The wolf rose to its full, massive glory – paws planted firmly, and hackles raised. The dawning morning light gleamed off its pelt, painting the gray in silver. Brynn knew her people would not be so lucky as the last time they faced this creature.
This time, they had neither the element of surprise nor some strange brand of distraction to work to their advantage. There was no secret trap waiting to emerge from the pine needles. This time, the weapons they scrambled for seemed so small and weak when posed against the mighty beast. This time, there would surely be carnage, and Brynn knew that if blood was spilled, much of it would be theirs.
‘What have I done,’ she thought as a pained gasp rose from her throat. ‘I’ve killed them, I’ve killed them, I’ve killed them.’