2. The Yellow Eyed Hunter

I stirred awake. Despite the cold chill in the air, my body felt warm—somehow blanketed against the cold. Slowly, I sat up, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes and licking my cracked lips in a futile attempt to restore some moisture. As I shifted, I felt something beneath me—my phone. I pulled it out and pressed the power button.

Dead.

Of course.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn't even supposed to be out here. Above, the stars twinkled in the deep black sky. A gentle breeze rustled the loose leaves in the trees. With a sigh, I guessed it was around one or two in the morning. I hated not knowing for sure. Shaking off the last remnants of sleep, I turned to gather my things, shoving them into my bag before tucking the blanket back under the rocky overhang I'd made to protect my supplies. Satisfied, I switched on my flashlight and started the trek back to the house. Each step crunched softly against the damp earth. The cold seeped into my bones. It was colder here than back home—relentless rain, frigid wind, and damp everything. Snow I could deal with. This? This was miserable. I hugged myself tighter, shivering as I walked, my thoughts drifting aimlessly— Until I heard it. A rustling behind me. I froze. My breath hitched. Slowly, I turned and scanned the darkness. My breathing quickened, turning shallow as a jolt of fear struck my chest. Probably just an animal, I told myself. But the noise persisted. It grew louder. Closer. My heart pounded harder. My feet moved faster. And the faster I walked, the more urgent the sound became—until I was outright sprinting through the trees. Branches lashed at my arms and legs, tearing at my clothes and leaving stinging cuts in their wake. My boots pounded against the forest floor, but another set of footsteps echoed mine—chasing me. My lungs burned with each gasp, the freezing air like needles stabbing my chest.

Then—disaster.

My flashlight caught on a low-hanging branch and flew from my grip, tumbling into the darkness. I was plunged into blackness. My foot caught on a rock.

I went down hard.

My body slammed into the wet ground, pain shooting through me as I skidded across the mud. Gasping, I scrambled onto my back, adrenaline dulling the ache—just in time to see them.

Eyes. Yellow. Fierce.

Locked onto mine.

A massive gray wolf stepped from the shadows, fangs bared, saliva dripping from its jaws. It let out a low, menacing growl, its hackles rising as it stalked forward. Tears burned in my eyes. My chest tightened. Is this it? Is this how I die? The wolf circled me slowly, its eyes never leaving mine. I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. I was frozen—paralyzed by pure, animal terror.

It lunged—

But not for my neck? Just before its teeth could meet my flesh, a blur of motion crashed into it with terrifying force. The white and tan speckled wolf. Larger than I remembered. Larger than any normal wolf should've been. It collided with the gray one mid-air, jaws locking onto its throat with a vicious snarl. The gray wolf yelped, flung aside like it weighed nothing. It rolled, scrambled up, and snapped back at the speckled wolf. Their snarls filled the night as they circled each other like rivals, like ancient enemies locked in a battle not just for prey—but for dominance.

For me.

The gray wolf lunged again, teeth bared. The speckled wolf met it halfway, rearing up and slamming its body into the attacker with bone-cracking impact. They rolled across the forest floor, fur and blood flying, fangs slashing. Every growl vibrated in my chest. I have to move. Now. My paralysis shattered. Heart racing, I launched to my feet and ran. My legs screamed in protest, but I forced them to move—fueled by raw, desperate survival. Behind me, the sounds of the fight still raged. I didn't dare look back. I burst through the tree line, stumbling onto the back porch. I yanked off my boots, sidestepping the creaky floorboards, and slipped inside, slamming the door shut behind me. Only then did I let myself breathe. My hands trembled as I pressed them over my mouth, muffling the sob that tore from my throat. I couldn't tell anyone. No one would believe me. I numbly crept up the stairs. The full weight of what had happened still hadn't settled in—not yet. But when I reached my room and saw myself in the mirror, reality came crashing down. Dirt and blood streaked my skin. My clothes were torn, barely holding together. My hair was a tangled mess of leaves and twigs. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me. Stripping down, I stepped into the shower—didn't even wait for the water to warm. The icy spray shocked my skin, but I welcomed it. Anything to wash away the grime. The fear. The memory of those glowing yellow eyes. I scrubbed hard, but no amount of soap could erase the feel of the cold ground, the sound of growls, the weight of that stare. Even when the water turned scorching hot and burned against the cuts on my arms and legs, all I could see were those eyes.

Watching.

Hunting.

I stayed under the spray until my skin felt raw and exhaustion tugged at my limbs. After drying off, I threw on an oversized shirt and plugged in my phone. 3:26 a.m. Sleep should've been my next priority—but I knew better. The moment I closed my eyes, the wolves would be there. The forest. The chase. The fight. Those yellow eyes, waiting in the dark. Instead, I grabbed a book and curled up in the bay window, pulling a blanket tight around me. I tried to read, flipping page after page, but my mind refused to focus. Every time I blinked, I saw them.

Glowing.

Patient.

Eventually, hours later, I found myself sinking into the story. My eyes drooped as I finished a chapter. I blinked slowly and glanced out the window, just to check.

And then—I saw them.

A pair of yellow eyes staring back at me from the darkness.