Reflection

Chapter 1

                

     Fearlessness    

                The blood curdling scream filled our ears. Panic cultivated inside me. The entire pack breathed heavily, everyone except me. My eyes were fixed on the woods ahead. Somewhere in them an Avro is digging his claws into fresh skin. Even if we were too late to save the ten year old boy, I wanted that Avro dead. I listened close and waited for the wind to carry its scent in my direction. There. I found him.

                My feet sprung forward; unaware who in the pack might be right behind me. I raced in between trees, leaping over broken branches. Before I could reach the Avro, I stopped to find the small boy stood firm in front of him. I observed the child carefully. He was covered in claw marks, yet the expression on his face was blank.

                "Well I think it's pretty obvious what's going on here, don't you Lorraine?" Jack's condescending remark only angered me more. I glared at the Avro's grin; he now had control over the little boy who in his right mind was frightened only seconds ago. I took a moment to analyze a strategy or two and found our pack of six had him surrounded. "You should probably let the boy go." Jack suggested to the Avro.

                "And what if I refuse?" He snarled at Jack.

                "It doesn't matter, you're dead either way!" I yelled at him angrily. I then began to attack, but my feet only came inches from the ground before the boy's abdomen was pierced by the Avro's claw. Everyone in the pack gasped, but Shariee's shriek echoed through the woods. Still emotionless, the young boy fell into a pile of dirt.

                "What did you do?" Shariee hollered; disappointed. Confused, I watched the rest of the pack drop their heads in grief. Jack, Nicole, Kyle, and even the runt, Luke, would not make eye contact with me. I then realized what Shariee was insinuating; it's my fault the little boy is dead.

                "It's not her fault!" Nicole shouted as she lunged at the Avro in front of us. I was frozen. Shariee was holding the boy close and all I could do was stare at them.

                "Why do you always do that?" Shariee had tears in her eyes. "You react and don't think." I clenched my fist at my side. I couldn't argue; this isn't the first time my anger against the Avros had gotten someone killed. My emotions were bubbling inside; anxious to defend my actions, but the sky was growing dark and the boy's body, lifeless, lied on the warm ground.

                "Guys, relax." Kyle's tender voice approached us. No matter the situation, Kyle always has a way of staying calm. It was only a matter of minutes before a familiar voice approached us; a family friend. We call him, "Old Brian". 

                "What is the number now?" He stood crooked, crumbling a leaf in his hand. Everyone remained silent and eyed me, curious. I first began counting the deaths I caused, the blood that was on my hands. I wondered, how many lives were lost because of my recklessness. Even those that were beyond my control, I considered them to be my fault. I thought of how if i had done things differently, how the outcome might be different. 

                "Four in the past month." Jack said, hitting me with his elbow as he walked away. The rest of the pack followed. Everyone was somber; no one said a word as they left Old Brian and I in the woods. I sat down on the damp ground. Fog was beginning to sweep around us. My tears were blending in with the environment. 

                I heard a deep sigh before Old Brian said, "Come with me." I wiped my face clean and followed Old Brian to his cabin just outside the forest. I gazed up at Old Brian as he poured us both a cup of hot tea. The wrinkles in his face only indicated worry, not even a smile could change that. Glancing at a shelf beside me I came across a photo of Old Brian, my father, Joey, and many others. "We were quite the team." Old Brian had approached me with the two cups of tea. His left hand began to shake, so I carefully grabbed my drink. "You don't see packs that big anymore." He cleared his throat and took a seat on the sofa. I dusted off the photo; observing them in their young age. Joey looked about fifteen. Old Brian seemed to stand a little taller in the picture, and he had darker hair. Dad's beard was darker as well, but other than that not much had changed from when I had last seen him.