Tangled

<79 Ava: Fighting Back

79 Ava: Fighting Back

Todd’s wolf form prowls closer, his hackles bristling with menace. His eyes burn with a feral hunger that sends tremors through me. Anticipation hums in the

air between us.

The tree trunk is rough against my back as I use it for support, forcing my body to its feet. The cool weight of the pocketknife in my hand keeps me centered.

I will not cower.

The mysterious energy from before, that primal force filling my veins, is gone. It’s a fleeting whisper of the past, eluding my grasp no matter how desperately I

search for it.

All I have is my training and the small knife I’d stolen from home.

I flip open the blade with a flick of my thumb, the soft click lost amidst the snarls and growls of the ongoing battle around us. At least, I hope it’s lost. I know wolf hearing is keen, but I don’t know its limitations.

Todd’s lips peel back in a vicious snarl, revealing

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79 Ava: Fighting Back

yellowed canines. It figures that even his wolf’s teeth

would need some work. His breath had always smelled

like those tuna sandwiches he eats.

He lunges, a blur of ruddy fur and gnashing jaws.

Instinct has me diving to the side, scrabbling for purchase on the uneven ground. He whirls to face me as I roll to my knees, gripping the knife tightly as I swipe at his muzzle. The blade catches a superficial level of skin and fur, drawing a thin line of crimson that only seems to enrage him further.

pounding in frantic rhythm. The rush of blood overcomes all sound in the area,

my

jaws snap shut inches from my face. Nausea churns in my belly, courtesy of

out with the knife again, the blade slicing through fur and flesh. A guttural

a large

from my lungs as I

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Fighting Back

my grasp. Stars explode across my

Todd’s paws, pressing down on my shoulders with crushing

stench, his muzzle inches from

thrash and writhe, but his claws are like

unyielding.

adrenaline–fueled strength, I manage to free one arm and lash out

mark, but it startles

giving

roll to the side, scrambling for

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for the knife, its silver blade glinting in the moonlight. I’m bleeding. The scent of my blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest

Fighting Back

Faster, damn it.

Todd crashes down where I’d been lying just moments before. His

his ear, his neck. A guttural yelp rips from his throat as he snaps at my arm, ripping

are still involved in their own struggles several feet away. How many have set

can’t worry

deal with

fucking freight train. I stumble, gasping for air as his claws rake across my abdomen, tearing through fabric and

Agony.

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Fighting

pain, I stab into anything I can, wild jabs of my hand. I hit something, because blood coats my hilt

movement of his head and upper body somehow and I backpedal, my

startled scream, and he’s on me

dodge. I have no

ground beneath him. My fingers scrabble against the knife as

coating my hands in slick streaks of crimson. A strangled whine escapes his muzzle before he finally

longer suffocated by his rancid breath. There’s no