The Wolf Among Us (Completed)

Chapter 2 - Carcass

In the forest, everything was silent, aside from the hiss of leaves shifting in the wind like a serpent's whisper. An untrained eye would never notice Magnus hidden amongst the trees. Years of practice taught him to remain absolutely still while observing his next meal. There, in a beam of sunlight seeping through the branches, stood a deer—its ears twitching as it sniffed the air. The buck would never smell him. Not with his skin caked in earth.

When the deer resumed chewing dry corn scattered across the ground, Magnus positioned his bow, drew in a breath, and released the arrow upon exhaling. The buck took off, and what remained were leaves floating back down in its wake. Calmly slinging the bow over his shoulder, he began following the dotted trail of blood, his bare feet nearly blending with the brown earth. Up ahead, the deer slowed and collapsed to the ground—a quick death. One he hoped wouldn't taint the meat with adrenaline.

The breeze picked up, and weaved through his limbs, sending a chill up his neck, giving him pause. Something didn't feel right. Proceeding carefully, he noticed a strange lump leaning against a tree just a few feet from where the buck fell. Squinting, he tried making out what it was.

He crept slowly and crouched to get a better look, only to discover it was human. Dark, matted curls covered their face and arms, so he swept a few tendrils aside to identify them.

"¡No me toques!" they growled, and he flinched away from the glass shard swiping at him.

"Easy, easy." He held up his hands.

"¡Lárgate!"

Backing away, Magnus kept his hands up while studying the mystery woman's face. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her bottom lip was split open. She winced while stumbling to her feet, and he noticed she was clutching her blood-soaked arm to her chest.

"Escucha, no quiero hacerte daño. I want to help you. I have medicine in my truck," Magnus said.

"I don't need your help!"

"So, you speak English," he chuckled. "Have you taken a look at yourself? Because it looks like you need help to me."

The woman lifted her chin to stare him down with her good eye, and he realized how odd he must appear with mud and moss covering his body. He also noted how young she was, and in her vulnerable state, she was bound to wind up in more trouble. If he walked away now, and she were killed, the guilt would eat him alive. And he already lived with many regrets.

"What happened to you?"

"I was attacked."

"Where?"

"The wasteland."

"It's not safe to travel the open road without a group. Were your people killed?"

"I wish." She leaned against the tree and winced again.

"Pardon?"

"I don't have people anymore. I-" she paused, her good eye searching the dense forest, and then said, "I ran away."

"Why?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions!"

"You're on my land. How else can I assess if you're a threat to my people?"

"I... I come from the west."

"Funny. You don't look like a fisherman or a farmer."

"Well, I am!"

"Prove it."

"How?"

"Show me your hands," he said, and the woman held out her uninjured one so that he could examine the skin of her palm. "They're a little too rough compared to the hands I've seen at trading posts. These look more like they belong to a warrior."