Perfectly Imperfect

Chapter Twelve: Run [in the] Forest, Run.

I was dead, so dead. So very dead.

Countless paws were thundering behind me. Don't look behind, don't trip. My mind was completely numb with adrenaline. Or fear. Or both. I couldn't breathe, and it wasn't just down to the fact that exercise was not my forte.

I saw a shadow either side of me, they were easily matching me stride for stride. Not that, that was a surprise at all. They were predatory machines. I could hear the other wolves thundering behind me. One thing my life had prepared me for was dying and not giving up.

This situation tested both of those. Suddenly the large black wolf appeared in front of me a couple yards ahead. I came to a skidding halt, ending up on my ass in a panic to stay away.

It was huge. No natural-born animal should be that large. It's poor mother, I thought horrifically. I returned to my feet and backed away slowly. Until I felt a wet nose press into my back, making me aware of the fact I was inside a circle of wolves.

Were they toying with me?
"Didn't anybody ever tell you not to play with your food?" I growled, I swore to myself when I started my counselling that nobody would ever make me feel the fear I had felt in my childhood ever again. And I was just now deciding that, that stemmed to include animals too. I made peace with my death long ago, I lasted longer than I ever expected to and at this point I was willing to get it over with.

But I was not about to be toyed with.

The large black wolf whined loudly, sitting down on its hind legs and tilting its head to the side, studying me. It whined again desperately. He was kind of... cute, actually. In a could-eat-you-whole kind of way.

I noticed the wolf on my left had dropped back behind me, leaving an opening. I ran for it with everything I had. We continued this perverse game of cat and mouse for what seemed like an eternity. One wolf would be on the left, catching up to being ahead so I would shift a right, and then the same would happen on the other side.

I was thoroughly drenched to the bone, the thunder and lightning, from what I could tell, had stopped but the rain had picked up to the point it was difficult to see ahead. The ground became soggy and I knew I had to hit concrete soon or I'd end up slipping. The wolves seemed to have no problem thundering after me, their footing never faulting for a moment.

My lungs burned like I had never felt before, an aching burn accompanied by brief stabbing pains in the form of a stitch spread the length of either side of my body. I wouldn't last much longer, I knew. I was reaching my limit, outrunning multiple wolves.

I gasped for air, my throat burning, I couldn't breathe. I saw the opening of the trees way ahead but I couldn't physically run for a moment longer. I had been running on empty for about 5-10 minutes now, the tank was empty. I turned to meet my fate, dropping to a sitting position. I panted heavily, my breath coming out in painful wheezes.

I saw all the wolves line up in front of me, no doubt eager to assess their catch. Their food. I noticed the black wolf was, indeed, much larger than the others. It was easily 5 feet tall. Unnatural.

I held my side, preparing myself for the pain to hit when the black wolf knelt down next to me, head on his paws and his body low to the floor. I had been so preoccupied with his intimidating approach that I hadn't noticed the other wolves had already done exactly the same.

What?

I sat there as I caught my breath and I wasn't entirely sure what to do next. If I get up will they decide to attack? Their behaviour no longer seemed threatening. Do I stroke him? No, that seemed logically like a surefire way to lose a hand.