Hunter Hunter

Chapter 1

She woke up shivering, spine painfully pressed against a cold concrete wall. Her eyes flickered open and her hands subconsciously rubbed against her goosebumps to help the chill. The air was dark and damp, and one entire wall was metal bars. Upon closer inspection: silver, or more of a diluted silver; enough to burn werewolves but not enough to hurt. 

There was nothing else in the room. She could hear faint shuffling of feet and the occasional sniffle echo through the room. The faint light in the hallways did not allow her to see her companions in the dungeon. 

Her voice stopped in the middle of the throat, "H-" She swallowed, "Hello?" 

Someone stopped mid-shuffle. No response. 

There was a jangle of keys in the distance then the sound of lock unlatching. 

"We got two of them," Heavy steps thudded down a set of stairs. 

Someone else was here? Hope soared in her chest. 

"One's here," The voices stopped a few feet to her right, she could still not see who they were. There was a slight pause, "The other one is over there." There was a jangle of keys. 

"Whats your name boy?" A dark husky voice roughly asked. Clara's ears perked up to catch the name. 

"Alan," The voice was small, meek. 

A sharp stab of disappointment hit her heart. Although the hunting group was small and they were close, there were still members that she wasn't close to. Shes seen Alan, he was a strong and courageous fighter, as was the father before him and the father before his father. He had no real motivation to hunt, other than the fact that generations of Segwalkers have been successful werewolves hunters. She didn't know him quite well, and therefore was harder for her to collaborate with in an escape. 

Clara couldn't help but hope for someone better. Like Kent, or Daniel, someone who she already knew she could work well with. 

"What were you guys doing the forest?" The guy questioned. Clara listened intently, don't give out the answer. 

"Nothing." She let out an inaudible sigh of relief. 

There was an angry growl and bars clucked heavily against the walls, "Don't tell me its nothing, kid. There was an obvious reason, and you're not telling me." 

Don't tell him Alan, or else the entire plan would be sabotaged. 

There was a sort of unspoken word in the hunting group - especially among those like Clara who were especially devoted to the cause - don't expose the plans. Sacrifice your life for the greater good. It had to be done.  

The first voiced piped up again, "If not you, then maybe your little teammate could give us the answer?" 

Footsteps approached Clara's cell. Two men rounded the corner. One was a few inches shorter, but both were tall and broad-shouldered with thick corded muscles. From her vantage point, she could barely distinguish their faces, but nevertheless she narrowed her eyes in a threatening manner. 

"Whats your name." The shorter man asked gruffly. Clara refused to speak. She wasn't going to say a single word to these cold blooded beasts. They were inhumane demons who prayed to their so called moon-goddess. 

"I said, whats your name." Fear crawled down her spine and she tamped down the urge to curl against the wall. There was a few seconds of silence before the taller man growled. 

"Name. Now." Two simple words dripped in absolute malice made the air turn chillingly cold. 

She hated that her words shook, "C-Clara." 

"Tell me, what were your motives for the attack?" His voice was oddly soothing but still sparked a series of warning alarms off in her mind. 

"We-" She stopped herself just in time. Her hands shook, either from fear or from the cold. Greater good. Greater good. Greater good. She pressed them underneath the torn fabric of her tights. Stay strong. 

There was a slight pause and the taller man leaned his hands against the metal bars. He didn't even flinch. Wasn't diluted silver supposed to hurt? Was he not a werewolf? 

His face was now at a proximity in which she could clearly see him. A strong aristocratic nose with a dust of a five o'clock shadow against his jaw line. Sharp dark brown eyes glittered under a curtain of long lashes. The dull lighting created sharp geometric shadows along his cheek bone. He was handsome. But she won't let that phase her. Shes seen handsome men before, he'll just be another one on the list. 

There was a quick heated moment when their eyes connected, but she wasn't sure, as the moment left as briefly as it arrived. 

He growled, a dark primitive sound from the depths of his chest, "They're useless." 

"Not entirely," The shorter man refuted, a little hesitantly. 

"Fine." The words were sharp with an edge of something, Clara couldn't quite distinguish, "I want information out of them by the end of this week, Jason. And I want information." 

The two men turned to leave, the shorter man seemed to hunch a little at the order, "Yes Alpha." 

Clara shakily extracted her hands from underneath the body and curled up into a ball. The sinking feeling in her chest dully warned her of what the order might mean. 

--

A few minutes later, or seconds, or hours or days - she couldn't tell. Time blurred and collided into one another in the dungeon, food came in. It was pushed roughly between the slots of the cell; big enough for a bowl of food, not big enough for her body to fit. 

"Lunch." Was the gruff reply to her silent question. 

She stood still. Her hair was filthy, she hasn't changed for days and she sat in the same position in the same place of the cell for the entirety of her stay. 

Clara didn't want to accept the food. She wasn't going to accept anything, not matter how large the kindness, she wasn't going to relent to them. They were the last people she'd even consider to become allies with. 

She scoffed. Were they even people? Mutants, aliens, children of demons were more apt descriptions of werewolves. They killed mercilessly, had religious moon cults and devoted their lives to a monarchical and corrupt system. Clara could see nothing that even vaguely hinted at a democratic and humane society. 

She sat, staring silently at the bowl, her eyes tracing the counters along the lump of brown meat in the middle. 

I'm not going to eat it. Bitterness soared in her chest and tears pricked at the corner of her eyes. Stay strong. It was her mantra that kept her alive. Clara was not going to allow them have any hold over her.  

Soon, the familiar thud of feet came closer and the same man picked up the bowl again. Looking at her with regretful eyes and a slow shake of his head he left her hungry. Clara's stomach churned with regret, and she yearned to beg for the food back. The first stings of hunger scratched at her stomach but she held herself back. Instead, she settled down, her bones digging into the concrete and drifted into an uncomfortable sleep. 

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Please tell me if there are any mistakes! Thank you. xx