Claws and Fangs

The Hunt

I'm dead. I'm dead, dead, dead. Six-feet-in-the-ground, tell-my-girl-I-love-her dead.

I shake the unhelpful thoughts of doom out of my head as best I can, but every thud of my beating heart echoes out "dead, dead, dead, dead" like a song on repeat with the pause button broken. And let me tell you, with the kind of fear I'm experiencing right now, that's a lot of thuds on repeat. I press my back to the wall and try to listen for my pursuers, cursing my lungs for keeping me alive so noisily. I might not be the smartest gal around, but I know what puts me at risk. Right now, that very, very long list includes breathing.

Stay calm, stay quiet, stay alive.

The mantra of self-control rings through my head, and I manage to relax a tiny bit. My heart slows ever so slightly from the thundering patter of a prey animal to something more like a fast dance, at the semi-rational pace I need to be able to think. What's first? Right, I have to get my bearings. I look around the abandoned room, casting my senses out into the dark, running through a checklist like my father taught me.

What can I see? Not much. My eyes are those of a nighttime predator, way better than a human as far as I know -- I've rarely come across one -- but... it's dark. Not much to be done about that.

What can I smell? With a single whiff I can tell that there's mold, dust, and asbestos particles drifting in the air -- no wonder this place is abandoned, even I wouldn't stay here longer than I had to -- and... a breath of freshness, probably an open window. A way out, thank the Goddess. Looks like I might not die here after all. Sweet. Okay, back to the list.

What can I hear? I listen closely for the people after me. I doubt the woman will be able to find me, not with the false trail I'd set up and the way she's been fumbling through the tall grass outside, nearly drowning out the wobbly popping and growling of the house as it settles, but the man.... His tracking was admirable from the start, better than any patrol or guard I've come across in my six months of running, and I've had my share of close calls.

There.

A creak. An old house has lots of creaks and groans, but somehow I know it's him. Wolf's intuition is probably a thing, right? I tense, ready to make a dash for the window. It can't be that far away, right? I estimate there's about three seconds before he realizes I'm here, and another three before he finds me. Then one to beg for mercy before I'm dead. So, not a lot of time. I sure picked the wrong territory to wander into tonight. I think I'm in Eclipse, and everyone knows about the reclusive Alpha and his paranoid slaying of nightrunners. It's well within his right as an Alpha, but it's still pretty rude to homeless pups like me. I mean, really, if a kid with no place else to go walked into your backyard, would your first instinct be to kill them? Probably not. Most clans just make us join them, and I've had to sneak away in the night more than once... Not that it did me any favors in the friends department. Alphas don't like things they can't control, and for some reason the usual submission tactics just don't stick with me.

I make a few hasty calculations. I'm on the west side of the second story, crouched in some kind of closet. The window is just down the hall. I think it's around four forty-five a.m., and summer to boot, which gives me an idea. If I can get out of here quickly, I think I can keep them running around until sunrise, and then we will be much more evenly matched. My kind of odds. Let me explain: The wolf side of our kind vanishes as soon as we're hit by sunlight. We call it losing our Howl, and it's a pretty uncomfortable process, like suddenly losing your footing and not being able to get the same balance for a few days. Like vertigo, I guess. I sigh to myself. I'll probably have to draw them out, and that means that I'll have to wait until after the next full moon to feel like myself again. I'm surprised I've gone nearly three weeks without seeing sunlight, and I've got the jaundice to prove it. I've been running rogue for half a year, and that alone has me throwing myself a parade in my head every chance I get, but vitamin D is hard to come by on a scavenger's diet. Beggars can't be choosers, and lately I've been hitting the bottom of the beggar barrel.