Hello, readers!
This one also wasn't changed a whole lot, just tidied up. I'm still not a fan of the interaction between Wolf and Nichole when they're "introducing" themselves to each other but I don't think I ever will, and I don't want to just...remove it...so whatever GUESS IT STAYS. Anyway, had to throw Brutus in there as much as I dared to and again pretty much overhaul the last bit, since Wolf was no longer dressing the Queen's head. I hope it's at least consistent and engaging!
This chapter has been updated as of 6/1/2017
~ Crayola
Chapter Seventeen
One of Them
The longer I waited for Wolf, the more anxious I became and the more I came to believe that he wasn't going to ever come back. I was going to freeze to death all alone after everything.
I took a few rapid breaths and mentally prepared myself for the next step: see if I could stand. It took several more deep inhales to steel my nerves, and then I tried to heave myself up a few inches, just enough to bend my legs and get them underneath me.
Just the effort of flexing those muscles caused stars to erupt in my vision.
My teeth gnashed and I bit back a scream. I gave up that particular endeavor and settled back onto the ground, panting. Tears started to fall down my cheeks and I fought to stay conscious.
Now I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get up, that was for sure. I turned and tried to flip over onto my stomach so I could maybe crawl up the hill, but that hurt way too much, too. My wrist hurt, but that felt more like a sprain than anything else. Then I tried to maybe scoot on my butt down the hill, but that still required too much movement in my legs.
Crawling through the snow didn't seem like a great idea. My best bet seemed to be to sit tight and wait for the helicopters and tanks.
A day late and a dollar short. We'd already done all the work.
Instead, I leaned back into a lying position and covered my face with my hand. I tried hard to suppress the sobs, but a few escaped while I choked on my tears. After all of this, I was disabled by a fall. I was going to be done in a by a couple of broken bones.
Alone in the woods, freezing to death.
After a moment I took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to pull myself together. Someone was going to come looking. I just had to last long enough.
Then, I suddenly remembered.
My phone!
I sat up straight, sending another jolt of pain up my spine, and fished around for my cell phone. I had completely forgotten about it, and now I was on a different part of the mountain. What were the odds that I could find any sort of signal? Slim, but I could try.
There it was, the familiar weight in my back pocket. I grunted and whined in pain as I shifted to pull it out between violent shivers, but it would be worth it when—
The jump and subsequent tumble down the mountainside had almost completely shattered the screen into a spider web of cracks and chips. It had already been cracked, but now it would probably be near impossible to read the display.
That was okay, though. People had cracked screens all the time. So long as the inner plate was still okay, it should still work. It had to. I stared at it a moment, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then hit the button to turn it on. I couldn't remember how much batter I'd had left when I'd last stopped using it, but hopefully, it would still have enough.
Small slivers lit up between the cracks, but for the most part, it remained black and broken.
Something inside me broke and I yelled incoherently, tossing the phone as far as I could throw it. I pressed both of my hands against the sides of my head and continued to scream like an indignant child, then picked up anything that was within arm's reach and threw those, too—rocks, handfuls of dirty snow, weeds, sticks, anything that had been thrown close enough by the sliding ship—nothing was safe from my wrath.
The only thing missing was a good ole tantrum thrashing, but moving even enough to throw things was kicking my ass in the pain department.
I fell on my back hard enough for my vision to blur at the edges and I scrunched up my face, chest heaving in a strangled cry. I remained like that for a while, staring up at the white, wintry sky. I tried hard to stop crying, to calm down, but it was proving difficult.
It didn't matter. It wasn't going to work, anyway. I don't know why I even bothered to hope that I'd have working signal on this forsaken rock. The longer I was
At least it wasn't snowing at the moment. Sure, the snow that had fallen through the night was deep and cold, but it would have been worse if I had to sit through some sort of blizzard, waiting to be picked up.
And the longer I sat there, the longer I could avoid going home. If I never even made it home, then I wouldn't have to face the consequences of all this. Of breaking the quarantine and wandering into the woods when we were told not to. I wouldn't have to tell anyone what I had done, what we had done. What had happened to them.
Tell my parents.
Tell Jess' parents.
A familiar, masked face popped up into my vision and I started violently, racking my body with spasms of pain. I shouted and curled in, trembling and panting.
Wolf chittered an admonishment and kneeled next to me, pulling my shoulder and turning me so I was on my back. I gasped and reached out for my legs with both hands, fingers shaking. They hovered uncertainly for a few moments, and then I just let them fall back to my lap.
"Why did you make me jump!" I hissed through clenched teeth. I rounded on him and lashed out with a closed fist, trying to hit any part of him I could reach. "You should have carried me!"
It was easy for him to dodge the blow with a single step and he lifted his hands, palms out, and clicked rapidly in his funny language. I understood it to be some sort of quick apology or explanation, but that didn't help. I tried again to smack him but only wound up hurting myself more.
Now I was in more pain and breathless, but no closer to gaining any semblance of vengeance for this outrage. I waited until the throbbing stopped and then sat back up, glowering at my lap. "Whatever," I said, resigned. Wolf tilted his head to the side and rattled quietly, then approached me when I didn't continue to lash out. He kneeled back down next to me to look at my legs.
Deep down, I knew I wasn't really mad at him. I was just angry in general and had no outlet. I was angry at my injury, angry at my phone, and just angry.
I turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. "I thought you'd left me for dead."
Wolf glanced at me, murmured something, then gripped my upper arm and started to stand, pulling me with him.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, grabbing his thick arm with both hands.
His response was another encouraging rattle and he pulled me upward. My first instinct was to get my feet under me, but the tiniest little twitch made me gasp. "No—no I can't—"
My dead weight didn't seem to be a bother for him, even with one arm. He pulled me up and my feet dragged on the ground, making me cringe and writhe. "Stop! Stop!" I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.
When he hesitated, I almost sobbed in relief and tried to pry myself out of his grasp, but he held me tight. "They're broken! I can't stand. Please? Please!"
For a moment he just made a decisive clicking noise, then rumbled in his chest like an annoyed dog and gently set me back on the ground. I couldn't bring myself to let go of him, though, as if terrified that he'd actually leave me if I let him go.
Once I gained control of my breathing—as much as the cold-induced spasms would allow—I looked up at him and swallowed hard. "They need to be set . . . I'll need a splint . . . ."
A rumble vibrated in his chest and he maneuvered behind me. In one fluid motion, faster than I could comprehend, he leaned forward, wrapped an arm around my waist, and pulled me off of the ground, holding me in the crook of his arm against his side. I couldn't help the strangled screech that slipped past my lips, but he managed to do the whole thing without causing me too much undue pain.
And by "too much" I mean I didn't pass out.
I hung there, limp in his arms, my legs and arms dangling. My feet barely scraped the ground as he carried me like a sack up the hill and into the encroaching woods. Every movement made me cringe just a little bit, but once he made it up onto flatter ground, things were easier.
Despite the small bit of comfort that came from the heat he gave off, I felt completely undignified and even somewhat humiliated, and I made a point of looking anywhere but at him as he carried me into the woods.
Being carried by the midsection wasn't a comfortable process, though it was certainly easier on my legs. I squirmed so much that Wolf nearly dropped me a couple times, but eventually, he lugged me to a part of the forest that had been cleared of snow, surrounded by a small copse of pines and frosted bushes. I didn't bother trying to figure out how he'd done it.
Wolf kicked away some rocks and sticks in a small patch of the ground and then bent his knees, lowering me down. I extended my arms until my palms were on the dirt and could support some of my weight. Wolf chittered a warning, and then let me slide forward. I wasn't completely ready for it, though, and my sprained wrist buckled under my weight. Just barely, I was able to turn and fall on my shoulder instead of my face.
"Son of a—you trying to break the rest of me?" I snarled into my arm, glancing back at him as he let my legs slip from his grasp and fall semi-gently to the ground.
It still made my teeth grind, but it was better than being completely dropped from where he'd been holding me. I was prone now, but I turned until I was in a sitting position with my legs stretched in front of me and I just glowered at him.
He cocked his head to the side as if wondering why the hell I was upset.
I rolled my eyes. "Oh yeah sure, I get it. My face isn't what's broken, right?"
For another moment he stared back at me, then his chest heaved and he turned and called out to the tree tops. I figured I should probably lay off him a bit—he seemed to be becoming exasperated and the last thing I wanted to do was irritate him when I was like this.
Who knew what he'd do.
Sighing, I rubbed my shoulders to try and warm up and said, "I'm sorry. I'm just . . . upset. That's all. I really do appreciate the help."
Wolf glanced at me, then nodded.
Though the wind wasn't so bad now that we were no longer in the open, it didn't make it any warmer. I curled up the best I could with my legs and wrapped my arms around myself, shivering, and I tried to figure out what was next on Wolf's agenda.
"Where's—"
As soon as I spoke, Brutus dropped from somewhere above us and landed heavily next to Wolf, startling me. I looked up to see where the hell he'd fallen from, but all I saw was a few swaying trees.
"Never mind," I muttered.
Through the trees, I could hear a distant buzzing, but I wasn't sure what it was. A hum? The wind whistling in the branches? It didn't seem to bother Wolf or his pal, though, and after a few minutes, it went away. Maybe just a ringing in my ears, or general forest sounds.
The two of them were in a discussion, and I realized that this was the first time I'd seen them outside of the shadows, in natural lighting. They were still imposing—tall and muscled—but out of the darkness, they seemed somewhat smaller than I thought. Maybe it was because I wasn't as scared anymore.
It made me appreciate the differences between the two of them, as well. I had been able to tell Brutus wasn't Wolf because they were built somewhat differently: Wolf more like a wrestler to Brutus' linebacker. However, they were also covered in different colored rough, scaly skin. Wolf was a more pistachio green with darker spots around the joints, but Brutus was a dark, muddy brown with similar patterning.
They finished their conversation and both turned to look at me. I balked under their combined gazes and waited for them to do something. Brutus grunted and turned away, his shoulders squared as if he was miffed about something.
Wolf ignored him, however, and walked over to squat next to me. I leaned a bit to peer at Brutus from around him, but he was hanging back, rotated just enough to watch us sidelong.
"What's going on?" I asked, averting my attention back to Wolf, shivering more from the morning chill. The snow that had wormed into my clothes during the fall had melted, and it was closing in on that threshold where my teeth were starting to chatter.
His response was incoherent at best, but I was starting to pick up on how he separated syllables. Plus, the growls and clicks were starting to sound more and more like an actual language. I attributed most of the unintelligible gibberish to the mask he wore: it had to muffle a lot of what he was trying to say. I sighed, wondering why I bothered but figured that silence would be worse.
"Well it's cold, so whatever you're doing, hurry it up before I freeze to death," I said between teeth-shattering tremors.
He nodded and twisted to pull something off one of the straps running along his waist. What he presented to me was the long, unmistakable digit of one of the bugs. I shied away from it in disgust, but not before spotting the edges of a wound, almost like a square.
Checkers? When in the fuck had Wolf had time to lop off that dead thing's hand?
"What are you doing?" I asked, as he produced a small dagger and sliced a shallow gouge into the palm. He rooted the tip of his knife around for a moment, slathering it with a shallow coat of acid before discarding the hand. Where it landed and blood oozed on the dirt, it began to smoke.
When he crouched down in front of me, holding out the acid-covered knife, I leaned way back and eyed him warily. He seemed to notice and stopped to watch me for a second as if absorbing the uneasy way I was looking at him. He straightened his back after a brief moment of consideration and then lifted a hand to unplug some of the tubes from his mask.
That small gesture made my stomach twist as I realized he was removing it. I'd only known him for a short time but he'd always had that mask on, so I wasn't sure what I should expect. I found myself trembling—not just from the cold—as he fit his palm over his mask and popped it off.
My breath hitched and I felt my fingernails cut into my palm as I waited.
I wasn't sure what I had been expecting when he took that mask off. His whole body structure was functionally humanoid despite the rough skin and strange blotchy coloration, so I might have been expecting a familiar, more human face, but I was surprised.
Unpleasantly.
He had a large, sloping forehead ridged with small, black spines and beady human-like eyes set deep into a thick brow. He had no nose, but the most striking feature was the four insect- or crab-like tusked mandibles set over an open mouth lined with sharp teeth. The dreadlock-like appendages attached to his head fanned out from just underneath the spines lining his head.
In hindsight, I shouldn't have been expecting anything familiar, but most alien movies I'd seen depicted aliens as bald little green or gray men with big eyes and bulbous heads, but Wolf didn't look anything like that, either. He was much . . . scarier.
I felt myself recoil from him slightly, but I had to remind myself that I probably didn't look like a spring chicken to him, either.
Wolf held his mask out to me and I looked from it to him and then back again before tentatively taking it from his hands. It was a heavier than the blade he'd loaned me and I had to hold it with both hands. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be looking at—the deep cracks or the strange scribbles? It looked pretty mad and I wasn't sure if that was on purpose or just one of those things that were.
A series of rattles made me look up from the mask at Wolf. It was startling how clear the syllables were now that the mask was off. I could almost make out the phrase, or word: khu'wei. It was hard to replicate, but it sounded slightly familiar like he'd said it to me a few times.
My hand tapped the side of the mask and I looked around uneasily, but my gaze always fell to that knife. "What?"
He used his free hand to tug at the chest plate covering half of his pectorals—what the hell kind of design was that? Was it over his heart or something? I guessed that kind of made sense—and indicated toward a scar close to where his clavicle was or would be. If he had one.
It looked like a bone similar to a collar bone, anyway.
I looked at him, confused, then leaned in for a closer look. It certainly wasn't just a random scar. Instead, it resembled one of the symbols on his helmet. The mark was bigger than a silver dollar and made up of three shapes, a sideways V, a sideways exclamation point, and the third underneath those two was kind of like an apostrophe.
"So?" I asked, looking up at him and leaning back again.
First, he motioned to the mark, then let his chest plate fall back in place and lifted the knife again. I furrowed my brow and stared at it, trying to connect the dots and keep myself warm at the same time. He obviously wanted to do the same thing to me, but I couldn't figure out why he had to do it with a knife dipped in acid. Wasn't just a plain old sharp edge good enough?
Having that stuff drip on me before had been horrendous, I wasn't sure I wanted him to carve a tattoo into me with it. My back ached just thinking about it But—it wasn't just acid, was it? It was Checker's blood, something that I had killed by myself.
Maybe they were connected. But maybe they weren't. Checkers was technically my second kill, but I don't think Wolf had actually seen that.
Or maybe he was trying to brand me as his property.
I didn't fucking know.
"Is this because of the kill?" I asked, sounding warier than I had wanted to as I motioned toward the discarded hand. I'd been going for reserved curiosity but instead sounded just plain skeptical. I wasn't even sure if he understood.
However, he nodded.
Though I was sort of suspicious, I figured this alien didn't really gain anything by lying to me. If he wanted anything out of me he'd just use his plethora of muscles to do it, not trick me. I eyed the knife again for a bit, then nodded and straightened up and brushed aside the already-torn neck of my shirt, assuming he was going to put it in the same spot.
From where he was standing, I could make out Brutus muttering what I could only assume were protests. I glanced at him, but he hadn't moved. This must have been what he and Wolf had been discussing moment's prior.
He hesitated for a moment as if gauging my resolve. I tried my best to stop shaking, but I was cold and only getting colder, and his gaze was fierce and predatory without trying to be. It was making me uneasy. At the very least the pain in my legs had subsided to a dull ache thanks to the cold, but I knew the shivering was going to make this hurt more and maybe botch it, like how you were supposed to hold very still for a tattoo.
Finally, he leaned in. I closed my eyes and held my breath all in an attempt to keep myself from trembling. When the tip of the acid-covered knife touched me, I couldn't help but jump from pain and surprise. I balled my hands into fists and willed myself to be still, though it made my whole body tense and my legs ache.
I had survived an alien hive of parasitic monsters. I could survive a silly acid branding.
The whole process only took a few seconds and then I was releasing my held breath with a shudder. I had to resist the urge to scratch my chest, afraid that it would ruin whatever work he'd done. I tried to look at the scar that was undoubtedly there, but all I could see was a red blotch.
Eh, my neck could only bend so far.
Though I wasn't sure what to say or do in response, I felt like I needed to say something. Words failed me, though, as I looked up at Wolf. He didn't seem bothered by it and just inclined his head and closed his eyes.
Was that—respect?
I drew in a breath and reciprocated the gesture, which seemed to please him.
"What does that mean, by the way?" I asked before he could stand. I was back to shivering. "That . . . word. Um. Clual . . . sithway?"
His chest rumbled in that familiar laugh of his and he pointed at me. "Clua-lsih'wei."
Me? I tilted my head and touched my fingertips to my chest. "Is that . . . your name for me? Like how I call you Wolf?"
Could he even understand me without his mask on? I had thought that he'd required the translator . . . if it even had one. He'd obviously dealt with humans before, but to what extent? Did he just understand my curiosity from the tone of my voice and the horrible way I butchered his language?
He pointed at himself. "Sha'ktil-ar." His name. It was much more clear without the mask on like when he'd first introduced himself. Maybe he didn't understand me completely, but he understood enough to try to explain the word. He pointed at me again and repeated the same word, or name, confirming my thoughts. "Clua-lsih'wei."
Though I wanted to know what it meant, it was enough to know it was how he identified me. I figured that would be hard for him to explain, anyway, and if it was some silly name like "puny human" then I didn't want to know.
Instead, I just did my best to parrot him, though his name included a strange click I didn't think I could make. "Chalk . . . ilar." It felt foreign on my tongue and I was embarrassed at the bad attempt. "Clualshiway?"
Brutus scoffed from his corner of the clearing and I shot him a glare.
Again, Wolf just chuckled at my horrid accent, then set his heavy hand on top of my head. I glowered and pulled my head out from under his hand. He chortled, took his mask back from me, stood up, then left me to sit by myself while he moved back to Brutus' side. Fine then, I would just continue calling him Wolf until he made me stop.
A shiver seized my body and was so intense I felt it in my ribcage. "I'm so cold," I muttered, huddling up with my arms wrapped around me. My teeth clattered and made my jaw hurt.
Wolf glanced at me, his mask now back on his face, then held up a hand to tell me to just wait for a bit longer. Then he and Brutus spoke about something, and the grumpier alien took his leave into the trees, toward the bottom of the mountain.
Where their ship was. Maybe to see the damage.
What exactly I wanted wasn't even clear to me. Was I asking him to build me a fire? Maybe pick me again? He'd been so close during the branding that the heat he gave off had staved off some of the drafts before. I was going to have to be carried, whatever they had planned for me.
And I wanted so much to know what they were going to do with me. Clearly not kill me, but what else? They had no more ship and I couldn't walk on my own.
My fingers were starting to feel numb and I breathed into my palms to warm them up. Whatever it was, sitting in the cold by myself with broken legs was definitely worse. The beds of my fingernails were turning purple-blue and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and try to retain some body heat, but every time I tried it sent white-hot bolts of pain to my brain. Sitting with my legs straight out wasn't particularly comfortable, but if I tried to move into a more comfortable position, all I did was hurt myself.
Being on that ship had been better than freezing to death, no matter what the fuck was going on inside it. Maybe they could just move me closer to the wreckage while they called for a pickup. It was clearly burning if the smoke reaching into the sky was any indication. Being close enough to it would keep me toasty.
The woods rustled off to my left and I glanced back to look, and Wolf stopped moving as well, growling and crouching down. That immediately put me on edge and we both just stared, waiting for something to happen.
It didn't seem like there was much to see in the woods but when they shook again, I peered into them to try to see if some stupid squirrel was getting brave. I thought it was too cold for squirrels, though, especially this early in the morning. It had to only be fifteen or twenty minutes until seven o'clock, at the latest.
Leftover fear was telling me it was probably another drone. One that had been off the ship, returning to its queen only to find the ship gone.
But I didn't want to believe that. It was easier to think they were all dead.
Then, an explosion of gunfire reigned from the tree line. Wolf snarled and engaged his cloak, disappearing from sight. I screeched in surprise and threw myself down, twisting so I was face-first on the ground and holding my hands over my head. The movement had required I flip over, though, and white-hot pain lanced up my legs and to my hips, bringing fresh tears to my eyes.
Hands grabbed at my shoulders and brought me up. Adrenaline had chased away some of the cold, and the throbbing in my legs made me forget about the rest of it.
"Shh, it's okay, we're gonna get you outta here."
Eyes wide, I tried the best I could to look up at a person swathed in a military camouflage outfit.
"Where'd it go?" he shouted to his comrades, who had all emerged from the foliage, rifles squared up.
"Disappeared," someone called back.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, the soldier returned his attention to me and asked, "Did that thing hurt you? Were there others?"
All I could do was stare at him in disbelief. Where had these guys come from? I hadn't heard any approaching vehicles, not that I'd been paying attention. A quick scan around revealed other shadowy men lurking around to form a perimeter. My mouth hung open and I resisted his attempts to pull me up.
"Miss—miss it's okay. What's wrong—oh shit." He must have noticed my broken legs, or at least realized that they were hurt. He put a hand to his head, probably an earpiece, but the helmet he wore hid it from my sight. "Legs are injured, possible break. She's freezing cold, has lacerations and burns all over. . . ."
I checked out of his conversation. Rescue—the rescue I'd been hoping for, waiting for. The backup I'd been told about hours ago. But it was technically too late and I didn't even need rescuing anymore. I didn't want to be rescued. I should have been overjoyed to see these people. They were going to take me home, back to town, back to my family.
Back to a school where all my friends were dead, where I'd broken the one rule we'd all been given: don't go out into the woods until the military says it's safe.
Would Wolf even let them? He'd disappeared as soon as they started firing, but would he fight back or fall back to regroup with Brutus and then start a fight? Both of them were outnumbered and outgunned, even though they were formidable.
First the crash, then all the fights with the drones . . . they had to be exhausted and injured. Wolf would be killed, or captured—
In my mind's eye, I saw it. Wolf strapped to some cold gurney, probably dead with his ribcage broken open so they could poke at his insides and see what made him tick. We'd have his technology which meant so much for our science, for our advancement as a species. . .but could I do that to Wolf? I had no doubt that he'd be able to fight these guys off—if he hadn't just spent a whole night fighting and getting injured.
No. I didn't want that. Not even for the jerk Brutus.
Maybe Wolf was an asshole sometimes, but he'd saved my life. There was no denying that. When he could have left me to die, he took me under his wing and not only protected me but gave me the means to protect myself.
"Wuh—"
The man hooked his arms underneath mine and started to pull me backward, but immediately stopped when I cried out and arched my back in pain. "Ah, shit—sorry. You'll be alright. We'll get you fixed up. Are there any more of them?"
Someone to our left let out a loud choking sound before falling in a heap to the ground. Everyone was immediately back on edge, sweeping the trees and nearby area for who had killed him.
"Stop!" I shrieked, clutching the man's arms. "Just let me go!"
Mr. Military stopped short, then shook his head and heaved me up again, calling for someone to come help him with me. "Can't do that, miss. We're gonna get you safe, don't worry about us.
He didn't understand.
I didn't care.
Another couple men on opposite sides fell dead, impaled by invisible weapons. Brutus had come back, that was the only thing that made sense. Maybe together they could kill these men, but that also wasn't something I wanted.
They were just doing their job. They were here to help, to try and figure out what had killed the first group and crashed in my back yard.
"I'll be fine, Wolf, it's not worth it!" I called out again.
"She's delirious. In shock," Mr. Military said to the soldier who had come to help pick me up. The two heaved me up into their arms and I bucked in pain, biting back the scream. I didn't want to give Wolf any reason to be mad at them.
Though I tried not to struggle too much, they were having way more trouble than Wolf had to carry me back into the trees, and each step and lurch sent another fresh wave up my spine.
From the line of men; "Bogies in camo, can't see them! Not sure how many. Two, maybe more."
"Please, just go!" I demanded, flinging my arm to punctuate my point.
Had that been vibrant green blood I'd caught a glimpse of?
"We're gonna get out of here, calm down!" My rescuer gave up using his help and heaved me up to toss me over his shoulder fireman style, causing me to gasp. Pain lanced all the way up to my midsection, causing my vision to blur. Even the sounds of gunfire seemed muffled like I had been dunked in a vat of water.
I successfully fought off the darkness. "Go," I whispered, pleaded.
Though the blurriness, I saw the bend and twist of light as either Wolf or Brutus slipped by. The soldiers seemed to have caught on and fired at where he had been, tightening their line to separate us from the fighting.
The trees started to close in and I tried to keep my head up, tried to make sure he was leaving. I heard the muffled sound of his familiar roar somewhere in the trees. Relief had me sagging against Mr. Military. At least he'd fallen back, but I couldn't speak for Brutus. He seemed like the kinda guy that would be out for blood regardless.
We broke through the woods back into the open, where Wolf and I had jumped from the falling ship. When I lifted my head, I spotted black vehicles parked, blades twisting leisurely.
Helicopters—the buzzing and humming I'd heard earlier.
How had I not made that connection?
I had been expecting them all night, and yet I had forgotten all about them because I hadn't wanted to go home.
Now, that was just where I was going because I'd been too stupid or blind to warn Wolf that they'd be coming. They were still shooting out behind us, either still fighting someone or unaware that they had fallen back.
If they'd fallen back.
All I could do was hope that they had, or that if they really wanted to fight . . . they would win.
Part of me—the selfish, scared part—wished that Wolf would try a little harder, but most of me was relieved. Relieved that he had enough brains as well as brawn to know which battles to pick, that he was at least ok for a little while longer.
Relieved that I was going back to the home I knew.
And terrified by what that meant for me.
