Weak

Running

I panted as my legs stretched farther, running faster. I was used to running for extended periods of time but nothing like this. This, this was torture, this was me being a lab rat as the Alpha watched like a scientist. This was the Alpha playing with his food.

I had heard only rumors of what happens if he catches you, or worse, you stop running. For those who are caught don't live to tell the tale themselves. From what is whispered behind closed doors and windows it's nothing good. People say you would rather break every bone in your body a million times then deal with what he'll do to you.

That he is worse then burning in hell for a lifetime. So I kept running, because the one thing he hated most is when you stopped. When the game of catch was over, when you gave in. No, the Alpha hated cowardly wolves, he hated the puny wolves, those who couldn't protect themselves.

I could only take pride in saying that I wasn't that wolf, that I was stronger. That I was the strongest person alive; Trapped in my mind and body, who couldn't take my power.

As a child you are taught to fear him, to shudder at his name, his mention. Some though fear nothing, I can't say I am that person but I can sure as hell say I wasn't about to be scared of some name. Maybe I would be if he was right in front of me, and the rumors and legends were true.

Unsurprisingly though, I was scared now. Scared about dying, scared of being caught,..Terrified of seeing him. I could imagine how he would stalk to me, his head high with all his teeth showing. His pure white fur not being touched by the dust he had created when he chased after me. I can only imagine how every step for him would be a leap for me. That blood would hang from his mouth and drip onto the forest floor but not even faze his fangs or body.

I was terrified of him. Even if I couldn't bring myself to mention it, to be weak and choose to submit.

These thoughts kept me running, the invisible echo of a laugh that wasn't really there stayed in my ear, even though he was nowhere to be.

As a kid I learned to face my fears, to take control so I wouldn't have issues. I was thrown on stage to get over the fears of anxiety and other people. I held spiders and snakes, I was put in a glass box and buried alive. As the daughter of an Alpha it was, "what I had to do". It wasn't right, it wasn't right for my father to have his men abduct me from my bed and leave me miles in the ocean. To fend for myself in the dark cold water, to try and swim to shore only to exhaust myself. It sure as hell wasn't fair to have my childhood pet be killed in front of me. But that is what life is, unfair.

My father didn't want a daughter, he wanted a soldier. An emotionless wreck, an unfeeling son of a bitch warrior. I was slapped at the thought of being afraid, I wasn't beat up I was the one beating them up. My mother, she let him, she still does. I've taught myself to not voice my fears, to control my heartbeat and be unemotional, to not break this unloving dead character.

Except for now, because now I was exhausted. I was alone, terrified and every step hurt. I was lost and I didn't even know what way was up. I cried out as I knew what would come from stopping and I attempted to keep running, but I couldn't, my body wouldn't let me. I wobbled over to a tree and rested my head against it, whining.

I couldn't care less if my father heard me, I was hurt. And the only way I was getting out of this was a long slow death by the Alpha or showing I'm afraid and the possibility someone would hear me.

Only someone did, I heard his maniacal laughter and howl from behind me. I could feel his steps through the vibrations in the ground. I couldn't look up, I couldn't bare the thought of what he is going to do to me. So instead I watched his white paws walk, slowly, up to me.