THE ROGUE WOLF

by Klaire London

  I bite the side of my cheek, the metallic taste of blood spilling onto my tongue. It was something I only did when the pit of my stomach told me that something was wrong. "No, they're not," I utter at lightning speed, getting all of the thoughts out of my head as rapidly as I can. I glance at every face in turn, taking in the range of facial features, from a broken nose, to a face half covered with unhealable burns. "What if this is a trap? What if they know?"

  Josh's forehead creased with distress, "But how would they know?"

  I sigh. "I don't know, but we're here now. We may as well try and succeed rather than ultimately fail."

  The fourteen other werewolves - and Josh - around me all nod their heads in unison. "I'm not going back without a prize," one mutters, gaining whispered cheers from the other members of the group.

  "I'm sure it's not a trap. How could they know?" Another uttered - Jason, I think his name was.

  "Draw your swords. If this is a trap, we're not going down without a fight," I say , raising the volume of my voice slightly, and the others reply to my comment with a battle cry of triumph.

  Without further ado, we hastily make our way out of the tree line that had concealed us within the blanket of shadows, and out into the open clearing. The wind had died down, but it still whistled through the site like a haunting ghost. As we hastily made our way towards the centrepiece of the rogue's territory, the scene became more and more ominous. A fire still flickered with everlasting life, a bowl lying face down on the floor beside the flames. Our group took another ten steps forward, continuously getting close and closer to our goal, and the closer we got, the more my hope grew.

  Continuing to stride forward, I spot a stand of swords that had toppled to the ground, the blades lying scattered in the frostbitten mud. That was a disconcerting sign that maybe this wasn't a trap after all - the wind could've knocked over the weapons, and if the rogues were planning an attack, they would've taken all of the swords to maximise their chance of winning.

  I shake my head, and walk onwards towards our goal. I hated how the camp was silent, and by this point I was almost certain that it was a trap, but there was no point turning back now. Not when we were so close to succeeding.

  We finally reach the castle, the doors spiralling before us, appearing as two huge planks of wood blocking our entrance. The windows were too high up to enter, so we would have to find a way through the doors without anyone hearing.

  Underneath my feet is solid cobblestone, weathered down to smooth tiles due to overuse. The courtyard stretched out before us, yet another sword stand sitting proudly in a corner of the castle.

  "What now?" One of my teammates whispers. I hold up a hand to shush them.

  I open my mouth, the gears in my head clicking noisily as I try to figure out how to respond. "I don't know," I reply "Maybe there's anoth-"

  "Ah. Aurora. What a pleasant surprise." A masculine voice slices across the terrain like a blade made of diamond. A shiver instinctively runs down my neck, along my spine, the cold fizzing into my blood vessels.

  Before me, the hands on the clock imprinted in my eyes slow, each hand taking a thousand years to finally click in place. I turn on my heal, so silently and cautiously it feels as though I am chest height in mud. When I finally face him, I can't help but gulp: I knew his face. I knew his permafrost blue eyes and platinum faded tresses. I knew the softness, yet boldness of his face. I knew his elegant manoeuvres; the way he moved across the courtyard as if he was floating.

  He had been the mysterious rogue I had seen when the king had been slaughtered. He was Hunter, the leader of the rogues.

  A group of rogues triple the size of our own surrounds us, securing us in place.

  "You seem surprised to see me," Hunter states as his hand flutters over to the rogue next to him, who stands with his arms outstretched with a long weapon in his grasp. Hunter gracefully takes the blade, studying the silver - almost white - metal of the sword before flicking his wrists and swirling it around him confidently. He then smirks at me, and my face covered in a mixed expression of hatred and awe. "Oh come on Aurora, did you really think it would be that easy? You knew you were walking into a trap," the man steps forwards, but I regain my ground, refusing to show any sign of fear. The man only appears to be a year older than myself, but his presence is ancient and daunting. "So why did you still come, I wonder?"

  My mouth hangs open in shock, and it takes me a few minutes to answer. "I-" I stutter, my fear finding its way to my soul. I had never been this scared in my life. Never. "How do you know my name?"

  Hunter snorts, his nose thinning at the action. "You're not the only side to have insiders," he answers, nodding to one of the werewolves beside me. My heart skips a beat as Jason steps out of our group and wanders over to stand beside Hunter. He curves around to face us, his features blank with a faint glimmer or pain and betrayal. The face of a traitor.

  "How could you?" I spit at him, trying to calm down my temper, but it's already too late. I lash out at him, but Josh holds me back with a sympathetic smile. "How could you, you arsehole? You know what they do: they kill and they don't even care. They-" I begin, but no words come out. I thrash my shoulders out of Josh's hold and push my hair out of my face. I grit my teeth, and say, "I'm going to kill you." Gone is the sympathetic Aurora who had hated the killer inside her. Gone is the Aurora who didn't want to be a murderer. Jason was a rogue, and like the rest of them, he was ruthless. He deserved to die.

  Hunter twitches his lips. "It's ok. I've got you covered," he responds, and without a moment's thought he buried the sword deep within Jason's chest. The man dies in an instant, his eyes glassing over as they reflect the stars above him. Noticing my shocked face, Hunter smirks. "He was no use to either of us."

  "What do you want, arsehole?" I yell.

  The boy with the platinum hair shakes his head, tutting in the process. "My dear Aurora, I think we both know what I'm after."

  Bile rises up my throat, and I am forced to gulp once again to keep the searing liquid down. "If you want me, you can have me. Just leave them alone."

  Hunter shoots me a sympathetic look. "If only I could," he takes yet another step forward, his tar black walking boots blending into the shades of the night. His hand lightly feels for something in his belt with a feather touch, and before I can bolt and stop him, a knife is plunged into the heart of a werewolf behind me. "I mean, what would be the fun in that?"

  I throw Josh behind me, a growl ripping through my vocal chords like the howl of an ancient creature that only existed in twisted fairytales. My legs burn with adrenaline, my whole body engulfed by a raging inferno which I had grown accustomed to even since the beginning of the Alpha Trials.

  I flick my hands, my claws appearing in an instant, and charge towards Hunter as quickly as I can. All the while the man smiles at me as if I was about to hug him, rather than thrust my sword deep within his gut.

  I place both hands on the handle to secure my hold, bringing down the weapon with all the power I can produce from my muscles.

  Hunter casually smiles at me as I near him, his arms drifting upwards for some reason I cannot figure out until it is too late.

  When I am just meters away, the man's figure blurs and in a second I feel the sword being wrenched from my grip. The action is so sudden that I almost stumble over into the ring of rogues that surround our group.

  Now equipped with my sword, Hunter moves at a speed unknown to werewolves towards Josh. My pulse throbs nervously in my neck, and I painfully swallow the lump stuck in my throat.

  No. Not Josh. Please, I speak silent words which wrack my skull. Whatever happened, I didn't want my best friend to get hurt.

  In less than a second, Hunter triumphantly stands behind Josh with my sword placed against his neck. Not only was I worried about Josh's safety and life, but I was also curious about how a werewolf could move that fast - it was impossible.

  Through my anger and rage, I blurt out the first thoughts that enters my hea
d. "If you dare hurt him, I'll kill you," I hiss, my voice carried over the courtyard by the abrupt gusts of wind.

  "Aurora, we both know that I could kill you in two seconds. You can't beat me. You can't win this war," Hunter's face becomes stern, the eerie blood-red of the luminescence mapping the contours of his sharp and precise face in a deep scarlet reflection.

  I ruffle my shirt, finding my belt hidden beneath the thick material. My hand skims the trusted handle of one of my few knives, and I scramble to hold it threateningly in front of me.

  "You're wrong," I state, a chill running through my bones and tingling all the way down to my feet. Why? Because I knew he was right. The chances of us winning this war were low. Hunter had waited for the prime moment to attack, and he had chosen it well. "We will win this war. Don't underestimate me."

  My comments only make Hunter laugh even more menacingly, the strange vibrations contracting from his vocal chords burning a hole in my soul.

  He presses the sword harder against Josh's windpipe making my heart jump into my throat. "Just one slash," Hunter whispers, his chastising having ceased. "Just one slash and he'd be dead," the man continues. The edge of the blade nicks the corner of Josh's neck.

  I can't bare it any longer. Josh couldn't die because of me. He couldn't die when I had the ability to save him.

  "Stop it!" I scream at the top of my lungs. If there were any birds nearby, I'm pretty sure that they would've flown from the trees in a whirlwind of flight and feathers.

  The knife cuts further. The red smile grows wider.

  My head explodes with emotional pain, and the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them. "Please, just leave him alone!" I screech, my voice box hurting from my raised voice. My knife clatters to the ground, and I raise my hands to surrender. "I- I'll do anything you want, just please don't hurt him."

  Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, stinging in my hazy view. Hunter continues to draw the sword across Josh's neck like the devil himself. Hunter tilts to head to the side. "That's sweet," he mutters, and brings the blade downwards, drawing more blood from my best friend's neck.

  I exhale profusely when I realise that the sword hadn't done much damage: Josh's wound would heal within minutes, and only the side of his neck had been sliced.

  Hunted steps back, smiling as if he was proud of his work. I wanted to tear his face off and slit his own throat, just to let him know what raw fear felt like, but I couldn't. If I tried to act against him now, he would kill Josh, and the emptiness and guilt would crush me like a boulder.

  Josh places a hand on his neck, the fingers efficiently becoming slick with his own blood. Hunter takes a step away from his prey, and I dash forward to confirm that he's ok.

  I push away his hand to get a peek at the cut, and notice that it is much shallower than I had anticipated. I feel Josh's eyes burn into my skin as he reaches up and takes my hand in his own. The blood is wet against my skin, but I don't care.

  "I'm alright," Josh confirms, swallowing a knot stuck in his oesophagus. He bows his head slowly, his lustrous eyes glaring into my own with an intensity which can only be matches with the emotion of love. His eyes tell a different story from his bold voice - he looked scared. "I'm alright," he repeats, as if I hadn't heard him the first time.

  A flicker of platinum hair catches my attention. I divert my gaze to Hunter, who still wore a triumphant smirk on his face. His hands flutter like a silent storm by his sides, ready to unleash his deadly brawl of thunder and lightning when necessary. The left side of his lip twitched up, the skin above it pinching into wrinkles. They looked peculiar against his white, flawless skin.

  Hunter clicked his long fingers together to draw our attention. "Follow me," he orders, and I have no choice but to obey.

  13 | Cold

  ❝It's unbelievable how deeply you can affect someone and never know.❞

  Slick, translucent water drops drip down the walls of the grotty cave as I push my back up against the wet surface. The room – which could be described better as a cave or prison cell – was dark, with a pair of torches lighting up each side of the cramped space. The walls were all rugged with unique rock patterns digging into my back, the ache reminding me of all the pain and suffering I had done to others.

  Everywhere I have gone, I have caused misery and agony. Men have died at my hands because I didn't want to face the reality of my own demise. A village burned to the ground in a blazing halo because I was powerless to stop the rogues. It's as if God purposefully keeps me alive, just to have the guilt of death shrouding me like a demon trapped within the clutches of my dark soul. I don't deserve to still be alive - people like Noah, they did.

  The light in the cave - or what would more easily be described as a prison cell - was limited, the glare of the flame torches turning my vision a dilapidated ruby. My body shivers, reminding me of the time when Noah was slain before my eyes.

  I inhale, taking a deep breath of the limited oxygen. The frigid air pushes its way into my lungs, stinging as I glance around the cell. The other members of my group each sit at random intervals within the grey boundaries. Two of the men in the back corner were mumbling, and one of the younger members of the team was huddled in a tight slit in the rock, his arms awkwardly bent over his legs as he spoke under his own whispering breath.

  "I'm sorry." A voice blurts into the echoing chasm, causing everyone to stop their actions and swivel intently to gaze at the boy beside me. I myself shift my head so that I can see the cocoa of his eyes. Today his orbs were stormy, tormented. There was a flare of rage blocking the resilient personality of the man I thought I knew so well, depriving me from knowing what he was actually feeling. Normally I could delve deep into his irises and tell whether he was calm or enraged, but today was different, as if he had purposely shut himself off from me and the rest of the world.

  I blink rapidly. "Sorry about what?"

  Josh intakes a huge swell of air, before exhaling with a rusty wheeze. "About kissing you," for a moment his shields are down, and all I see is a vulnerable boy sitting before me. "I- I shouldn't have put you through that, and I'm sorry."

  My eyebrows involuntarily crease. "Josh, there's no need to apologise," I mutter under my breath, anxiously watching as the other men in the same cell pretend to be otherwise occupied rather than listening to our conversation. "I'm the one who should apologise. I just," I pause, unsure of what to say. It wasn't my fault that Josh had kissed me, but I had pushed him away because I had been unable to decipher what the mixture of emotions were. "I don't know what love is anymore."

  Josh hunches his shoulders. "Yes you do, Aura, you just need to figure it out. Which is why I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you."

  "It's ok," I squeeze his arm for reassurance, and watch as his face winces: I must be stronger than I think. He looked vulnerable with crinkles lining the edges of his eye sockets, and I quickly shudder away as I realise I was causing him pain.

  "It's..." not your fault? Even if I wanted to believe it, it had been his fault. He had been the one to kiss me, not the other way around. "Can we not talk about it? You're my best friend, Josh, and I don't want anyone to ruin that."

  Josh's mouth edges upwards, and for a moment I am relaxed, thinking that we will be ok. But we're not going to be ok. We haven't eaten for the best part of ten hours, and Hunter would slowly kill us off one by one when he realised that Damien didn't care about us. And, to be honest, I would rather die than have a whole city collapse to the ground.

  A ferocious growling sound tears into the cell, my eyes landing on Josh as he stares in alarm at his stomach. I open my mouth to speak, but the voice produced is not my own.

  "Hungry?" Hunter asks in a menacing tone through the bars of the cell. His face appeared even paler in the abundance of scarlet light, the hues staining his ice blue irises crimson: the colour of blood.

  No one moves, as if even the batter of an eyelash will cause the abrupt demise of everyone enclosed in the cramped space. Ever
yone except me. My legs shake as I stand up, tired from underuse. I use the damp rock to help myself up, stretching my legs and Hunter studies me intently, his eyes burning with intent evil.

  "Yes," I hiss as a response. "That's generally what happens when you don't eat for hours."

  The male werewolf makes a tutting noise, the sound echoing effortlessly through the chasm. "You should really be more polite to your hosts," he states.

  My eyes turn to slits. "Hosts? You killed one of us! Do you really expect us to be polite to you arseholes?"