Hide And Go Seek

Four

 

         Four

  

   "Here wolfy, wolfy, wolfy..." I whisper beneath my breath.

   I found the perfect spot for Werewolf hunting. Oakwood. Mum used to take me and Janine here as children and teach us how to find the creatures we were meant to hunt down and kill.

   "Just stand still, breathe. Don’t force it to come to you, okay? Just, wait for it," she whispers, standing between us with her eyes shut.

   I glance left and right, all around me but I don’t see anything. Then I look at them. Both stand in an upright position, arms dangling by their sides with their eyes closed.

   I let out a small impatient sigh and close my eyes. "Mum, this is taking forever. Why haven’t we found anything yet?"

   "Shut up and concentrate," she snaps furiously. 

   I roll my eyes and try to concentrate, try to picture it all – everything that she’s told me should be coming to me. Instead, I feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing.

   "This is stupid," I mutter.

   She pushes me, hard and I fall over, scratching my arm on the bark of a tree. I land hard to find their eyes open, mum looking pissed off and laughter swimming in Janine’s eyes.

   "If you won’t do this properly then get lost, go home. I can’t be bothered with you tonight."

   Feeling tears sting my eyes, I clamber to my feet and stumble away.

 

   I hear a squeal in the still night and everything... shuts off. Like a switch has been flicked – all the animals shut up, all the trees stopped moving – there is not a single noise.

   Until another squeal breaks through the sky followed by a howl. I wait three seconds and then another echoes – and another until the haunting song of the hunt fills the air.

   Feeling my fingers move to my belt, I finger the weapons I keep close to me. Then, taking a deep breath, I begin to follow the sounds.

   I move quietly, following the messy trail the wolves have left behind. I take one whiff and I know they’re Werewolves. A damn pack of Werewolves – how’d mum and Janine let this one slip?

   I pull out my beautiful 22. Magnum – filled with molten silver bullets, the perfect weapon for taking out Werewolves.

   I hide within the bushes and grab some leaves and twigs, crumbling them in my hands and allowing the tiny bits left to float through the air, masking my scent.

   I watch as three Werewolves take down this giant warthog. It squeals and grunts as they rip into its skin, biting and scratching... until finally it stops jerking and fighting.

   I count the Wolves as they feed. Eight. There’s no way I could take them all out, not just by myself... but perhaps if I could just get one on their own.

   I look closer, allowing my senses to overtake my body, to stretch out and feel the Wolves. I look for illness, some kind of weakness – anything that might make one easier to take out.

   I notice a slightly scrawny young male. He sits away from the others and scratches furiously – as if he has fleas. Which he probably does – ticks and worms as well.

   He’s clearly the outcast, the bottom of the pack. I watch how the other wolves take their fill and begin to stalk off. Even when there’s only one wolf left and the outcast attempts to take some – he gets snapped at.

   So he waits, twitching impatiently. Finally the other wolf trots off as well and he’s left to pick at the bones.

   As I wait, I can feel my heart beginning to pick up pace. I take a long, calming breath and hold the gun up. I position it, feeling everything around me stretch and zoom out as I concentrate on shooting the Werewolf straight in the chest. 

   A noise to the right and I jump, shooting it in the leg instead. I twist my head to see a wolf running right at me. 

   The full weight of it hits me. It snaps and snarls; trying its damn hardest to rip out my throat. I struggle beneath it, one arm pressed across its throat as my other reaches for the gun that’s just out of my reach.

   It turns its head for a second and lets out a loud bark at the whimpering injured Wolf. It pauses before stumbling away in the direction of the other wolves.

   Great, now that damn wolf is going to get the rest of the pack – and I’m going to be dinner.

   I kick it in the gut, hard and it grunts but still attempts to dig in and bite. I kick again and this time, it jerks backwards.

   As soon as I stand, I whirl around to grab my gun. Just as I pick it up, the weight of the wolf hits me again and knocks me down.

   I turn around beneath the snarling wolf, the breath hot on my neck and face, making me nauseated. I shoot – but it goes wild. 

   The wolf snarls in response and its jaws open wide. I throw my arm out to block my face and throat – and the front of its teeth just manage to slash across my arm.

   I let out a scream of pain, shooting again – this time it hits the wolf in its shoulder.

   It leaps back with a howl. I scramble to my feet, gasping in pain, watching it writhe for a moment before charging at me. I lift my leg to kick it in the face – but before I can, another wolf jumps out and knocks it to the ground.

   Both wolves tumble to the ground, snarling viciously. I watch in surprise, completely shocked – why would this wolf try to save me?

   They fight viciously for roughly twenty seconds – and I stand by, useless, clutching my injured arm. Finally the first jerks away from my ‘saviour’ and bounds off into the distance.

   This other wolf pauses to turn and look at me, breathing slightly laboured, hackles still raised. I get to glimpse the grey – almost liquid silver – eyes and then it disappears in a flash of dark fur.