes searched the trees around them, picking apart trees, burning into thick bramble and weeds.
"I-I'm so s-sorry," the subordinate male hiccuped.
That was when she heard the growls.
Although a ways from her, it was close enough to scent them. The foul odor of dominant wolves surrounded her, the scent did not sit well with her, being an alpha herself. Looking back at the male she lunged at him, her intents clear as day, she knew what he did. Olympe had figured the weak, but sly little shit would do something like this. He had a knack for pussing out on the team that he thought would lose.
Taking the pistol from its holder on her thigh, she blew a hole in his skull, not wanting an explanation.
The meaty brain particles blew everywhere.
An anguished howl rang out nearby.
And the female was ready once more. Ready to deliver fate's death blow once more, to end the wolves who dared to defy her, to end the ones who thought she was nothing more than a simple minded female wolf who was led to them by the death of her male.
Licking her lips, she bent her knees slightly, putting away the pistol. Drawing the double-handed sword, she held it steady and true.
The first wolf broke through the brush with malicious intent. It's dark brown coat shimmered in the light that streamed through the canopies above, highlighting the brown eyes full of anger. But there was no sadness, this was not Tiberius' mate.
Raising the katana, it came down in a graceful arch, effectively slicing through skin, muscle and bone. It's head came off with a wet plop. Before the wolf head could hit the forest floor, the rest of the pack had caught up with the scout. All seven of them.
Each one snapped and snarled at one another, all wanting to be the one to draw first blood. Preoccupied with arguing, she dove straight into their bickering tussle, hacking and whacking at the disorderly union. Focusing on the threat before her, she did not pay mind to what came in behind her. With her concentration on ridding the wolves, a pair slinked in on her blind side, going unnoticed until one's teeth sunk into her calf.
A pained yelp crossed with a growl crawl out of her throat. Shaking the wolf off of her, she kicked in its face while impaling another through the bottom of it's jaw as it came for her face. Whirling around, she was met with two large enforcer males. Drool dripping out of open maws, stance wide, head and ear down, they were ready for a fight.
A deranged cackle drawled out from her vocal cords, grabbing the last wolf from the original group by the scruff as it tried to come at her from the side, she bit into its neck, ripping out tissue and capillaries. It's chest rose with a heavy breath and fell only to never rise again.
Dropping the wolf with a heavy thunk, she watched the male's with hooded eyes. The display of dominance had riled the males up.
The slightly large, lighter male lunged for her and the other rounded to her back side. Slicing the katana upwards she caught the first male on his soft underbelly, making him fall back with a distraught whimper. Before whirling around to face the other, Olympe caught the sight of intestines dangling out of a good foot and a half long wound. Fear lingered in its eyes. The true fear of death.
She was too late as the male came for her. A millisecond late. He latched onto her shoulder and clavicle with vigor, yanking her down with him, dragging her across the ground as he shook his head violently. Caught between and hard place and a rock, she scrambled for one of her knives. Bloodied hands slipped on the handle, but had it nonetheless. The hooked dagger easily sliced through the thick fur that covered the male's neck. Yet it did not let go. Yanking it out, she went for the wolf's eyes. Immediately it let go, blood poured from its various wounds yet it had not fallen.
"Shit." She groaned.
Flashing onto her feet, she lunged for him, driving the blade through thick bone on his skull cap, crashing into its brain. An effective, immediate death.
Sitting so still and so quiet, Olympe was surrounded by carcass after carcass and found nothing wrong with that. With blood pouring out of her wound, she glowered, angry at herself for becoming so careless when she fought. She had become distracted, It was a childish mistake, a mistake that could not be made. It damn near cost her her life.
Furrowing her brows, she looked to her shoulder, nearly blanching at the the torn, raggedy flesh that barely clung to her muscle. Swallowing, she pried her eyes away from the grotesque sight and searched the area for clothing. And Tiberius was the only clothing clad one in the surrounding area that would never need clothes again. Groaning as she clambered ponderously to her feet, she stumbled to the fallen wolf.
Ripping off a good portion of his shirt, she wrapped it around her single major wound, the rest would be fine. Gritting her teeth as she pulled the material tightly into a knot, she flexed her arm and stretched, nearly shrieking with pain. Olympe knew she would have to work through the kinks if she would accomplish what she came for. She was Olympe Thames Tryker, she was more than capable of doing so, even more so now that she was truly unchained.
§
Grey eyes lurked behind the edges of the forest, pacing restlessly as the beautifully constructed palace came into her view, allowing its true queen to see it. Her neck ached as she watched the servants milled around the grounds, a delicious burn that made something stir within herself.
A pink tongue darted out to lick at blood crusted lips, nostrils flared. She was assaulted by a heavenly scent, a scent that drove her wild. With wild eyes, Olympe searched the grounds for something that she knew would not be there. The scent was old, stale but still noticeable. But it had be altered. It smelled of grief, of pain, of true, unadulterated sorrow.
Her heart clenched and stretched, accommodating for the pain she felt. Blinking away a rush of burning tears, she gathered herself, smoothing down her hair, patting her body lightly, checking for her weapons.
Silently drawing her katana, she wiped the bloodstained blade on the darkness of her jeans. The grey of her shirt was ruined, the dark red pigments of blood had seeped through the reenforced jacket she had worn, being no match for a deranged, grief driven male wolf.
Now there was only eleven members left.
Olympe mentally grabbed hold of the thought and focused on it, ignoring the raging train that circled around her head with one heart breaking name on repeat.
Dark gray eyes looked to the horizon. The sun was starting to go down, the servants heading inside. But it wasn't time. Not yet. She wanted to become one with the darkness that she would walk in. Become a shadow, a wisp bringing only death to the Wolves that ripped her world apart.
Traveling a bit into the woods, she found her solace in the heights of a redwood, with the palace still in sight.
Slowly but surely, the sun went down and the moon rose. And with it, silver eyes began to shine, woken at the promise of death and decay.
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I truly hoped y'all enjoyed that. Y'all better, damn. I worked my ass off to write this chapter, between writing papers and studying its been kinda hard, so I hope y'all understand.
Unchained will be ending in a few chapters (about 3-5)
Katana - traditional Japanese sword, held by two hands.
Chakram - a throwing disc with sharp blades, kind of like a boomerang but far more dangerous.
Karambit - curved knife resembling a claw.
Heckler & Koch MP5 - basically a bad ass pistol.
Comment. Vote. Love goats.