This is my sorry attempt at a Dark Series novel. I do not own any of the characters who names you recognize from the series and all of this inspiration I credit to Christine Freehan- a woman with the gift of writing and the love of many.
Please read and review, all helpful critisism is thanked and appreciated. Flames will be used to roast marshmellows.
Thunder clapped among the heavens as torents of rain pelted the earth blow. A black wolf ran though the woods with gashes covering it's sides, her head turned to view behind her. She turned forward only to yelp and dodge to the side as another of it's kind rushed at her with his fangs bared and jaws open to accept her. Dark shadows moved around the single wolf as she fleed, blood splattering the ground with every strained step. The black wolf let out a yelp as the ground seemed to give way beneath it's paws, she tumbled down a small reviene and landed hard upon the black asfault of the road. The other black wolves lept down the reviene as the other wolf scrambled to it's feet and ran to the cliff beside the road. They followed after her and lunged with fangs bared as she threw herself off the edge of the cliff, jaws closed around empty air. Her image wavered as she fell through the air like a stone, her body changed...morphed... An owl's shriek escaped from her mouth as her wings opened and caught her form. Air moved over her small body as she rushed toward the small town of Cougar, Oregon. She fell to the ground in a feathered heap in the middle of a small park where it was dimly lit. Her form rippled once more as she changed in to her real form, her carpathian form.
Long silver hair cascaded down to the ground and covered a thin pale face with soft blue eyes, a bloodstained chest heaved to drag in oxygen in to starved lungs. There was a tiny gasp as a hand shot to the side of her chest and grasped her tattered shirt. Three broken ribs...not good...Thin hands dug at the dirt and gathered it up before it was mixed with healing spit and pressed in to wounds. She let out a small whimper as she pressed the wet dirt in to a large gash in her left side and right shoulder were partially dried blood was caked in thick layers. Unsteady legs picked her up and moved her toward the light of the town, she walked past a couple who was preoccupied with each other-each taking the time to explore the other's being. Her thin hand stretched outward and grasped the man's black trench coat which was drapped over the back of the bench. They didn't notice as she slipped away, placing the trench coat on her shoulders and closing it to hide her wounds. She had to find a place in which she could rest...her pursuers weren't far behind her. She had been so stupid...how could she have been caught alone? Mikhail was going to be furious with her. If she died...then there would only be a handful of females left, most of them already with lifemates and seemingly unable to bear a daughter for their race.
She staggered down the street and could feel herself growing weaker, her face was slowly becoming more worn and drawn. She needed blood and hunger clawed at her stomach. She let out a wince as someone ran in to her side and slammed her against a wall sending pain radiating through her body. She panted and shook off stars from her vision as she pushed open a door to a small resturant and moved through the room to the bar. "Bathroom, please..." She muttered softly. The bartender raised a hand and pointed thus sending her on her way. She was in so much pain, so weak, that she did not feel the second presence in the resturant. She pushed against the bathroom door with what strength she possessed and staggered inside to the room of tile.