The night began with cackling laughter, but ended in hollow gunfire.
Howling to the nearly full moon overhead, their pack of seven huddled in a ring around two fighting members in the center. Saliva dripped from the snarls of pointed canines, as the shirtless fighters circled each other with the yearning of pride as their only motives. Hunger for blood radiated of them in waves as they searched for a hole in the other's defenses.
One must have seen an opening because he lunged for his opponent's abdomen baring his sharp teeth. They tackled each other to the ground, a mesh of wild fists and bruising flesh as they try to pin the other in an inescapable hold. Grunts of pain began to sound more like the growls of wild beasts barely drowned out by the on looking crowd's hollering for a victor.
Falling back after a hard right hook to the jaw, one of the fighting boys stumbled with a bloody lip. His black hair was spiked from sweat that came off in his hand along with the crimson that dripped down his chin. He grinned in response, but she could see past the mask of enjoyment plastered on his face. His eyes flickered to their glowing slits a moment before the other boy charged.
Grabbing one of his opponent's hands in an iron grip, the black-haired boy used the other's moment to throw him over his shoulder and the heads of the mulling bystanders. His back crashed into one of the brick walls boxing in the alleyway where they stood. Coughing up a splatter of blood, the other boy managed to pick himself off the damp ground with enough rage to send the two sprawling again.
"That's enough," she ordered, the circle splitting at her words. Malice reluctantly faded from the proclaimed loser as her words were obsolete. Unwrapping his fists, he relaxed his body to show his eagerness to fight was gone, however, his deadly glare remained trained on the black-haired boy.
When it was clear the fight was over, the hoots rose up once again, fed by the adrenaline brought on by the brawl for power. Bodies collided – bumping chests, bumping shoulders – as the excitement of the outcome reached every member huddled in the alley – all but the loser, of course. While he played off his loss as gracefully as he could, she approached the winner with a clap on the back.
"The Beta stays," she congratulated earning a cocky grin in thanks.
"Was there ever any question?" he shot back, jokingly.
She laughed, but the sound was short lived. Before she could give her friend a reply, her ears picked up an unusual sound over the deafening cheering surrounding her. Not far enough off, footsteps echoed down empty streets, their movements a rhythmic marching like the heartbeat of one organism. Tens – hundreds – flooding toward them, with every other step taken a clicking sound blending with their stomping feet.
At her pause, all ears became alert to the noise. Like her, they were all mystified to the source and reason as to why it hunkered down the streets in the dead of night. Any feelings of joy they once possessed had long gone, leaving them silent and anxiously awaiting a sign to fight or flight.
After realizing the only thing the noise could be, she wasted no time giving orders. "Scatter!" she shouted, feet already treading across the gravel. Her comrades wasted no time either, darting down each way of the alley as fast as they could while keeping their ears open to the oncoming strangers.
A few scurried up the fire escape and found themselves leaping over the rooftops. They each took a different direction as ordered by their leader, who made her own way dashing through the maze of backstreets. On the buildings alongside her, one of their group ran following the paths she took. A side glance in his direction revealed it to be the black-haired boy trailing her steps to match his own.
"Herd up the others and regroup at the Stones!" she yelled to his near-flying form.
The look on his face signaled he wanted to protest, but she turned in the opposite direction before he could. While hunting in groups was a safer endeavor, not even all of the together could take on the numbers headed their way. And on the off chance confrontation was inevitable, losing one of them was better than losing all.
She hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. She hoped they were just patrolling through the streets on some kind of training simulation and that if she kept running she'd stay out of their way. She hoped that the metallic clicking she heard was not the weapons her imagination made them out to be.
Gunfire split into the night and forced her feet to pad down the narrow lanes faster until her muscles cried out in pain. Lungs gasping for breath over her raspy panting, her body could no longer retain its human mindset. Instinct took over logical thought until the running became thrilling rather than necessary. The exhilarating feeling of wind whipping her hair out of her face–
Her feet skidded to a stop inches before she collided with a solid brick wall. A dead end.
Shaking the animal from her mind until it was unclouded, she tried wrapping her thoughts around how she ended up at a stop. She knew the maze of the city as well as she knew the inside of her own house and yet there she stood gapping. Then she remembered – turning away from her friend sent her down to the south part of downtown, while her feet carried her through the labyrinth as if she was still on the east side.
Footsteps drawing closer, she decided to judge the height of the building rather than retrace her steps. Three hundred feet, she guessed. She would have to use the other walls as leverage to make it to the top and with luck the rough brick would give her enough grippage. With a running start, she leaped onto the left wall to push off onto the back wall. Her hands found the roof's ledge and clasped on so she could pull herself up.
Three pairs of polished boots met her line of sight and shocked her into releasing her tight grip on the wall. Splashing into a puddle as her feet landed her in a crouch, she gazed up at the looming soldiers only to have the retched clicking fill her ears. Cornering her in the dead end, a line of weapons pointed at her head attached to the arms of soldiers mirroring the ones on the roof overhead.
"Surrender," one of the soldiers ordered with an arrogant voice. She could see in his eyes that he knew what she was – and was itching to see what she could become. Remembering the words she relayed to her companions a thousand times in fear of capture, she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing her change.
At the same time, wolves never surrendered.
I should not be starting this while working on Snow, but the idea struck me and refused to leave me until I wrote it down.
Thank you for taking a peek at this story. I hope you enjoyed and please review!