Why'd It Have To Be Wolves?

The creatures bounding toward us are about as much like wolves as… well, as I’d imagine someone who didn’t know what a wolf looked like was described one by someone with lupophobia.

Unspeakably large teeth stick out of long, snarled muzzles. Huge paws – it’s doing them a disservice to call them that, really – have thick, jagged, bone-colored claws that rake deep into the earth with each stride. Both are swathed in dark gray fur, with strange bluish markings glowing on their flanks. I can’t make out what they are at all, but I’ve got bigger problems anyway. I’m rooted to the ground, stiff and unmoving, like my brain thinks they’re a pair of Tyrannosaurus rexes who will walk right by me in search of another snack if I stay still enough.

I try to keep a level head, though my attempts at deep breaths are thwarted by the complete seizure of my throat. All I can do is fill my thoughts with rational talking points: this is a dream, remember? You’re just stuck in your own head. You’re totally and completely fine. None of this is real. None of this is real. None of this is real.

Ruelle steps in front of me and draws her sword, looking about as threatening as a bumblebee. She’s trembling.

I only notice that she’s speaking to me when the rush in my ears fades: “—sword, my lady!”

“Sword?”

“Your sword! You—” she turns her head. “D-did you leave it in the crypt?”

I definitely left it in the crypt.

“Um, should I go back and get it?”

Ruelle’s face falls. Something shifts in her gaze, and I think she finally understands that I’m not Eluin. Or at the very least, if I am, five hundred years of sleep left me… indisposed.

There’s no time left for me to even apologize for being useless before the wolf-creatures strike. The first lunges at Ruelle, where she barely manages a counterattack that grazes its snout in the midst of her dodge.

The second howls, snapping at her. Ruelle’s light on her feet, stepping this way and that, positioning herself out of danger as best as she can while throwing meager strikes in return, which aren’t more than quick swipes and half-hearted jabs.

It’s at this moment that I realize Ruelle might be as clueless when it came to sword fighting as I am.

And that we are both in deep shit.

One of the wolves breaks out of its aggressive trance to stare past Ruelle, directly at me, the helpless meat. Beady red eyes sharpen, and it growls.

Oh no.

It bounds easily around my protector, who tries her best to distract it with a good cut to its flank, but even though the attack lands, the creature is unfazed.

There’s a moment where time slows as I face my imminent death. In it, I take several involuntary steps backward, my heart thumping, and I think just maybe I’ve finally taken hold of the ‘flight’ part of my instincts. I just need to turn around, put one foot in front of the other, and run back to the safety of the tomb. If I can get the sword, maybe—

But I trip on a rock and fall instead, landing on my behind.

There’s nothing keeping the wolf from me now, and it knows. The meters between us disappear.

Ruelle hops backward, out of range of the other wolf, and pulls something from her pocket. She’s flustered, breathing heavily. With shaking hands, she traces something on her palm.

I can see the tendrils of saliva snapping as the wolf’s jaw parts, gunning for the kill.

Strangely, the last thought before I meet my untimely end is of my cat.

Sorry, Beckett. I should have given you that extra scoop of food this morning. I shouldn’t have left you and come to this world. Even if I was dragged here involuntarily.

A flash of yellow light consumes my vision as Ruelle yells, “Szarat!”

---

For a minute, I think this blinding aura is the beginning of my soul’s ascent into the afterlife. I feel no pain, meaning the wolf must have swallowed me up in one bite or chomped my head off in a clean sweep. Well, at least it didn’t hurt.

But then things slowly start to fade back in. I blink, and I’m back in the grassy fields of Tor Reuna. The wolf, centimeters away from me, is slumped over in a daze.

I gasp and cough. How long have I been holding my breath, waiting to die? The coughs become uncontrollable pants, and soon I’m hyperventilating, scooting backwards in the dirt, my limbs jellied.

Ruelle’s hands are on my arm, pulling me up. I stagger to my feet, anxiety and adrenaline in some wayward mixture coursing through me, keeping me upright when I should have fallen right back over. Her voice is blistering in my ear: “Run! Lady Eluin, run!”

She takes my hand and starts off, dragging my stumbling body behind her. My eyes are hot, vision blurry. We’re sprinting toward the town, but I’m dead weight. My gait is stiff and awkward in the armor. I’m picking up some speed, but I can tell by the panicked shouting of Ruelle that I’m not fast enough.

A howl behind us sends a shiver up my spine. I don’t even dare to turn and look, but Ruelle does; the terror on her face is enough of an indicator for me to understand perfectly.

“Leave me,” I try to say, but I’m thoroughly winded and can't breathe. “Save yourself!”

She doesn’t even do my request the justice of a response. Her hand clasps mine tighter, her tugs on me more fervent.

My ears start ringing. No, wait, not my ears – a bell is tolling somewhere, the sound reminding me of my phone’s morning alarm and causing me to flinch. It booms as we grow nearer the village, and we’re almost to its outskirts when several things all happen at once.

My foot sinks into a patch of soft earth, causing me to lose my balance.

Ruelle shouts my name – my real name.

Something sharp slices the back of my calf.

I’m halfway to tumbling to the ground when Ruelle yanks me, throwing my body down the slip of the hill we were descending and maneuvering herself into the path of our assailants.

Pain screams through me as I tumble. I try to curl, tucking my legs and arms inward, which gives me enough protection to save myself a good crack in the head when I roll into the base of a tree at the bottom of the mound. My eyes are squeezed shut, but tears still escape them, blotting my vision when I finally pry them open. I can see just enough through the blur to notice a figure dash toward us from Highcreek’s outskirts. He passes me, clearing the distance in sure strides, gunning straight for Ruelle who he pushes out of the way of the beasts.

But I’m not blessed enough to see the aftermath. My body gives way to the accumulated shock, and I collapse into unconsciousness.