MY SCARS REMIND ME THAT THE DAMAGE LIFE HAS INFLICTED ON ME HAS, IN MANY PLACES, LEFT ME STRONGER AND MORE RESILIENT -Steve Goodier

"What do you mean no? Luke...Luke listen to me-" Cat enunciated harshly. She tried her best not to make any sudden movements and gestured for Luke to follow her.

I have to protect Luke?

Was there no rest for the wicked?

Why the hell did I think a morning walk couldn't turn into a fucking hunt? Or into a battle for survival? Oh, why did I leave without my hunting knife and trusty gun?

"You listen to me, Mom. Trust me. It's a wolf and they travel in packs. The rest of them will soon follow. I'll head them off as I'm faster and shorter than you. You go get-" Luke argued back.

"You go get Alex, I'm the mother, son. What I say goes," Cat eyed her son sternly while keeping her eyes locked with the matted orange coat.

"Run, now," She shouted as the fox stepped forward announcing his intent.