Running Wolf

Prologue

Hiiii. Just going back and editing stuff while making book 3rd person.

Words: 416
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"Katya. Wake up. You need to leave. Now."

When her eyes open, there was only darkness. She could see the shadow of her Uncle Andrew. He already taking out the little bags she owned and the motorcycle in the back of his pick-up truck. He's stressed, she could tell. His fists are balled up, turning white as the moon and he's pacing.

"I'll be fine, you know." She mutters, taking all of her belongings.

"Will you? Will you really, kid?" He faced her now. His face softened up, he pats down the unruly hair. We stand in silence, thinking over past events. "Stop thinking about it." He hissed. She bites her lip in response. "None of this is your fault." He insisted, gritting his teeth. "None. That stupid little shit-"

"I know! I know. I-It's-It could've been better. All of this could have been better." Katya says and he nods, running a hand through his own hair. He pats her back.

"I better be leaving. They'll get suspicious, wondering why you're here. But don't pay them no mind. Remember, only trust Eva and Ed. No one else. They're all you need till I figure something out for you." She knows this already but doesn't stop him from speaking. He presses a firm kiss on her forehead. "You'll be alright kid." He says, as if he's reassuring himself.

And with that he's gone and she's never felt so alone. The wind is bitter, harsh against her skin. She digs into one of her bags and pulls out a key. How Uncle Andrew manages to get her this place is beyond her. It's just outside the city of New York. Probably 20 minutes' drive without any traffic. Uncle Andrew and Katya both like their privacy.

It isn't too fancy, per say. Maybe too much for her. From just entering, it's odd how to be in a room with this much space. The kitchen being to her left with stainless steel appliances. The living room was simple. Not much color or personality. It makes her frown.

She makes her way upstairs (happy to know that stairs make no sound) and settle on the first room to her left. It's a good size for someone who doesn't have much.

She takes her time washing up the filth she felt all over. Brush her teeth until her gums stung then strip down to her briefs. She places her gun under her bed and the knife in the drawer. On top, she had her phone.

It doesn't take long for sleep to take over.

. . . .

Copyright © 2014 by Isha (jcoleaf)

All rights reserved.

Published in the U.S.A