The Hunter's Wolf

Uninvited Guest

Uninvited Guest

The coal black of my pupils contract to a diminutive radial size as my eyes widen at the sight of the incoming arrow gliding on air; though a thrilling flit, but a petrifying precipitancy.

Out of instincts, my hand shoots up and clutches the arrow single-handedly, its iron-coated tip just centimetres away from my accelerating heart. I take a couple of seconds to recover from the shock, before the stinging pain on my palm becomes apparent to my senses, then warm liquid dribbles down from my grasp.

Scarlet pearls, with the tinge of metallic scent trickle onto the soil, adding a garnet shade to the green grass.

I probe my eyes along the shaft of the arrow, well-made with a silver-white metallic element that is ductile and malleable, but also light in weight. The moment it soars, it cuts through air sharper than the arrows that the society hammered out. I pause on its tail, where the fletching indicates the identity of the archer.

Like the colour of burning flames, the feathers stand out with a fiery crimson red; a symbolism for blood and danger.

An intense colour, indeed.

I tighten my grip onto the arrow and pitch it to the ground, where its body glint under the light of the moon, with the stains of my blood out in the open for the Alpha to see.

He tenses upon the view, looking upon the fletching of the arrow as if he recognizes it all too well, but mostly towards the conspicuous blots of my blood. His ears straighten, in line with his head, his chest vibrates with a deep growl as he turns his back on me and whips his head towards the dark forest, now no longer concerned of our fight, but to the uninvited guest.

Some wolves take a step of courage and crouch low, their silent, trained paws stalking into the woods, a few of their forms disappearing into the darkness, while others keep their guard in the clearing.

An auburn wolf, closest to the bushy trees, has his eyes searching into the dark, squinting on every little detail, until for some reason he stops at a figure, and his mane rises up in defence. Other wolves who notice the company raise their muzzles and reveal their sharp fangs, giving a clear warning to the stranger who steps forth into the light.

"Greetings, wolves of the MoonStone Pack," says a velvety deep voice, "I apologize if I may have interrupted your training session, but I have some business to deal with your Alpha."

His salutations are only replied with threatening snarls from the pack, a proof that his presence in unwelcomed in their territory.

In his hand is an old bow made of oak wood, and on the bow, are carvings like ancient runes and what it looks like hieroglyphs, coiling around the arc like snakes on a stick. A full batch of arrows, with exact fletching feathers rest in his quiver strapped behind his back. He wears a black hood which covers nearly his entire face, hidden inside the shadows, except for his visible pale red lips, pulled to a calm smirk.

The archer.

When he glances up, his icy, cold blue eyes sweep across the open land, where only pack members in their wolf forms with a manner of buttress meet his expectations, until his eyes meet mine, and I freeze to the ground.

His eyes seem to cut at me, the sharpness slicing away my armour of confidence and amusement, stripping me down to the bone. There is nothing in them, not a single emotion; no compassion, no anger, not even hatred.

"Well," he clips and swings his bow to his shoulder, "Aren't you the odd one out here ?"

I can't find my voice as he stares at me; waiting, watching, observing.

"I'm not one of them," I say, at last able to speak up, but my small voice only gives my gallantry away to the timidity that I feel towards his intimidating aura.

A moment of surprise fleets across his face, but before he gets to make an expression, the Alpha shifts into his human form, stepping in between our gazes and hiding my body behind his.

"Our business is history," he chides, "You are no longer welcomed here."

"Is that your mate ?" he bends the topic and focuses it on me instead, trying to sneak a peek of my face one more time.

The muscles on the Alpha's back flex and bulge as his hands shake with rage, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his fists, and his veins pop out along his muscular arms like river lines, trying his hardest not to shred the man to shreds.

"A rare gem, she is," he makes a statement of opinion, his voice full of his own beguilement, "I can't help but wonder; what discretion will she render once she unveils who, or what you truly are behind that façade ?"

The Alpha's obstreperous roar blares with great, powerful sonance that quakes the earth, terrorising every living creature on land and on the skies- even his own underlings; who have their eyes and ears lowered, body conjunctive to submit.

"Leave her out of this," he forewarns, emphasizing each word with imminent threat.

He hums as a response and struts upfront into the clearing with prideful strides, unabashed by the wolves snapping their teeth at him as he passes them by. "Then shall we continue this talk, perhaps, in your office ?" he says, once he stands right before the Alpha's glare with his head held high.

With a puff of his chest, the Alpha whips around, and his large hand warps around my arm, his death grip like a boa constrictor choking its prey. He brings his lips close to my ear, and whispers, "I can go all night and day without breaking a sweat, Rose. If you think you can defeat me, then you're delusional. Whenever you feel like complaining about this interruption, have no hesitation to confront me anytime, but as of tonight, your fight is over."

His crushing thick fingers tighten around my arms, and his breath turns harsh as he says, "Stay in your room, and do not come outside."

He pushes my body to the direction of the mansion and yanks at my arm, making me hitch on one side as I limp my way forward. Throughout the fast and wide paces of our walk, I keep on stealing glances at the man, and he gives me only lingering smiles whenever our eyes meet.

The way the corner of his lips rise to curve of a smile out of it never fail to bring me sheer panic.

The fact that he looks oddly familiar bothers me, but I doubt they are actually the same person.

"Lock her in her room."

The Alpha tosses me over into Stephen's arms once we arrive at the entrance, and off to the hallway that leads to his office, with the stranger pursuing closely behind him, after giving me a nod of acknowledgement.

Stephen does not spare me another glance as he carries me back to my room and swings the door open, shoving me inside with force that I nearly stumble on my feet. This time, he scowls at me, before shutting the door in my face, but not without taking the key away to his possession.

I sigh aloud, blowing the air out through my mouth and enter the bathroom a second time that day, with the same disappointment clouding over my head. I take my time in the shower, cleaning myself off the dirt and blood, although most of the wounds are too painful, so I try not to get the soap into them.

I'm back to square one, with my body beaten down to a pulp.

The splotches of the blood on the shirt are still somewhat visible after I tried scrubbing them off, but at least it doesn't give off any foul smell, so I leave it be as it is as I shuffle at my feet towards the bed.

Every muscle in my body feels like they are being torn apart tissue by tissue, tendon by tendon, and with the newly inflicted injuries and bruises, I sure can tell that tomorrow is not going to be a good day for me.

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Edited 07/01/18