The Wolf of the Wilds

The Bloodied Window

There was a metallic taste on her tongue as she held the knife between her teeth. Her heart was thundering in her ears, voices whispering to her in soft tones. They begged her to kill, to fight, to taste blood on her lips. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and listened to the wind as it tugged at her dress. The voices sounded too like her parents, too unlike herself.

Dismissing them with a heavy exhale, she reached up and looped her rope around a nearby cloth hook and tied it in place. Tugging it several times, she deemed it secure. A thrill ran down her spine and she tightened her grip on the harsh twine. Tension, anticipation in her stiff shoulders.

Planting her boot on the wall, she pushed off against it. The rope swung her around to the next window. Foot outstretched and head tucked behind her arms, there was a thunderous shatter as the glass gave way under her body's momentum. Light and chaos met her as she landed with a well practised roll. Helena raised her head, shaking off the glass on her shoulders.

A woman was stood at the other end of the room, eyes wide and mouth slack. "What the fuck?" The assassin said in a thickly accented voice, her face and tone matching her confusion.

Helena took the knife out of her mouth, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Stepping forward, glass crunching, she bared her teeth. "You took the wrong contract," she said, breathing in the air.

A wolf, rogue probably. Recently ate.

Said rogue took a step back, scrambling for her own weapon. From her side she drew out a vicious looking curved blade that glinted in the lamplight. Silver engraved, judging from the uneven discolouration of its tip.

"The hell? You're that beta's mate, aren't you?"

The exclamation drove Helena out of her observations. "Oskar is an idiot for targeting us. He's trying to take a bite of a far bigger predator than himself. You're unwise if you continue to work under him. I'll give you one chance to leave this room alive, but you must leave this city and never return." She spoke in a low way, one that was slow and clear, with the rumbling growl that only a werewolf could achieve.

The woman seemed to scrutinise her, just as Helena had done so a moment before. Her eyes lingered on the unwieldly length of her dress, the dagger in her hand and finally to Helena's exposed throat. "I don't care who you are, but I am a wolf of my blade. I refuse to give up on a contract because of some stranger putting on a scary show. I'm no pack wolf that faulters at the slightest sign of authority," she spat, with lips curled back and knees bent.

An honourable assassin, how vile. Helena sunk into her own fighting stance, feeling the flickering of excitement and sadistic joy tingle down her spine. "Then say your prayers to whatever god you worship and prepare to die," she replied, running her tongue along her top line of teeth.

Vaulting over the bed between them, the wolf sprang towards her. Helena dodged the first slash, stumbling as her legs tangled in fabric. The next attack was easily avoided, but the counter strike of her blade met empty air. Blades slashed, metal clashed, but no blood was spilt. Helena smelt the sweat permeating the air; the assassin's blade was fast, exact and fierce. After another duck, metal flying over her head, she felt the cold wall at her back.

Helena spared no second for thought, lashing out with a well-aimed kick. It met its mark, shoving the assassin tumbling back. "Is this all assassins have these days?" Helena taunted, pushing back her hair, "at least they used to put up a good fight!"

The biting words earnt her a split lip as the other wolf's fist crashed into her face. An inconvenient oversight. "Ha! Not so smug now, Bitch!" the woman yelled, as Helena steadied her footing.