Evading the wolves book 1

Unravels

I was scavenging one day in neighborhoods already raided and destroyed by the werewolves. Piles of burned bodies linger in the landscape.

Pillaging for any available resources that possibly were in the houses and gathering the amount I could quickly and easily carry, I made my way back to my small, hidden cave on a medium-sized cliffside. I had already killed a squirrel before this.

I knew I wouldn't be hungry tonight, thankfully. Some nights,  more often than not I wasn't so lucky. The brisk, cool autumn breeze blew softly on my exposed skin. Shivering slightly, I ran my hand up my arms as if to capture the little bit of body heat I had. My boots crunch the brown leaves that carpet the ground.

I made it to my camp and prepared my food, making quick work as I was hungry. My belly was full and my thirst quenched. I sleep with my head propped on my bag, my campfire lightly flickering, almost completely hidden by the surrounding cover.

My eyes slowly flicker closed, and I fall into sleep, always alert for possible danger. I've had several close calls, but thankfully they just can't smell me. I know if they somehow ever saw or heard me, I'd be a goner, for sure.

My eyes open, and I begin my daily routine. I put out my fire and went hunting, hoping I'd catch a duck or something to satisfy my hunger, which I knew I'd be expecting later. I noticed two small birds appearing to be dancing in the sky. I shake my head and continue deeper and deeper into the woods. Unbeknownst to me, I wasn't alone.

I walk for about 30 minutes when I hear some snarls and whimpers off in the distance. I stop, and my heart quickens its pace as I shoot off in the opposite direction, slowly and agilely creeping behind any covers. I could find my senses seemingly moving in flight or fight response. When I hide in a bush and seven large wolves run past me, I hold my breath and close my eyes frightfully.

I opened my eyes and saw a wolf who was a good head taller than the wolves who accompanied him start smelling the air and stopping dead in its tracks. The other six wolves stop and watch him questioningly. Their heads darted to the sounds of the whimpering of another wolf further off in the distance.

He smells the air again and smells deep where I had just been standing moments earlier. Howling deeply, the other wolves run in the opposite direction, leaving him as he howls in delight.

He was certain he had found the smell he had longed to find.

After 150 werewolf years had passed his other mate and child died during childbirth. The smell hit him like a ton of bricks. He knows the smell from anywhere and how he must find the source. He'd stop at nothing until he had her.