Prologue

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Pain. Pain is all I know. It twists my insides and writes itself on every nerve in my body. I grit my teeth, refusing to give into it as I pull myself foward. Knowing that if I make a single noise, it's all over. Sitting myself against a rock, I check my injuries. The one on my shoulder stings like a bitch, but it's the slice in the tendons on my calf that worries me. I know that even with my healing abilities, if I don't get to a hospital in time, it might be detrimental. Clasping a hand over the wound on my shoulder I look around, trying to find the pack. What happened to them? They can't be dead, can they? No. Shaking my head, I push those thoughts aside. They're fine, they have to be. I try to remember exactly what happened.

Everything was fine, the plan was going perfectly, but then the hunters showed up. Everything after that is a blur. I remember the arrow entering my shoulder, remember hearing Lydia scream my name from her hiding spot miles away from us, remember bodies falling around me, but I can't remember seeing the boys. A small glimmer of hope flares to life inside me. I pull my self along the ground, knowing I can't stay in one place for two long without being spotted. As I crawl, my hand lands in a pile of blood, and the scent that rises of it shatters the hope inside me. I know that scent better then the back of my hand. Stiles. I cry out in anguish, and slap my hand over my mouth too late. The crack of a branch whips my head around just in time to see the dark shadow appear from behind a tree.

I stare directly at it, too sad and in pain to do anything but watch as the arrow flies toward my face.

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