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.

the side, my heart pounding in frantic rhythm. The rush

my ears.

inches from my face. Nausea churns in my belly, courtesy of his

slicing through fur and flesh. A guttural yelp tears from his

force of a large adult

whooshes from my lungs as I hit the ground,

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Fighting

Stars explode across my vision before it fades,

I’m pinned beneath Todd’s paws, pressing down on my shoulders

inches from

and writhe, but his claws are like miniature daggers digging into my skin, immovable

unyielding.

arm and lash out blindly, my nails raking

don’t hit my mark,

back with a snort, giving me a moment of opportunity.

to the side, scrambling for the knife as

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way as my fingers scrabble for the knife, its silver blade glinting in the moonlight. I’m bleeding. The scent of my

Ava: Fighting Back

Faster, damn it.

snatch the knife and whirl onto my back just as Todd crashes down where I’d been lying just moments

ear, his neck. A guttural yelp rips from

several feet away. How many have set upon

worry

have to deal with

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

Agony.

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Fighting

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

ground with a wide movement of his head and upper

scream, and he’s

in no position to dodge. I have no time to

My fingers scrabble against the knife as

strangled whine escapes his muzzle before he finally goes limp, his full weight collapsing atop

his rancid breath. There’s no breath at all. Only blood