Runaway Mate

The Start Three hours and thirty two minutes. That was how long I had been running. My skull throbbed unpleasantly, and my eyes felt leaden. Every step ahead sent a sharp pain lancing up my spine and I could hardly tell where I was headed, but I knew I had to put as much ground behind me as my legs would allow. The pack that had once been my whole world was now little more than hell to me. If I went back, every dream my mother held for me would collapse into ash and rubble, and my father's sacrifice would mean nothing. But my heart still ached. The pain, the loss, the brutal intensity of the last twenty-four hours, all of it gathered into a hurricane of emotion in one corner of my chest, and it had nowhere to go. But I did. I hardened myself and ran. Leaves crackled beneath my feet and I felt my muscles knotting through my core. The smell of old blood clung to my skin, and I hoped that someday I would forget how it had felt there, against my skin and along my fur. I felt a strange yet expected pull in my chest, and the raging ache and dread inside me went utterly silent for a single heartbeat. Then it crashed back into me all over again, fiercer than before. I had done it. I had crossed the pack boundary. The snapping of the bond that had lived gently inside me since birth was vicious, driving me flat to my belly as I wished I could rip my chest apart. Every tie I had to my pack had broken and curled in on itself, releasing me from their threatening hands and the suffering. My wolf whimpered, a raw shattered sound that mirrored my pain, but she still drove us onward, her will stronger than the burn in our lungs and the pain in our legs. I let tears spill down my face once I could no longer hear wolves behind me, allowing myself one more moment of weakness. My wolf was still new to me, this wild piece of myself I did not know yet, but trusted completely. I trusted she could keep me safe, that her strength was mine to borrow. I felt that strength inside me, raw and unfiltered, but even she was starting to fail. Her steps slowed, every joint in our limbs threatening to buckle beneath the strain of holding us up. She did not want me anywhere near harm, but she could not keep running. So I slowed, catching the scent of a few deer grazing nearby. My stomach let out low rumbles, begging for food, and I knew that without it I would not be able to put any more distance between myself and my captors. I crept ahead as carefully as I was able, wincing when my front shoulder brushed a thick-trunked tree. My reddened, heavy eyes fixed on the herd within my sight, oblivious to the threat nearby. As I prepared myself to lunge at the herd, a soft crunch from my right made me freeze. While I was focused on the food, a large brown wolf caught me off guard, standing before me on strong limbs, ugly battle scars speaking of age and experience. It was far too big for me to fight, especially since I barely had the training or strength left to bring it down. I knew running was my best chance, but I doubted my legs would listen. My inner wolf growled, a low rumble rising into a loud snarl. Rogue. The word clicked through my mind, but before I could react, it was all over me, teeth bared and ripping. I would not fall that fast, but what choice did I have if my body would not cooperate. Our wolves circled, measuring each other, neither of us ready to give in. Him for his pride, me for my survival. At some point during the useless circling, the ugly, vicious-looking, immensely scarred wolf lunged again, its powerful jaws snapping. The blinding pain in my hind legs, where I guessed the rogue had ripped away a chunk of flesh, made everything black out for a moment, and stars burst past the darkness. What an awful way to die, not even lasting a single day out here. My wolf snapped at my attacker, weak and unsteady, but I was still exhausted and worn thin. Maybe somewhere else I would be free to romp through the grass and hunt for food. Somewhere behind me, another snarl joined the noise, and a storm of growls and cracking branches exploded around me, the chaos sharpened in my injured head. A sharp whine and fresh blood on the air gave me just enough strength to open my eyes, straining to see how the fight that started after I fell had ended. Had someone saved me, or was I about to be next? I tried to move, to plead, to do anything that might save me, but I could feel consciousness slowly sliding away. The last thing I saw before drifting off was a boy with greyish-blue eyes, and they made me think of the pond out back at home. Pretty. The boy looked calmly at my matted fur, then drew in a sharp breath before he let out, "Rogue."