Shielding the Beast (discontinued)

Ten | Pain

As if reading my predictions, the man follows them, charging like a bull possessed.

I make no effort to move. Only watch as his body flies like a bullet towards mine.

Time slows as my enemy comes closer and closer to frozen figure. He takes a lunge, going airborne and with intent of taking me to the ground.

Close enough now that his hot breath fans on my motionless, statue-like face, only a second's time stands between now and our collision.

Yet my muscles still don't react, not even displaying the slightest twitch of response to the situation. And with a full millisecond to spare, my need to reciprocate physical action is no longer necessary.

An inch from the end of my nose and his form is swept from my view, a black and grey blur hitting him like an unhalting freight train and generating a gust of air with it as it blows past.

My hair covers my face, disheveled by unnatural wind.

Lips tilting upward slightly, I grin. For the first time since I was given these scars, a small smile graces my face; and this one not in sadistic satisfaction, but rather of... happiness.

He came.

Snarls fill my ears, full of nothing but unaltered, searing hatred. Two bodies-- one wolf, and one human-- roll across the ground, dark trickles of red marking where they'd been. And a certain feeling tells me that the blood didn't come from the wolf.

Usually my instincts would scream nothing else at me but to protect Asher, to take the burden of the fight from my Lifeblood. But something now tells me let him have the kill, to let the victory go to him instead.

Only a mere handful of seconds succeeding their initial contact, Asher has his opponent pinned as if he were wrestling with a child.

Rustling coming from within the forest draws my attention, as does the breaking of sticks on the ground, and the pounding of multiple footfalls.

Reinforcements.

Alarms go off inside my head, all of them flashing red and bringing nothing but indefinite danger. Adrenaline fills my veins as air does my lungs, taking over my actions on instinctive accord.

"ASHER!" My voice cracks with the suddenness of my deafening shout, and despite the falter, still succeeds in gaining his attention.

His head raises in nerve-splitting panic at the distressed scream of his mate, and the span of a single heartbeat, his body is in front of me, ready to act as a living barricade.

Before my form takes on that of an oversized wolf, I say the one simple word that chisels off pieces of my pride and eats away at my dignity.

"Run."

Our paws beat in no particular sync and our legs move in no designated rhythm. My tail remains straight, refusing to tuck, and my head is held high, denying the shame its yearning to weigh down my shoulders.

Yet no matter the consequences, no matter the situation, there is still no grace in fleeing.

.