The Wolves ✓

1; the chase

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Freya ran inside the house and slammed the door, turning the lock. She looked behind at her younger brother, Gregory who was already looking outside through the windows. Her heart was hammering, pulsating with adrenaline as she ran to him.

"Get down," she hissed in panic, pulling him to the ground and letting the curtains fall back together. "They'll see you."

"It's too late, the smoke is here. And they will be, too," he said monotonously, his body tense with fear.

"Hey, hey," she said, placing her hands on her younger brother's cheeks.

Her brown eyes searched his, "I need you to stay with me, okay? We will get through this."

"No we won't," he mumbled.

"Look at me," she whispered.

"I am going to get us out of here but you have to stay with me. We need to get to Mr. Richardson's house, we'll be safe there."

There was a loud bang at the door and Freya almost jumped. She turned to Greg who was visibly shaking with terror.

"Go down to the basement, now," she said in a dangerously low voice, touching his hand. "You know where the tunnel is, right?"

Greg nodded before running out of the room, disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Freya moved her eyes to the window and sat on her knees, quietly. Her heart almost stopped when she saw the smoke had gotten as far as the trees. Almost like slow motion, she saw a figure move from the corner of her eye.

Several men were outside the house, their faces empty of any features. Cloths were wrapped around their heads, stained with blood and filth. One of them turned its head, staring directly at Freya.

She could barely see his eyes which appeared like deep depressions under the cloth, making her doubt if he even had any. Suddenly, they all turned their heads in sync. They could see her.

Freya got to her feet and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a large knife before racing down the corridor. It was when she got to the basement door that she heard the door being kicked down. Freya locked the basement door and ran downstairs, her heart practically out of her chest by that time.

"Greg? Greg?" she called, searching for him with her phone's torchlight.

"In here," he whispered from the tunnel behind the large bookcase.

Freya ran and helped him pull the bookcase in front of the entrance so that it was concealed once more.

"They're in the house," she said as she pulled him by his arm and began to run.

The siblings ran through the cold tunnel, having been through it before. Joseph, their father had shown them the way months ago in case they ever needed the safe passage. Freya was thankful that she remembered where it was.

The tunnel was solemnly silent, sparing the sounds of their shoes against the damp ground. Greg couldn't feel his nose or cheeks anymore, a cold breeze brushing past them from the opening on the other side.

Suddenly, Freya pulled Greg back by his arm and put her palm over his mouth. She pressed her back against the wall, her chest rising and falling as she tried to breathe calmly. It took Greg a moment but he finally saw what  Freya was looking at.

One of the men were in the tunnel.

She hid the light from her phone behind her leg, afraid that he'd see them. Despite her effort, some light still still escaped.