GRAY DOG

Hunter

Content Warning: This book contains mature content including violence, sexual abuse and assault, addiction, war, imperialism, mental health topics such as panic attacks, PTSD, racism, and religious trauma.

Ethan tore through the undergrowth, lungs screaming for air. Branches lashed at his face, drawing stinging lines of blood. The forest twisted and turned against him, a mockery of his frantic escape. Behind him, a presence lurked. Not a sound, not a rustle, but a prickling unease that gnawed at the edges of his senses.

His legs began to wobble, fatigue dragging at him like a thousand lead weights. He forced himself to a stop, gasping for air. The silence pressed in, broken only by the frantic thudding of his heart. There, in the eerie quiet, he felt the unseen presence falter. Had he... lost it?

Hope, a fragile thing in this desolate landscape, flickered in his chest. He took a tentative step forward, the forest floor crunching beneath his unsteady feet. A misplaced twig, hidden in the gloom, snapped.

The world exploded in pain.

A searing agony ripped through his leg, immobilizing him. He screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed through the ancient trees. The scream, however, was short-lived, morphing into a guttural howl as primal fear wrestled with the physical torment.

The forest remained still, save for the dying echoes of his cry. Then, it came. The sound of heavy boots crunching on leaves. Closer, closer still. Panic clawed at his throat, choking him with a terror that transcended the bear trap now clamped around his leg.

Footsteps stopped in front of him. He craned his neck, the pain a white-hot agony, to see who stood over him. A tall, gaunt figure materialized from the gloom. White hair, like tangled snow, framed a face pale as moonlight. One eye, an icy blue, stared down at him. The other... the other was a cold, mechanical replica, gleaming with an inhuman light.

A raspy voice, aged and rough, spoke. "Dogs shouldn't roam around off their collars," the figure chuckled, the sound like dry leaves rustling in a forgotten crypt.

Ethan snarled, defiance burning bright in his chest. "I'm not a dog! I'm a wolf! I'm at the top of the food chain!"

A slow smile spread across the man's face, revealing teeth stained with age and something darker. He drew a revolver from his holster, a glint of cruel amusement in his single human eye.

"That's what they all say," the figure drawled, the voice dripping with a chilling amusement. "Just another lost pup, huh? Well, Gemini Ethan, looks like you ran out of leash."

Ethan's hands shiver "Wait, you are a hunter, how can you be in this district. Booney slug leans down, in a soft voice "I've come to take back the neighborhood clear out this go damn fucking Zoo".

The revolver clicked, the hammer snapping back. In that moment, a horrifying truth dawned on Ethan. He hadn't been running from a creature. He'd been running from a monster, a monster named Booney Slug.