Under A Latent Moon (A Werewolf Tale)

Chapter 16

Her feet pounded against the dry earth. Run. They'll get you. Her breaths came out in wheezing gasps as the fingers of trees slashed against her arms. The world blurred around her. Run. Behind her, a sharp bark and burst of movement. She just had to go--away, anywhere but here. How long could she keep going? Already she tasted iron.

In the distance, the peak of her home stuck out from the canopy of trees. Her parents had it built near the edge of the territory by where the trees were thin. It made it easy to spot among the deep brush. Run. Get home. You'll be safe at home. Nothing can hurt you there.

A low growl, the creature behind her mirrored her frantic pace--too close. She didn't have much time. The wolf had the advantage--she only ran on two legs and had no extra speed. If she didn't get home now, she'd be dead soon. She pushed her feet faster.

Her house, a tiny brown and white cottage, grew bigger and bigger. She could see the rickety front porch where dad sat in the morning to drink his coffee, the half filled flower beds with mom's tools resting nearby, Mathias' bike abandoned next to a tree. She was going to make it. Relief swelled.

Then the house burst apart.

The panic hit her first, followed by horror and raw, gut-wrenching emotional pain. Screaming, she was screaming. Her parents were in there! They--They-- Tears slammed into her and ripped viciously through her chest. Her legs couldn't, wouldn't carry any longer and she fell to the ground. Let the monster rip her to shreds. She didn't care.

Screaming. Screaming. Her throat hurt, but God help her, she couldn't stop.

It wouldn't be until later that she'd realize the wolf chasing her disappeared with the explosion.

Harley woke. The foreign ceiling above her was tall--vaulted--unlike her room at the pack house. The surface holding her was not her bed but rather, a couch. A light blanket cocooned around her. The sun must've started to rise as it cast muted light over the room.

Will's house. She was at Will's. And only God knows what time it was.

In the kitchen, Will stood at the coffee pot, shoveling coffee into a paper filter. "Will? What are you doing up?" The clock on the wall said a little past five a.m.

He turned, though if she'd caught him by surprise he didn't show it. "I couldn't sleep." His voice was low, a bit husky from lack of use.

She imagined the terrors sweeping through his brain at night. Unlike her, his mental images would only keep appearing. It was a wonder the man slept at all.

"You look like you couldn't either," he said.

The sweat of the nightmare still stuck to her skin. She would need a shower to truly get past it--showers had a way of making her feel brand new, inside and out. Luckily for her, Will had opened the picture window above the sink, and the cool gentle breeze felt amazing against her clammy skin.

"Coffee?"

After a wide, jaw-stretching yawn, she nodded, then set herself up at the island. While the coffee percolated Will fiddled around with the contents of his fridge. "Is it always like this?" she asked.

"For me? Yes." He stuck his head in the fridge while poking around at stuff in the back. Harley tried not to stare at him--he looked good in navy track pants and a dark gray t-shirt. "When you're in my line of work you learn to live without sleep."

How could one person do that? She loved sleep. Loved. Truly, it was the gift from the gods. "Is it hard? Being a hunter?"

He pulled out half a gallon of milk, eggs, bacon, and butter. At the question, he peered over his shoulder. "It has its ups and downs I suppose. More ups."