Edited
Chapter 4- I hate needles
The snarling wolf releases a deep thundering growl that reverberates through my body and trembles the earth beneath my feet. I cautiously step back as it's jaggedly cut nails sink into the layers of mud and rotting leaves as it prowls closer with hunter like grace. Teeth gnashing wickedly together as its blackened mouth pulls back into a vicious snarl.
Shit.
My stomach twists as I keep my eyes pinned on the scout, throwing my senses out but maintaining focus on the savage hunter before me.
It's murky, yellow eyes shift into a darker shade, the stench of decomposing flesh sweeps up my nostrils as my eyes slide to the stained teeth that are as sharp as needles, glinting maliciously in the dim moonlight flickering through the trees above.
Fingers clenching tightly around the chilling hilt of my dagger I tug at my nerve.
I've got this.
It's eyes flicker to the movement, sensing my change in emotion as it responds, releasing another vicious snarl whilst beginning to circle me.
Carefully plotting its next move.
"You lost little guy?" I jerk my free hand in the direction it came from as I respond calmly "survivals that way."
A rumbling, gut wrenching growl vibrates through its large body as those haunting, ravenous eyes track my every movement.
A warning.
A threat.
I maintain my cool even as my heart thunders in my chest and adrenalin rushes through me. My eyes flicker to those glinting yellow teeth as I internally berate myself for forgetting my freaking bow and only having two bloody daggers on me.
At least it's only one Wol...
Another set of sapphire blue eyes peer through the darkness at me, its black lips curl back into a snarl as the second Rogue stalks further out of the darkness growling deeply. The conjoining growls rumble through the forest as they near me.
Well. Shit.
A quiet more violent voice in the back of my head assesses the situation two scouts, definitely scouts they're too scrappy to be warriors. I can do this... I can take them on easily!
I bite my lip.
I've got this.
Sapphire and yellows eyes continue to prowl closer, the stench of their blood crusted fur informing me of their recent kill. Question is; was it Pack or Human and are they still alive?
My expression becomes cold. I can't think about that. I need to focus. I readjust the grip on my dagger.
They won't be taking any more lives tonight.
"You should've stayed at home. Scouts are always the first to fall" I taunt. The words are cold, unfeeling and threatening as the two rogues tread harshly on the forest floor. The coarse snap of twigs and crisp crunch of leaves snap under their large powerful paws. I refuse to wince at the bone snapping sounds, remaining trained on their rugged appearance and their rotten almost burnt scent which marks them as Rogues.
No Pack Member has that scent.
Besides their own unique scent Pack members have a shared scent that merges into their own, clearly striking them as Pack Wolves. Rogues - violent, bloodthirsty ones - have the scent of death and decay.
It's their own personal calling card.
I calm myself, rolling my shoulders to relieve the tension as I keep both scouts in my line of vision knowing if I lose sight of even one of them I'd be dead.
