Moonfall | Book Two

CHAPTER 10

He had to find him.

He had to save him.

He had to get to safety.

And so, he ran.

He had no clear destination in sight as the Woodlands was foreign territory he had never explored before. So, as much as the light casted down from the full moon tried to navigate him through the snowy lands, the darkness of the night was so great that even if he found the correct path that would lead him out—lead him back home—he would not have recognized it.

Even in wolf form he feared his speed would not be enough to outrun them. But he could not afford to be caught.

He did not know how long he had been running, but he did not dare stop. Adrenaline kept him from slowing his pace, and fear kept him from looking behind to see if he was still being chased.

Just as he jumped over a fallen tree, a dark cloaked figure suddenly appeared in front of him. With no opportunity to avoid the collision, he braced himself for the impact. But the figure took a single step forward and lunged at him.

He cried out when he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, and his body hit the cold ground hard. He tried to move, to get up, but the pain was so great it had completely incapacitated him.

He had been caught.

And as he listened to the crunch of snow beneath the feet of the approaching cloaked figure, he knew his pain would soon come to an end.

He had failed to protect him. To save him.

He fought to keep his eyes open, but only managed to see a flash of red before darkness grabbed hold of him and pulled him under.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bright full moon hanging above him in the dark starry sky. It took a second for him to remember he was in the Woodlands, but failed to remember how he ended up passed out and laying in the snow.

He made a move to get up when pain erupted from his stomach and made it impossible. He looked down to find an open wound and his blood staining the snow beneath him.

Panic struck him hard, and was quickly followed by fear.

He was dying. He was dying and he did not know why or how.

Had it been them? Was this his punishment? There was a nagging feeling—perhaps even an answer or thought—at the back of his mind, but he could not coax it into coming to the forefront.

Instead, he thought of his mother and hoped his death would not break her. Next, his father, and hoped, well, for nothing as he knew he would not shed a tear for him. Lastly, he thought of his brother, and hoped he would not blame himself.

Apart from his shallow breaths, the Woodlands was eerily quiet. Peaceful. Even though he was far from the comforts and familiarity of his home, and an intruder in a foreign land, he thought it might not be the worst place to die.

As he laid in the snow, the pain in his stomach slowly started to subside, and a coldness he had never felt before began to spread throughout every part of his body. Soon, it became a struggle to keep his eyes opened as he felt himself getting weaker by the second.

It would not be long.

All he could do was look up at the moon through blurred vision and let out a whimper. For help? Hope? He was not entirely sure. He had no strength to howl, so perhaps it had been his way of saying goodbye.