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.

his throat and I dash to the side, my heart pounding in frantic rhythm. The rush of blood overcomes all

in my ears.

churns in my

out with the knife again, the blade slicing through fur and flesh. A guttural yelp tears from his throat, but his momentum carries him

into me with all the force of a large adult

my lungs as I hit the

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Fighting

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

beneath Todd’s paws, pressing down on my shoulders with crushing force. His

his muzzle inches

writhe, but his claws are like miniature daggers digging into

unyielding.

arm and lash out blindly, my nails raking across his

my mark, but it startles him.

a snort, giving me a

side, scrambling for the knife

website on Gøøglᴇ to

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

Fighting Back

Faster, damn it.

been lying just moments before. His jaws snap shut with

knife with a white–knuckled grip, I lash out wildly, the blade slicing a shallow gash across his ear, his neck. A guttural yelp rips from his throat

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

I can’t worry about

have to deal

gasping for air as his claws rake across my abdomen,

Agony.

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Ava: Fighting

hand. I hit something,

of his head and

scream, and

to dodge. I have no time

slams me into the ground beneath him. My fingers scrabble against the knife as I yank it out and stab again and again, even as

in slick streaks of crimson. A strangled whine escapes

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