by Heather Beck
Willing herself forward, Anastasia focused on keeping up with Frost’s ever-increasing pace. However, her attention was soon drawn to the faint noise of trees rustling from somewhere behind them. Both Anastasia and Frost stopped dead in their tracks and spun around, but no one was there. After several moments of silence and no visible activity, he nudged her onward.
They’d only taken a few dozen steps when the noise came again, this time from the opposite direction. As the sound grew louder, Anastasia and Frost didn’t stop to investigate. Instead, they ran as fast as they could, while trying to avoid slipping on the sleek, compact snow.
Still hand-in-hand, Anastasia knew that she and Frost were fleeing from more than one unidentified person or animal – she could now hear three of them, and they were getting closer. Just as unnerving was Anastasia’s certainty that they were intentionally being chased from their route to Hartfield. Whoever was after her and Frost wanted them deep in the woods, where they were defenseless and their screams couldn’t be heard.
Frost must have also sensed that they were being driven in a specific direction because without any warning, he pulled Anastasia sideways, forcing her to run in between the trees in a disorienting zigzag pattern. As she struggled past the long branches, she realized that they were actually moving slower. These trees were too close together, leaving little room to move and making it easier for their pursuers to pinpoint their location due to the shaking branches.
Thinking fast, Anastasia resisted Frost’s lead and instead forced him underneath a large tree. Almost bent double, she scurried toward the base of the tree and climbed up, wincing as pine needles scraped against her cheeks. It was a bold strategy, but when she looked behind herself, she was relieved to find Frost following her. After ascending several feet, Anastasia and Frost stopped and waited, their heavy breathing completely in sync.
It only took a couple of minutes for the trees to start rustling again, and although Anastasia was undeniably scared, she was also prepared to fight. They had the higher ground, and they could use that to their advantage. With unwavering determination, Anastasia peered through the branches, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever was there. She couldn’t see anything other than trees, but that hardly mattered when she heard the fast approaching footsteps. Anastasia now knew that their predators were humans.
Hunters, Frost mouthed to Anastasia, before placing his index finger over his lips to indicate that she should remain quiet.
Anastasia didn’t speak or move as the hunter circled the area. Although it sounded like he was the only one there, she was certain that the others wouldn’t be too far away. As for right now, this hunter was so close that she could smell his cheap cologne. She knew that there was no reason for him to be lingering around unless he’d found them. Anxiously, Anastasia waited for him to strike, but instead, he began to walk away until she could no longer hear his footsteps.
The minutes passed slowly as Anastasia and Frost stayed in the tree, afraid to leave too soon in case the hunter or any of his friends returned. Sitting there gave Anastasia time to think about the severity of their situation, and it made her heart ache with sadness. Although she never felt sorry for herself when she was with Frost, it was difficult to remain optimistic with the odds never in their favor.
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Frost finally spoke in a low tone. “There’s not a lot of daylight left, and we aren’t prepared to spend a night out here.”
Casting Frost a nervous, almost reluctant look, Anastasia slowly rose from the tree branch. Her awkward sitting position had left her legs feeling stiff, and as she proceeded downwards, she paid particular attention to where she placed her feet. Images of falling to her death plagued Anastasia’s mind, causing her to lose confidence and, ironically, almost slip. Fortunately, Frost’s strong hand was there to steady her before she even knew what was happening.
“Thanks,” Anastasia said, feeling instantly comforted by his touch.
“I’ll always be there to catch you,” Frost replied, looking more worried than ever, “but don’t put that to the test too much, okay?”
“I promise,” Anastasia muttered distractedly, while concentrating on getting out of the tree.
Once they’d safely reached the ground, Frost quickly started in a northwesterly direction. “We need to find an alternative route to Hartfield,” he explained. “It’s too dangerous to retrace our steps.”
Anastasia certainly hoped that Frost was right because walking amongst the cluster of trees was tedious at best, leaving her to feel even more tired, cold and hungry. In such an unforgiving atmosphere, it didn’t take long for her to start fearing that they’d be trapped in there forever. Then, just when she thought that she couldn’t take it any longer, the woods became lighter. Knowing that she and Frost were nearing a clearing, Anastasia hurried forward with a renewed sense of hope.
“Wait,” Frost said urgently, grabbing Anastasia’s arm before she could go any further. Without saying another word, he led her from behind the trees and to the edge of a sun-filled gully.
Looking at the ten foot drop, Anastasia gulped. She was about to thank Frost for the second time that day when she noticed something unusual in the middle of the gully. Although it was difficult to decipher, it sort of resembled a person lying in the snow.
“Frost...” Anastasia hardly choked out.
From his horrified expression, it was clear that Frost had also spotted the person. “I think I see a path,” he said, beginning to hurry around the gully. “Stay away from the edge,” he added needlessly, since Anastasia was already proceeding with great caution.
Coming to a stop, Anastasia knew that they’d arrived at the area where Frost planned on climbing down. Assessing the danger, she peered over his shoulder to find a long, slightly slanted trail which led into the gully. It would be a tough but not impossible descend.
“This might be ugly,” Frost warned Anastasia. “You don’t have to come.”
“Yes, I do,” she answered abruptly. “Now hurry up!”
Concentrating on every step, Anastasia followed Frost, making sure to leave ample space between them. As she felt herself slipping, she quickly dug her heels into the snow, which helped to regain her balance. Letting out a sigh of relief, Anastasia continued on the slope until she finally reached the bottom of the gully just moments after Frost. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to celebrate her small achievement. Even though it was hard to believe, someone was in a worse state than her and Frost, and he needed their help immediately.
As Anastasia hurried toward the person, she instantly knew that something wasn’t right. He was lying too flat on the ground, and she couldn’t see any boots completing his winter ensemble. When she took a closer look, she gasped with a mixture of surprise and fright. A coat and a pair of snow pants had been strategically placed on the snow to give the impression of a fallen person; however, no one was there.
“It’s a trap,” Frost said in a stone-cold tone. “We need to get out of here.”
Before Anastasia and Frost had a chance to leave, four snowmobiles appeared at the top of the gully, their presence announced by the sound of revved-up engines and the angry cries of the hunters who rode them. One after another, they formed a perfect line, quickly making their way toward the gully’s only accessible path. Then, like a well-executed military maneuver, they sped downwards at a dangerously fast pace.
Anastasia spun around, prepared to scale the icy walls with nothing but her bare hands, if that meant they would escape. Yet, as she tried to flee, she found herself being held back. In shock, she looked at Frost. He was grasping her arm firmly and refusing to let go, even when she struggled to free herself.
“It’s too late,” Frost said in an eerily somber tone.
“Only if we don’t try,” Anastasia argued, flabbergasted by his behavior and willingness to just give up.
“They won’t hurt you,” Frost promised. “I’m the one they want.”
“Please, Frost,�
�� Anastasia begged, while glancing at the rapidly advancing hunters. “It’s now or never.”
“You don’t understand,” Frost said, releasing Anastasia’s arm so he could place both hands on her shoulders and look seriously into her eyes. “If I run now, I’ll always be running. The only way we can have a somewhat normal life is if I confront them and make them see reason – I’m not a threat to anyone.”
Anastasia wanted to tell Frost how incredibly stupid his plan was and that it would likely cost them their lives, but there was no point in voicing her concerns now; the hunters had already formed a circle around them and were closing in at a dizzyingly fast pace. The land vibrated under the weight and speed of the snowmobiles, and the smell of fuel was so strong that Anastasia covered her nose. Worst of all, the hunters were getting way too close, causing her to fear that they would soon be brutally crushed by the heavy machines.
Abruptly, the snowmobiles came to a stop when one of the hunters, who was presumably the leader, signaled for them to do so. After dismounting, they removed their helmets, revealing themselves as Leo, Mike, Pete, and Mr. Fairbanks. Quickly, they retrieved their rifles, which were strapped over their shoulders, and pointed them at Anastasia and Frost. In vain, Frost attempted to place himself between Anastasia and the rifles, but regardless of which way he turned, they were both in danger.
“I’m not who you think I am,” Frost said, his voice loud and clear. “I’ve given you no reason to fear me, and this is all very unnecessary.”
“You tried to kill my daughter!” Mr. Fairbanks yelled, practically shaking with anger as he proceeded closer. “I want a confession, boy.”
“He saved us!” Anastasia cried, moving in front of Frost before Mr. Fairbanks could come any nearer. “What I told you in the hospital was true – it was a cougar that attacked Chloe.”
“I can’t imagine what crazy lies he’s been telling you, but I’ve seen the monster with my own eyes,” Mr. Fairbanks said to Anastasia. “Come with me, while you still can.”
Despite Frost’s attempt to pull Anastasia behind him once again, she refused to back down. She was determined to convince Mr. Fairbanks to lower his rifle. If he did, maybe the other hunters would, too. Taking a leap of faith, she stepped forward.
“That’s a good girl,” Mr. Fairbanks encouraged her. “Your grandfather will be so relieved to know that you’re safe.”
Trying hard to ignore his patronizing tone, Anastasia took another step. “Mr. Fairbanks, you’ve known me since I was a child. Please, trust my judgement because I would never be with a murderer.”
“It’s going to be alright,” Mr. Fairbanks said in a tone that was too calm for the current situation. “When this is over, you’ll be able to get back to your normal life. That’s what you want, isn’t it, Anastasia?”
Realizing that Mr. Fairbanks hadn’t listened to a word she’d said, she stopped and stared at him. His rifle remained in the same shooting position because he obviously had a plan of his own. He, or one of the other hunters, would kill Frost as soon as she was out of harm’s way. The thought that she was responsible for Frost’s life made her feel sick.
Before Anastasia had the chance to decide what she would do next, Mr. Fairbanks reached out and grabbed her. With a firm grip, he forced her forward and then wrapped one arm securely around the bottom of her neck. Although Mr. Fairbanks wasn’t hurting her, Anastasia knew that she’d made a fatal error. The hunters were now completely in control.
“It might be difficult for you to understand, but I am saving you,” Mr. Fairbanks whispered to Anastasia, his hot breath tickling her ear in a very uncomfortable manner. “There’s something you have to do for me, though. I can’t shoot a boy – turn him into the werewolf.”
Feeling her blood go cold, Anastasia whispered, “Never.”
“Then we’re all damned,” Mr. Fairbanks said sadly, while steadying his rifle and preparing to fire at Frost.
“Frost, run!” Anastasia shouted in terror as she struggled in Mr. Fairbanks’ grasp.
Anastasia’s cry was overpowered by a loud, ferocious growl, followed by the presence of Symon. The only way he could’ve gotten there was by jumping from the top of the gully, and as he bounded toward them, it was clear that he was ready to fight. Unfortunately, so were the hunters.
Taking aim, Mike and Leo fired several shots at Symon, but his movements were so fast and erratic that the bullets kept flying by him harmlessly. Bravely standing their ground, both hunters continued their attempt for a clear shot, even up to the moment when Symon pounced on Leo, causing him to fall. Almost simultaneously, Frost sprang into action, taking Mike by surprise and knocking him over as well.
Having been overly preoccupied with watching Symon dodge bullets and unsuccessfully trying to free herself from Mr. Fairbanks, Anastasia hadn’t seen Frost transform. However, she knew that he’d done it quickly because accepting his inner wolf was the only way any of them were going to survive. Frost had proven this perfectly since they’d now gained some control of the fight; Symon had Leo pinned under his paws, and although Mike was slowly recovering from the blow, his rifle had skidded across the snow.
As Frost circled Mike to prevent him from getting up, it was apparent that he had reservations about what he should do next. Anastasia knew that he didn’t want to harm Mike, but did he really have a choice? As for Symon, his intentions were crystal clear as he let out an unearthly howl and then sunk his fangs into Leo’s shoulder.
Leo’s shrill cry echoed around the gully, causing Anastasia to shudder with repulsion. However, it was what happened next that really freaked her out. After Symon’s bite, Leo’s body immediately stiffened, leaving him looking like the world’s most realistic statue. As he lay there motionlessly, it was impossible to tell if he was alive or dead.
“Shoot him, Pete!” Mr. Fairbanks yelled, unable to do the task himself as he fought to maintain his hold on Anastasia.
Evidently out of his element and suffering from shock, Pete hadn’t moved a muscle since Symon’s arrival. However, Mr. Fairbanks harsh command was enough to break his trance, and after quickly regaining his composure, Pete shot at Symon. The bullet must’ve been close – very close. Nonetheless, Anastasia was certain that it hadn’t hit Symon because he was now running furiously toward Pete.
With a powerful lunge, Symon tackled Pete to the ground and then grunted in frustration as he slid sideways on the icy snow. When he’d risen on his paws once again, he leapt for the fallen hunter. In retaliation, Pete grabbed for his rifle, which lay beside him after being knocked out of his hands. Clutching the rifle by the barrel, he swung it against Symon’s ribs, creating a sickening thud.
Up until this moment, Frost had lingered over an almost recovered Mike, hesitant and looking as if he couldn’t bring himself to bite a human. However, when he’d heard the hit which Symon had sustained, he gave Mike a threatening glare and then rushed to his father’s aid.
Growling in a deeper tone, Symon struck Pete across the chest, ripping his coat and quite possibly his flesh. Down but definitely not out, Pete grunted loudly and began turning the rifle around, his fingers inching closer to the trigger. With an effortless swipe, Symon sent the rifle flying onto the snow, where he crushed it into several pieces merely by stepping upon it. Pete’s eyes went wide with terror, right before Symon bit him.
Anastasia winced as she watched the violence unfold. She knew that Frost was also affected by the brutality because after arriving at his father’s side, he stood over Pete and lowered his head sadly. Suddenly, Anastasia’s attention was drawn away from the two werewolves and onto Mike, who was slowly creeping toward his rifle.
“Watch out!” Anastasia cried with urgency, finally getting Frost and Symon to notice Mike’s actions.
Immediately, Mike stood up and ran, stopping only when he’d retrieved his rifle. Reaching him before he could shoot, Frost slammed into Mike, causing him to skid across the snow. Yet, even then, the resolute hunter kept his rifle securely in tow
. Getting into the fight, Symon went for an attack but had to retreat when Mike fired at him. Obviously not pleased, Symon struck Mike’s face and then leapt on top of him.
“You need to stay still and shut up,” Mr. Fairbanks warned Anastasia, losing his composure and perhaps his sanity, too, as he gazed upon the increasingly bleak scene.
“Just let us go in peace and this will all stop,” Anastasia promised in a shaky tone.
“I said shut up!” Mr. Fairbanks yelled, tightening his arm around her neck.
Choking, Anastasia tried to call to Frost for help, but she could only manage a meek cry. Luckily, that was good enough. Frost’s ears twitched and after he’d looked up, an expression of horror appeared on his face. Then, faster than Anastasia had ever seen, he ran to her. Beginning to circle them so Mr. Fairbanks couldn’t get a decent shot, Frost snarled viciously. However, this only caused Mr. Fairbanks to fire erratically at him, while strengthening his grip on Anastasia’s neck.
As a succession of bullets flew around her, penetrating into the snow, and she fought to take even the smallest of breaths, Anastasia felt panic seize her body. Although she was also suffering from physical and mental exhaustion, she wouldn’t give up. Apparently, neither would Frost because with one fierce, anger-fueled attack, he knocked Mr. Fairbanks and Anastasia down.
Now lying on the cold, hard snow, Anastasia’s body ached from the impact, but at least she was free from Mr. Fairbanks and able to take a much needed deep breath of air. Almost instantly, Frost was at her side, licking her face with his warm, wet tongue to make sure that she was alright. The dizziness that Anastasia had been experiencing soon passed, as did the pounding in her head; yet, she was filled with a new fear when she saw the frightening scene that was just ten feet away.
There, hunched over a bitten Mike, was Symon. At first, Anastasia had wondered why he was acting so strange, and then she’d seen it – blood, running from his left paw and marring the snow. Symon no longer looked like his usual strong self, and as he panted heavily, it was evident that he was in a great deal of pain. Although Mike’s rifle now lay harmlessly in his stiff hand, the damage had already been done, and if he’d used a bullet made of silver, then Symon’s condition would only worsen.