random one shot stories

Nyra vs Skinwalker - Fight Practice

(This was inspired by the song "The King is Dead" on YouTube. I also need practice writing out my fight scenes. Enjoy this story, as it will be one of the few—and I mean few—stories I'll post with fights. I normally don't even post them, haha. But this features my Half-Wendigo character Nyra battling a Skinwalker.)

The desert night was pitch black, and Nyra's eyes swept across the barren landscape, searching for any sign of life. Yet, an unsettling sensation gnawed at her—a sense of being hunted, watched, maybe even followed. Her instincts screamed at her to stay alert. Gripping her radio, she pressed the button and whispered into it, the sound barely cutting through the stillness. "10-4, everything is clear here... But I feel like I'm not alone."

"10-4, do you need assistance?" came the reply, a male voice she didn't recognise.

"Who is this?" she demanded.

"Your worst nightmare," the voice hissed, this time right beside her ear, making her whirl around.

Nothing. Her heart pounded as she frantically scanned the area, adrenaline surging through her veins. She was on edge, fully aware that something was horribly wrong—danger was closing in.

Before she could react, a sudden force slammed into her, sending her crashing to the ground. As she struggled to rise, a boot pressed firmly against her back, pinning her down.

"Where do you think you're going?" the voice mocked, dripping with cruel amusement.

She strained under the weight of their foot, feeling the pressure intensify as they leaned closer. She already knew who they were—and more importantly, what they were. They were analysing her, sizing her up, before delivering a brutal kick to her abdomen.

The strike knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping and coughing, desperate to catch her breath. Fractured rib, she thought, as she fought to her feet, scanning the area, trying to maintain her composure. But another blow landed, then another, barely giving her a moment to regain her bearings.

If this keeps up, I'm as good as dead, she realised, just as she heard rapid footsteps approaching. She turned in time to throw a punch, connecting squarely with her attacker and knocking them back. As she watched, the figure began to shift—transforming into something else.

Her breath caught in her throat as the truth hit her. A Skinwalker. This was no ordinary foe.

She racked her brain, trying to recall her previous encounters with these creatures—especially with one in particular. But this wasn't her frenemy. It was someone else, someone like them—only more dangerous.

She jumped back as they lashed out, the wind from their fur brushing past her, confirming her worst suspicions.

She shook her head, searching desperately for a place to hide, somewhere to escape. But she was out in the open, fully exposed. "Shit," she growled.

Just then, she felt it—a sudden weight on her back. Instinctively, she grabbed at them and threw them off, but not before their claws raked across her skin. The pain was immediate and sharp, and she cried out, struggling to regain her balance. Before she could recover, they knocked her down again, pinning her on her back. She lashed out, her nails digging into their muzzle.

They growled, and in a flash, their jaws clamped down on her wrist. Fucking coyotes, she thought, gritting her teeth. She gripped their muzzle, squeezing with all her strength, trying to break their snout. But their claws tore into her forearm, forcing her to release them.

As soon as she did, they let go. Her arm throbbed with pain, and she could feel herself weakening. They're strong. Stronger than I thought. Her heart pounded wildly. She needed to find a way out of this.

The Skinwalker lunged again, but she was ready this time. Using her strength, she grabbed them and hurled them away, creating some distance before bolting in the opposite direction. She ran as fast as she could, trying to outrun them, but they blindsided her, knocking her off her feet and going straight for her throat. She threw a punch at their jaw.

They yelped—a sound that told her she had finally hurt them. Her body ached all over, but she forced herself to her feet. There was no time to rest—not if she wanted to avoid meeting her maker. The Skinwalker lunged again, sinking their teeth into her leg.

Reacting on instinct, she stomped down hard on them, trying to shake them off. But then she heard another one approaching—fast. She swung her elbow back, connecting with a solid crunch—she hoped she'd broken one of their ribs.

The Skinwalker that collided with her elbow growled in pain, momentarily dazed, while she focused on their companion, who was still underfoot. They chuckled mentally, recovering quickly, and lunged at her, sinking their teeth into her shoulder and driving their claws deep into her flesh.

As their friend retreated, they bit down harder, relishing her cry of pain as she fell to one knee. Desperately, she clawed at them, trying to force them to release her, but they held on, raking their claws down her side, knowing she was weakening with every second. Acting on instinct, Nyra grabbed their snout and squeezed, refusing to let go until she heard a satisfying snap, followed by their pained yowl. Jackpot, she thought, as they snarled in agony and hatred.

She threw them off and delivered a powerful kick that resulted in another crack—this time, they lay motionless. Dead, she hoped. But before she could catch her breath, their friend charged at her with the speed of a cougar—they had shifted into one. Great, she thought sarcastically.

The cougar lashed out, snapping and scratching, forcing her to use her forearms to block the relentless attacks. In a brief moment of opportunity, she kneed them in the stomach, eliciting a cry of pain, but they didn't back down. They kept lunging, again and again, wearing her down, bit by bit. She could feel it—they wanted to break her, to end her.

Panting heavily, she threw the cougar back, desperately trying to create some distance. Her lungs burned, and her muscles screamed for rest, but there was no reprieve. Before she could even catch her breath, they were on her again, this time latching their teeth into her throat.

She froze, her body stiff with fear as the world seemed to slow down. She felt their jaws tighten, the pressure increasing until—snap. A sharp, sickening sound echoed in her ears as everything went numb. Her vision dimmed, and her body went limp, unable to fight anymore.

The last of her consciousness slipped away, and she felt nothing but a fleeting sense of relief—this fight, brutal and relentless, was finally over. The Skinwalker soon released her, and she collapsed to the ground, her body motionless. She had fought valiantly but in the end, darkness claimed her.