Traumatised Tim

Chapter Nineteen

Aliysha had not had to wait very patiently for his turn in the fight either. They came towards him jeering, laughing at his weak, weapon-less form and they looked to his pack and sniggered amongst themselves as they ever advanced towards him.

                He had the last laugh because in that moment he did the most extraordinary thing amongst the wolf species. He tapped into the wolf instinct of strength and size. He let the bones inside his body grow and lengthen but controlled it so they didn’t progress into wolf form but stayed human in shape. His muscles however bulged. Hair sprouted on his arms, not as much as a wolf, but it looked like a layer of hair was coating his body. He grew half his size again until he stood about nine and a half feet tall. He was the tallest but even the smallest of his pack was still almost eight feet. Like little giants the Cicatrices wolves towered over the enemies, stopping them in their tracks for a good few seconds before they realised that they could not turn back and so carried on with their assault.

                The Cicatrices had the power to fight on human legs and as they bent down they swung their massive arms; the bulky and heavy muscles collided with any in their way, knocking them down, swiping at the wayward pack and hurling them feet in the air so they landed harshly on the floor. They walked forward a little with a bounce to their steps as their elongated legs tried to both stay human and develop the wolfish bend. They swung their arms and kicked their legs and reached down with their mouths to bite at any exposed flesh with their piercing teeth. They roared like wolves and shouted orders with low, deep and gruff voices – a combination of human vocal cords and the added wolven cords as well.

                Soon the sounded of angry enemy wolves was loud around the compound, they hadn’t liked their surprise mutant pack and they didn’t like having to try and outwit them. Myco back at the entrance was gate was overcome. Front line meant he had barely a minute to himself as he tried to push back to the horde of wolves and men but he was soon surrounded by them on all sides and was forced to constantly turn in circles to catch any attacks.

                Myco was never one to love the fight, he had never incited a war but he had unfortunately had to fight at times to protect his pack. He took little pleasure in it but at the same time he was very good. He father had raised him to a strong wolf and determined leader, so now on the front line he was an apt wolf for such a challenge despite him soon realising the compound was overrun with the enemies. He heard the building being beat at and pulled apart as best as possible. He heard cutlery and plates smashing, windows were put through and the steel shutters of the safe house were being ripped from their mechanical holders but they were not having much luck. All around brick was being chipped and the gravel constantly being kicked up, the sharp stones hit out at people, scrapping and scratching at their legs and the small of their backs. It became a hindrance now as the wayward pack picked them up and hurled them around, aiming for eyes and trying to hit them out.

                Myco felt claws slid across his back and he turned, roared in anger and snapping his jaws. But it was too late, he felt the searing burning pain of a bullet in his back paw and another on his hind leg. He fell to the right instantly and a whip lashed his back. Another one lashed around his neck, the thong of it resting on his windpipe, the coil was curled around his neck and stayed there. A punishing weight on his back held him to the floor and soon he was pinned, his paws unable to twitch even.

                He looked up and glanced about the compound to how the rest of his pack were doing on the front line. He heart beat hard, he saw matted fur not inches from his face. He recognised that beautiful shade of grey, it was dark, bordering on becoming black. He saw crimson pooling underneath the wolf who was one of his. Twisting his head, the coiled whip tightened as he did so, he saw his pack were still fighting, their snarls still sounding loudly around him. He saw another of his own fall and he closed his eyes as a round of bullet were let loose and he saw the twitching of shot wolves. Another wolf fell on top of his back knocking the wind from his lungs and as the whip was pulled harder to choke him, no more air would relieve his empty lungs. He tried to push up with his legs but the lack of air finally got to him and he felt his eyelids closing… For one minute, with blurred eyes and his violently juddering body he thought he saw another familiar face. One he knew very well, too well. He thought for a second he might be saved, that the body belonging to that face would come for him and save him from death but another wolf launched on top of him breaking his left leg and as he growled out a cry the enemy surrounded him, blocking that familiar face from view. It was too late. He could breath, the pain was far too much and he felt his body losing every ounce of strength, going limp. He did not want to die in wolf form. With the last remaining strength he had in his body he let him body make the change and he lay on the floor, the wounds terrible now for his smaller body. The weight of the wolves was also too much for his smaller muscles and it took only seconds before he succumbed to the inevitable…