Wolf Attack Playable
* * *
You have got to be effin? kidding me.
The day had been a terrible one; the worst in recent memory. It wasn?t any one thing so much as a whole collection of little things, each tolerable on their own, that when combined added up to one swirling vortex of suck. Even valiant attempts at cheering her ? appreciated more deeply than could possibly have been articulated ? fell flat or otherwise went awry in confusing, ridiculous ways.
Sometimes, you just can?t win for losing.
The slumber party had been her idea ? a way to distract them both from the epic failures of the day. In the intervening hours, though, while fitful sleep had come to her friend, Saila experienced no such good fortune. Restless and feeling frustrated, the mercurial muse, posted for what felt like ages in the window of the little sleeping chamber, made a sudden and somewhat reckless decision to find (or lose) herself in the streets. Her head a tangled scribble of increasingly blackening thoughts, she quietly scribbled a note for Lauren, stealing out of the inn with her hoodie pulled tight around her.
Outside in the crisp, stinging cold, troubled Trouble inhaled a deep breath, hoping in vain that the burn in her lungs would somehow clear her head. No such luck, she shoved already frigid hands into the front pouch on her garment and started to walk.
Sure, she?d seen the bulletin earlier, tacked to every door in a row of shops she?d passed that afternoon. The kind girl she?d met, too, Zynn; the one who had offered to play bartender and complimented her eyes. Zynn had actually seen one, she?d even been bitten. The bite had seemed relatively minor, sure, but the evidence of struggle had been all over her, and still she?d been unusually kind, a bright spot in an otherwise dreadful day.
Sure, the conversation around the bar had frequently circled back to speculation ? was it one, or many? Hybrids, or weres? What had provoked them? What did they want? And all that time, Saila?s mind had spun itself in dizzysick circles, worrying about the one wolf she knew.
One of the precious few who actually mattered.
Somehow, though, the worries and evidences of the daylight hours had more or less evaporated here on the dark side of midnight. Her thoughts cluttered and cramped and twisted and seething, her walk was a mindless one, carrying her down ever more complicated alleyways in haphazard abandon.
Awareness came to her by degrees. Looking up suddenly to take in her surroundings, the Outsider found herself in an unfamiliar part of the city, a place she had never yet explored in the short time since her return. Pausing at a crossroads to look for landmarks and get her bearings, she felt the first tremor. A frenetic pulse of energy somewhere in the immediate vicinity, one throbbing and hungry and at once totally foreign and maddeningly familiar.
Cocking her head, Saila stood stone still, trying to trace both direction and identity. Identity came first: wolf. Was it ..? No. Not him. Different wolf. Direction, though, that was infinitely trickier to track. Scarcely breathing, she dared not move, trying desperately to get a handle on the wolf.
Movement. With a fractional widening of ill-paired eyes, Saila realized then that she was being stalked. For how long had the animal (man??) been following her? Had she really been so oblivious, so completely absorbed in her own head? Stupid, Saila. Really, really stupid.
Her breath shallow, booted footsteps light, she turned towards the electric hum. Peering into the shadows, she shaded her eyes, and though she still couldn?t see him, she?d resolved at least where he might be. Focusing now, all the details she shouldn?t have missed came through in piercing clarity ? the quick thrum of his pulse, the snuffle of his nose as he followed her scent, the panting of his breath in anticipation.
Are you effin? kidding me?
It took absolutely everything in her to keep herself from breaking down, hysterical laughter threatening to escape the porcelain cage of her teeth. Of course. Of course she?d been tracked by a wolf without noticing it, today of all days. Because the day hadn?t been obnoxious enough ? now she was about to get to add ?eaten by a wolf? to her list of spectacular accidents.
Awesome.
For what felt like an eternity, they watched one another. Adjusting to the gloom, Saila came to be able to pick out pale yellows, fixing them in her own disconcerting shades. Lips pursed, she chewed savagely on the inside of her cheek to keep herself motionless, ringed fingers balled up in tight little fists clutching at the fabric of her top.
?Come on,? Saila urged the strange wolf, taunting, after minutes of silence that had crawled by like years. ?This is stupid. Do what you came to do.?
Having never actually faced a wolf attack before, the purple haired girl had no idea what to expect. She couldn?t have known how unusual it was that there was only one, how fortunate she was to have been stalked by a single animal and not an entire pack. Sheer instinct had kept her from turning to run, and she couldn?t have known that would work to her advantage either.
Finally, he sprang.
She hadn?t anticipated how fast it would be, how strong. The way it would lunge directly at her throat.
Crying out in surprise, Saila had time only to throw one arm up defensively, the wolf?s sharp teeth finding purchase in so much fabric and ink scrawled skin. A shriek of pain ripped from her throat, the momentum of the lunge unbalanced her, and the breath was knocked from her lungs with the bone on cement clatter of ribcage and shoulderblades colliding forcefully with the pavement.
Gasping for ragged breath with eyes wild, she pushed at the great beast, trying to dislodge him. Utterly unable, she was no match for the animal?s strength, its mad-eyed rage.
Rage. As time slowed to a standstill, a memory from the night before rose up crystal clear in her mind. Rage is energy, she?d told the one who?d called her hero. The beast can?t get me.
Her smile was terrible, then, as she fought like a crazed thing to pull her bleeding arm free, to avoid those snapping jaws. Successfully working one hand underneath the beast on top of her, she shook her head, spitting a quick ?Sorry, kid? at him as she pressed the exposed palm of her uninjured hand flush against the animal?s chest. Connection made, she found the focus point, and drew.
Sucking in the creature?s energy like drinking from a firehose, Saila abandoned all pretense of caution. The colorful marks she took such pains to conceal grew livid, garishly bright and pulsing painfully ? an almost unbearable heat overtaking every inch of tattooed skin. Gritting her teeth and setting her jaw, she held on, clinging to her now frightened attacker who, eyes rolling and spittle flying, scrambled away from her now with a series of yelps.
Unable to hold him, she sat there in the filthy street for a long time after he?d fled, panting. Inarticulate and half mad, she sat there for at least an hour, her clothes in tatters, her body scratched and bruised and battered, her right forearm torn nearly to ribbons.
Glowing like a Christmas tree.
In the first greying silver of the dawn, Saila gradually came back to herself, taking a deep shuddering breath as she regained control of her own mind, her own memories. Staggering to her feet, she wiped at her mouth with the back of one hand, tasting bile and blood and something bitter. Something dead. Raking those same shaky fingers through matted violet tangles, she took stock of her current condition. Miraculously, though every inch of her hurt, nothing seemed to be broken. Well, nothing except maybe the sacrificed arm, which she now clutched to her chest with her one good hand like a broken wing.
Sighing, she spit the taste from her mouth, lifting her gaze once more to the street signs, trying again to find her way.
* * *
You have got to be effin? kidding me.
The day had been a terrible one; the worst in recent memory. It wasn?t any one thing so much as a whole collection of little things, each tolerable on their own, that when combined added up to one swirling vortex of suck. Even valiant attempts at cheering her ? appreciated more deeply than could possibly have been articulated ? fell flat or otherwise went awry in confusing, ridiculous ways.
Sometimes, you just can?t win for losing.
The slumber party had been her idea ? a way to distract them both from the epic failures of the day. In the intervening hours, though, while fitful sleep had come to her friend, Saila experienced no such good fortune. Restless and feeling frustrated, the mercurial muse, posted for what felt like ages in the window of the little sleeping chamber, made a sudden and somewhat reckless decision to find (or lose) herself in the streets. Her head a tangled scribble of increasingly blackening thoughts, she quietly scribbled a note for Lauren, stealing out of the inn with her hoodie pulled tight around her.
Outside in the crisp, stinging cold, troubled Trouble inhaled a deep breath, hoping in vain that the burn in her lungs would somehow clear her head. No such luck, she shoved already frigid hands into the front pouch on her garment and started to walk.
Sure, she?d seen the bulletin earlier, tacked to every door in a row of shops she?d passed that afternoon. The kind girl she?d met, too, Zynn; the one who had offered to play bartender and complimented her eyes. Zynn had actually seen one, she?d even been bitten. The bite had seemed relatively minor, sure, but the evidence of struggle had been all over her, and still she?d been unusually kind, a bright spot in an otherwise dreadful day.
Sure, the conversation around the bar had frequently circled back to speculation ? was it one, or many? Hybrids, or weres? What had provoked them? What did they want? And all that time, Saila?s mind had spun itself in dizzysick circles, worrying about the one wolf she knew.
One of the precious few who actually mattered.
Somehow, though, the worries and evidences of the daylight hours had more or less evaporated here on the dark side of midnight. Her thoughts cluttered and cramped and twisted and seething, her walk was a mindless one, carrying her down ever more complicated alleyways in haphazard abandon.
Awareness came to her by degrees. Looking up suddenly to take in her surroundings, the Outsider found herself in an unfamiliar part of the city, a place she had never yet explored in the short time since her return. Pausing at a crossroads to look for landmarks and get her bearings, she felt the first tremor. A frenetic pulse of energy somewhere in the immediate vicinity, one throbbing and hungry and at once totally foreign and maddeningly familiar.
Cocking her head, Saila stood stone still, trying to trace both direction and identity. Identity came first: wolf. Was it ..? No. Not him. Different wolf. Direction, though, that was infinitely trickier to track. Scarcely breathing, she dared not move, trying desperately to get a handle on the wolf.
Movement. With a fractional widening of ill-paired eyes, Saila realized then that she was being stalked. For how long had the animal (man??) been following her? Had she really been so oblivious, so completely absorbed in her own head? Stupid, Saila. Really, really stupid.
Her breath shallow, booted footsteps light, she turned towards the electric hum. Peering into the shadows, she shaded her eyes, and though she still couldn?t see him, she?d resolved at least where he might be. Focusing now, all the details she shouldn?t have missed came through in piercing clarity ? the quick thrum of his pulse, the snuffle of his nose as he followed her scent, the panting of his breath in anticipation.
Are you effin? kidding me?
It took absolutely everything in her to keep herself from breaking down, hysterical laughter threatening to escape the porcelain cage of her teeth. Of course. Of course she?d been tracked by a wolf without noticing it, today of all days. Because the day hadn?t been obnoxious enough ? now she was about to get to add ?eaten by a wolf? to her list of spectacular accidents.
Awesome.
For what felt like an eternity, they watched one another. Adjusting to the gloom, Saila came to be able to pick out pale yellows, fixing them in her own disconcerting shades. Lips pursed, she chewed savagely on the inside of her cheek to keep herself motionless, ringed fingers balled up in tight little fists clutching at the fabric of her top.
?Come on,? Saila urged the strange wolf, taunting, after minutes of silence that had crawled by like years. ?This is stupid. Do what you came to do.?
Having never actually faced a wolf attack before, the purple haired girl had no idea what to expect. She couldn?t have known how unusual it was that there was only one, how fortunate she was to have been stalked by a single animal and not an entire pack. Sheer instinct had kept her from turning to run, and she couldn?t have known that would work to her advantage either.
Finally, he sprang.
She hadn?t anticipated how fast it would be, how strong. The way it would lunge directly at her throat.
Crying out in surprise, Saila had time only to throw one arm up defensively, the wolf?s sharp teeth finding purchase in so much fabric and ink scrawled skin. A shriek of pain ripped from her throat, the momentum of the lunge unbalanced her, and the breath was knocked from her lungs with the bone on cement clatter of ribcage and shoulderblades colliding forcefully with the pavement.
Gasping for ragged breath with eyes wild, she pushed at the great beast, trying to dislodge him. Utterly unable, she was no match for the animal?s strength, its mad-eyed rage.
Rage. As time slowed to a standstill, a memory from the night before rose up crystal clear in her mind. Rage is energy, she?d told the one who?d called her hero. The beast can?t get me.
Her smile was terrible, then, as she fought like a crazed thing to pull her bleeding arm free, to avoid those snapping jaws. Successfully working one hand underneath the beast on top of her, she shook her head, spitting a quick ?Sorry, kid? at him as she pressed the exposed palm of her uninjured hand flush against the animal?s chest. Connection made, she found the focus point, and drew.
Sucking in the creature?s energy like drinking from a firehose, Saila abandoned all pretense of caution. The colorful marks she took such pains to conceal grew livid, garishly bright and pulsing painfully ? an almost unbearable heat overtaking every inch of tattooed skin. Gritting her teeth and setting her jaw, she held on, clinging to her now frightened attacker who, eyes rolling and spittle flying, scrambled away from her now with a series of yelps.
Unable to hold him, she sat there in the filthy street for a long time after he?d fled, panting. Inarticulate and half mad, she sat there for at least an hour, her clothes in tatters, her body scratched and bruised and battered, her right forearm torn nearly to ribbons.
Glowing like a Christmas tree.
In the first greying silver of the dawn, Saila gradually came back to herself, taking a deep shuddering breath as she regained control of her own mind, her own memories. Staggering to her feet, she wiped at her mouth with the back of one hand, tasting bile and blood and something bitter. Something dead. Raking those same shaky fingers through matted violet tangles, she took stock of her current condition. Miraculously, though every inch of her hurt, nothing seemed to be broken. Well, nothing except maybe the sacrificed arm, which she now clutched to her chest with her one good hand like a broken wing.
Sighing, she spit the taste from her mouth, lifting her gaze once more to the street signs, trying again to find her way.