Call of the Wild

12 - The Race Home

I'm broken and bleeding from more injuries than I can count, but I do not race for the safety of Mason's car. He emerges and stares uneasily at us all; a mess of crumpled clothes, tousled hair and wild eyes. Robin gets out the passenger side, holding onto the door to steady herself. She's a mess, too. Tears streaming down her face, bruises shadowing her jaw, dark bags beneath her eyes. She looks haunted, traumatised, and I know — to the very core of my soul — that she did not help Axel and his wolves of her own free will.

I limp over to where Axel lies and stand over him as a cool breeze ruffles my fur.

He snarls — catching my scent on the wind — and attempts to rise, but he cannot quite manage it, and he drops to the tarmac with a whine. There's a pool of blood beneath him, seeping steadily across the road. He lies contorted and I know his spine is broken.

I'll kill you, little wolf, he vows, his voice weak as it echoes in my mind. Flickering. I'll hunt you down and I'll make you suffer.

No, I tell him. You will not.

He gives one last shudder before falling still. The light of his fiery rage in my mind goes out, and all is quiet as he slips beyond any help.

He's dead.

The rest of the pack gather around me— watching me warily as though unsure whether to challenge me themselves or give me up as a lost cause. With Axel's rage doused in their own minds, the haze of fury fades.

They look at Axel. They look at Mason and Robin, still watching by the car. And finally, they look at me.

A flicker of understanding— of recognition — lights the brittle connection between us all. Instinctively, I know they're aware that I'm not part of their pack anymore. I've found my own.

As one, they lower themselves to the ground and bow their heads in submission with little whines. A beg for forgiveness.

I step back, caught off-guard as I feel their guilt and their loyalty weaving through my head.

I've accidentally inherited a pack. And damn, their priorities shift quickly. I wonder how much of their rage just now was their own, and how much belonged to Kain and Axel.

I'm not your leader, I manage. They glance up at me, uncertainty flickering behind their eyes as curious whines escape them. I just want you to leave me alone. Find a new pack, or go back to your home, but leave me out of it. I never want to see any of you ever again, do I make myself clear?

The words are weak, pleading, and yet authority laces through the command.

The wolves bow once again. I watch as they rise, turn their backs on me, and trot into the woods until they're out of sight. The connection between us severs, and I know I'm free.

I let out a little victory huff and wag my tail before turning my attention to my new friends.

They've stayed by the car, watching on with uncertainty, but as I glance their way, Mason steps forward.

"Aren," he manages, his voice shuddering.

I start for him, only to crumple beneath the spearing weight of my injuries. Adrenaline fades fast and agony sears through me in its wake. I'm hurt. Badly. Blood glitters across the road beneath a cerulean sky.

I hear Mason dimly, as though from the bottom of a well. "Shit. Robin, help me. Please. There's a first-aid kit in the back. And a blanket. And... well, a knife, but that's not helpful, right now."

Warm hands slide through my fur, and I can smell mint and the sweet spice of aspen on the air. I recognise it at once and know I'm safe— a whine escapes me as my tail thumps weakly against the road.