Daline had been running forever. Each pump of her legs meant another moment of life stolen from the tearing fangs that sought her flesh. Branches snagged in her blonde hair and thorns tore her thin dress; the forest never ended. The pain was better than feeling the bite that meant no more running ever again—unless it was on four limbs. Blood flowed from her wounds to leave a silver trail on the uneven ground. The beast snorted and panted behind her. Daline limped onward a scream away from death.
She tripped over a root. The wolf snarled and lashed out with its massive paw. It met her scream with too-human laughter. She scrambled away; the wolf paused in its chase to lick up a puddle of blood. With that taste it lost itself and had no thoughts but tearing her apart. Earlier it followed her with a prowling, taunting caution; now the wolf was a mindless hunger. It was getting wilder, but she was becoming more desperate. Each time the moon emerged from the clouds, it provoked the beast to another leap of energy. Each step jarred through Daline’s body and shook her head. Her body was all legs, all fear that she would falter. She sobbed with breath she could not spare. A scream away.
It nipped at Daline’s heels as she ran, and her blood stained its teeth. They broke out of the treeline. She ran like a scared rabbit, and the wolf followed. Its eyes were on her back, its nose was full of her, her blood filled its mouth. It was so close. Within another moment it would slam into her, pin her, fasten its teeth around her neck, and she would never cry out again.
“Now!” the wolf’s quarry screamed. The bite of silver arrows brought the wolf back to its senses. Too late it noticed the walled city. Too late it smelled the soot on the air and tasted the stink of unwashed masses and noticed the lack of cover. A scream away from the city, the werewolf died.
She tripped over a root. The wolf snarled and lashed out with its massive paw. It met her scream with too-human laughter. She scrambled away; the wolf paused in its chase to lick up a puddle of blood. With that taste it lost itself and had no thoughts but tearing her apart. Earlier it followed her with a prowling, taunting caution; now the wolf was a mindless hunger. It was getting wilder, but she was becoming more desperate. Each time the moon emerged from the clouds, it provoked the beast to another leap of energy. Each step jarred through Daline’s body and shook her head. Her body was all legs, all fear that she would falter. She sobbed with breath she could not spare. A scream away.
It nipped at Daline’s heels as she ran, and her blood stained its teeth. They broke out of the treeline. She ran like a scared rabbit, and the wolf followed. Its eyes were on her back, its nose was full of her, her blood filled its mouth. It was so close. Within another moment it would slam into her, pin her, fasten its teeth around her neck, and she would never cry out again.
“Now!” the wolf’s quarry screamed. The bite of silver arrows brought the wolf back to its senses. Too late it noticed the walled city. Too late it smelled the soot on the air and tasted the stink of unwashed masses and noticed the lack of cover. A scream away from the city, the werewolf died.
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