WOLF

Death

Tatiana's black eyes flickered to the red car whizzing by. Her pupils were wide, taking in every detail of the quiet street. Across the road from her, an elderly lady embraced herself against the cold wind as she shuffled down the sidewalk with her stroller and a puppy coated in warm fluff. Behind the lady, a teenager, looking about 17 or 18 years old, with long hair covering his face leaned forward against a power pole, looking worn out. He wore casual clothes, a grey shirt and khaki jacket and ripped jeans, so Tatiana assumed that he was a high-school drop-out or had just skipped school that day. On Tatiana's side of the street, a senior student from her school bobbed along to the music from his headphones, oblivious to the world around him as he headed home. A loganberry vine hung over the fence of Old Carl's house, leaving sweat berries ready for the taking. Ordinarily, Tatiana would have grabbed some and run off before Carl would notice and yell at her, but she didn't have time for that. Tatiana's senses were alert and receptive. She didn't know what was wrong, but something was. A stray dog? Some abnormality? No... Much worse. The hairs on the back of her neck were on end. There was serious danger, not just her normal paranoia.

Vic dropped to the ground and stared at the knife as it slashed through the air above him.

His heart was racing, and every muscle in his body was screaming at him to run-to escape while he had a chance. But his pride was too strong for that. He'd never run from a fight before, and he'd never lost a fight before, in his whole 19 years of life, and he wasn't going to start now. He didn't follow his instincts like he'd been raised to do. He tried to use his head more and tried to think rationally in a fight.

But his head wasn't always right.

A thickly gloved hand snatched at Vic's shirt collar and lifted him off the ground in a swift movement.

Vic sucked in a sharp breath as his feet left the ground, finally realising his mistake.

He turned his face away from the sneering man and his foul breath with a cough.

"Sensitive noses aren't always great, huh?" The man chuckled, noticing his gagging as he pressed the tip of the blade against Vic's stomach.

Vic tried to use one hand to stop him from choking, and the other the try to stop the knife, neither with much luck.

He felt the blood start to drip onto his knuckles as a burning stab of pain shot through his body from just under his ribs.

Gritting his teeth, Vic let go of the man's arm, letting himself drop down and violently twisted the dagger out of the man's grip, wounding himself more in the process, and quickly turned the blade on the man and thrust it forward before he could even think.

He'd expected the man to try to stop him or to defend himself, but the knife met no struggle or resistance as it sliced through the fake-leather jacket, releasing a wave of blood.

The man fell back, taken by surprise, dropping to the ground.

Vic landed on all fours, his teeth slowly elongating and sharpening into fine carnivorous points.

The man glared up at Vic as blood slipped between his lips, "You can't stop Badger," He choked, slowly curling into a painful ball, "He'll find... you..."

Vic slowly stood up, trying to ignore the stab wound, and let his teeth shrink back down to a normal size. He winced and covered the bleeding rip with his right arm, but forced a smirk, "If I can beat you in this pathetic form, I'd like to see Badger try to win this."

The man lay still for a moment, muttering something about a war, and Vic let his breathing slow and heart calm.

Finally, the man's gloved hand moved back, in a motion to get up, as he coughed up splutters of blood.