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 of blood overcomes all sound in the area,

in my

churns

flesh. A guttural yelp

a large adult wolf and

lungs as I

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Ava: Fighting Back

from my grasp. Stars explode across my vision before it fades,

in a rush. I’m pinned beneath Todd’s paws, pressing down on my shoulders with crushing force. His hot breath washes over me in waves of

inches from my

writhe, but his claws are like miniature daggers digging into

unyielding.

manage to free one arm and lash out blindly, my nails raking across his muzzle and smacking against one eye.

my mark, but it

snort, giving me a moment of opportunity.

to the side, scrambling for the knife as

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the knife, its silver blade glinting in the moonlight. I’m bleeding. The scent of

Ava: Fighting Back

Faster, damn it.

just as Todd crashes down where I’d been lying just moments before. His jaws snap shut with a resounding clack. Flecks of spittle and foam coat

a white–knuckled grip, I lash out wildly, the blade slicing a shallow gash across his ear, his neck. A

still involved in their own struggles several feet away. How many have set upon us? Too many to count. Did the entire

worry about

have to deal

fucking freight train. I stumble, gasping for air as his claws rake across my

Agony.

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Fighting Back

the pain, I stab into anything I can, wild jabs of my hand. I hit something,

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

with a startled scream, and he’s on

position to dodge. I have no time to

scrabble against the knife as

in slick streaks of crimson. A strangled whine escapes his muzzle before he finally goes limp, his full

gasp for air, no longer suffocated by his rancid breath.