Word Count: chapter: 300||story: 6,300||Chapter Count: 21/26
He could hear them on his trail. The sharp beat of deadly wings. The rage of words he didn't altogether understand but knew to be dangerous, threatening his very life.
So he didn't stop running. Carrying this lightning stick – which wasn't made like any kind of wood he knew of – meant he had to pick wherever he holed up at carefully. It was too big for most dens, either not able to fit in or giving him away if he could get into them at all.
A flying shadow fell over him and he yelped when something struck between his shoulders, sending him head over tail, and dropping the stick as well. When he could see what was going on again, the reddish enemy held the stick and pointed it at him.
The wolf flinched, convinced at first that lightning would come from it, perhaps even kill him. But instead, something began to exist around him, like hardened water or wind: a shell of some kind that he could see through but as he found out when he slammed into it, could not move through.
Then, from the top of the invisible shell, pain poured down, coursing through him in the manner of gigantic claws that left no wound but brought howl after howl of pain pealing from his throat. He fell to one side, paws batting at the ground beneath him uselessly, wriggling.
Footsteps came closer and he tried to get up, wanting to escape. But his legs refused to work and he couldn't bring in enough air and everything hurt too much.
Then other voices snapped more words he didn't understand, though he no longer knew if that was because these strange other beings spoke them or because he hurt too much to listen.
But the pain stopped.
To Be Continued
Notes: You know who arrived.