Runner

Chapter 1

The bastard was fast.

In this deadly game of cat and mouse, predator hunted prey with lethal precision, heart pounding with every leap, every jump, and every step. The hare darted in and out of burrows, over and under fallen trees, its nimble feet working hard to stay those few steps ahead of its pursuer. It was fast, but the wolf was faster. Sunlight peeked through the lace blanket created by the trees overhanging the forest, rippling across mouse brown fur already tainted with the unsightly smell of blood. 

Time slowed as the wolf took a defining breath, leaping onto a fallen log and launching itself into the air. Keen claws latched into the hind of the hare, drawing a muffled howl from the victim as its back was broken by the weight of the hunter. Wickedly sharp teeth ripped into the jugular vein, a spray of blood covering the wolf's snout. Wasting no time, the victor dug into his meal. Satisfied and full, the wolf stood, a baby pink tongue darting out to lick and savor the tidbits still remaining on his lips. 

Vincent returned to the pack house, clean and clothed after a brisk swim in the river that separated Blood Moon's land from the Eclipse pack. Jeaned legs moved quickly into the flat expanse that he called home. The flat meadow was ringed with trees that stood guard, protecting the pack inside its safe boundaries. At the very head of the meadow, backed by wooden sentinels, the pack house stood proud and erect. Housing thirty-fives wolves and fifty-five human staff, the pack house was home to the wolves of the pack who owned no home themselves. The Alpha of Blood Moon was kind and generous to his followers, and all were treated as equals, but those who trespassed him would be condemned to Hell. 

As an Epsilon, Vincent lived in a small log cabin to the right of the pack house, hidden in the trees where he valued the privacy. Then, should the alarm be raised, he was close enough to defend the most important building in their territory. The Blood Moon pack as a whole was small compared to most other Californian packs, but they made up for their size with allies the Alpha had gained from his extensive travel around the country. They were at peace with most packs in their quarter of the territory in California, if not all, and rarely interacted with those outside of their quarter. 

Vincent headed straight for his cabin, intending to find something to eat before finding Donald, the Gamma in charge of his Epsilon group. 

"Cross!" Vincent turned to see his closest friend, Newton Blair, running towards him. The tanned boy's face was red with exertion, indicating he'd been searching for Vincent for a while. 

"You alright there, Newt?" Vincent asked with a slight smirk on his face. The lack of any smile on his usually jovial friend's face made it clear something was wrong, and the smirk dropped into a worried frown. "Newt?" He asked again when his innocent question was met with silence. 

"You...gotta come...dungeon...prisoner." Newt managed to translate in between breaths. 

"Can't Ryan take care of it?" Vincent asked, referring to the Zeta in charge of the few prisoners Blood Moon held in their dungeon. Newt finally stood up straight, his hand still clutching his aching stomach. He took a deep breath and swallowed to moisten his dry mouth.

"He was, but he sent me to find you. Donald's off campus, and you're his favourite. Believe me, you really need to come and see this."

"Why?" Vincent asked, annoyed that his earlier plans were slowly disintegrating into dust. His reluctance only fueled his anger because he knew that Newt had piqued his curiosity, and he knew that Newt knew that he knew it. Newt smirked, knowing he'd won.

"It's better if I show you." He said, turning around and limping away across the meadow, securing the knowledge that Vincent would follow to get answers. With a loud growl, Vincent took one last longing look at the trees where his house sat before jogging after Newt.