Nov 27, 2012 19:45:57 GMT -5
Post by »Image on Nov 27, 2012 19:45:57 GMT -5
Around the black she-wolf, the world trembled. Deep and rumbling, the noise grew, growling and snarling into the night. Chaleur only continued to run through the midnight forest, her legs reaching farther for each step. She had to get away. She had to run. She couldn’t fall prey to him. Not again. It was with resolve that she bounded hastily around the bushes and ferns of the misted forest, her yellow eyes taking a moment to glance back at her pursuer. Suddenly, she knew why she’d avoided doing that from the beginning.
Rising high above her, through the smoke of the woods and the raven-winged blackness of night, was a wolf. Landen. At the sight, Chaleur visibly shivered, her ears pulling flat towards her head. His dark, ashen coat rippled over in waves of anger, and he was easily three times larger than herself. Chaleur’s eyes could only widen in response as she focused her gaze forward and raced further into the tree line. She wanted to whine her discomfort and hopelessness at the situation, but the noise wouldn’t come, stuck deep inside her chest. The hunt had been over before it had begun.
Behind her, the beast lumbered on. His breath was thick and heavy on her heels and the rasp of his breath was a death rattle on her living ears. Chaleur realized with a jolt the feeling of the hunted. It was a frightening, shocking experience that tingled uncomfortably to her core. She was a true wolf, not a scared pup. Still, as much as she tried to convince herself of the fact, there was no turning to face the creature that pursued her with such a half-diligence. He was hardly trying to keep up—with his sheer size, he could easily over take her and end the hunt. Still, he kept his same pace and forced her onward.
Chaleur’s breath was ragged as she began to crest the next hill in the deep of the woods. Her legs were on fire from the exertion and a very slight and dull burning was beginning to seep into her throat. She wasn’t sure how much farther she could go. She glanced once more to see the closeness of her tormentor and was surprised to see she’d gained a few tail lengths by weaving through the trees earlier. Hope flaring in her chest, Chaleur once again trained her gaze forward and burst out of the woods, onto the open moorland.
To her horror, Chaleur realized she’d taken the wrong path out of the woods. Before her rose the beginning of the Hagen Mesa cliffs, their peaks reaching higher than she could ever wish to climb. She was surrounded on all sides. There was no escape. It was the end. Chaleur whipped around to face her attacker, a snarl plastered on her lips as the white flashed restlessly. Landen’s enlarged form slowly moved forward, the large claws ripping clumps of grass from the ground. The closer he got, the unsure Chaleur was of herself. Dark storm clouds had rolled in, a soft thunder building over the tension of her current situation. She couldn’t win. He’d tear her to shreds, leave her hanging to life, leave her too battered to fight off the vultures that would be waiting to finish her existence off.
Chaleur, realizing the bleakness of the situation, threw herself before the apparition. She vainly snapped her eyes shut and tensed her muscles, waiting for the ripping, agonizing sensation that would befall her. Moments passed. It didn’t come. Time ticked by and Chaleur carefully, cautiously, opened one yellow eye. The monster was gone, replaced by a normal sized version of her previous lover. The black she-wolf’s fur tingled with excitement as she jumped from the grass and loped over to Landen’s side. Her tail wagged eagerly and her ears flicked his direction, thrilled that her savior had finally come.
“Landen, you’re here! You--”
“You idiot. You picked the easy way out.”
Like a poker fresh out of the fire, Landen’s comment burned the she-wolf’s previous enthusiasm and she recoiled visibly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”
“Oh, shut up. Where’s my dinner?”
Chaleur’s face fell at her mate’s cutting response. She hadn’t known he’d wanted dinner.
“I didn’t know you’d been expecting me.”
“Of course I was. You’re my bitch.”
Chaleur fidgeted as she tried to find something to say. She’d messed up as his mate and made him upset. She wasn’t in a place to bargain with him tonight. Unsure of how to proceed, Chaleur closed her eyes tightly. She racked her mind for something, anything, to say to appease him.
As she opened her eyes, Chaleur yelped in a mixture of surprise and fear as the beast before her raised one blackened paw. In a flash she felt the tearing, searing sensation of a fresh wound. It laid right on her chest, staining her white patch of fur a sickly red. Again the monster reared its head and Chaleur froze, unwilling to suffer the punishment she would be given if she fought back. The claws sliced into her fur again and Chaleur whined in pain. Her eyes glazed over and she fought back the urge to close them. Vainly struggling to keep her wits about her, Chaleur fell into unconsciousness at the sight of her blood pooling below her.
“Chaleur. Chaleur, wake up.”
It was the rough voice of Calien that shook Chaleur to waking. The yellow eyes snapped open, wide and fearful as they darted around the den. After a few blinks and moments of adjusting to the darkness, she realized where she was: the Amareta Forest dens.
“I was just coming to wake you up for a hunting party…” Calien’s voice trailed off uncertainly, and the Alpha looked over her pack mate before quirking a brow. “You okay? You look horrible.”
Chaleur tried to imagine her appearance after a night of fitful dreaming. Her fur was probably ruffled all over and her eyes were most likely bloodshot from the lack of real sleep. Wonderful.
“I’m fine. Let’s go, I’m awake now.” The tone was abrupt and decisive as Chaleur moved to exit the den. Not rude, but not overly polite. She needed something to distract her from the nightmares, something to snap her out of Landen’s fictitious grasp. Her life with him was over. He’d made that much clear when he’d left her that autumn…