THE ROGUE WOLF

by Klaire London

  He was one of the young members. His chubbier cheeks and less polished physique made him appear only fifteen, but I knew that he was actually sixteen. He didn't stand a chance against the might of a rogue. Before the proper battle had even begun, I knew how it was going to end.

  "Get out of here! Go!" The boy yells as the rogue flips him over, and I watch in horror as a sword is impaled into his stomach. He dies within seconds, a feeble fist flopping from the sword bayonetted into his stomach onto the gritty mud.

  A strange noise echoes from my vocal chords. I can't tell what it's meant to signal at first, but the abnormal puff of air at the end makes it sound as though I'm distressed. But, in truth, I'm not only distressed: I'm horrified.

  My eyes uncontrollably begin to water. He was too young. Maybe he was only a year younger than me, but he did not deserve a death like that. No one did.

  Alexandra appears from the tent behind us, and in a second flings a knife at the murderer before us. The blade spears the rogue's skull, and his distorted body falls onto the teenager's.

  "What are you still doing here?" Alex demands as she speed walks towards our group, grabs me by the shoulders, and spins me around so that I'm facing a clear path out of the camp and back towards the white flossed forest. "You need to go! I don't want them destroyed our camp because you're here."

  I feel bitterness build in my chest like fear intensifying in a nightmare. It wasn't my fault that I had come here to save her pack, yet it was ironic that now I was the sole reason that her campus was being set alight in a furious blaze.

  But instead, I force the nightmare away and wake myself up from the gruesome phantasm. "We're not leaving without you! We came to protect and save your pack, not leave it to get slaughtered."

  Alex grabs me by my shirt, pulling my face towards her. We're so close that I can feel her rhythmic breathing pat my face. "We will not die. We are stronger than you think."

  "I don't doubt that, but they will die. Do you really want your pack to be burnt to death?" Alex looks at me with startled eyes, and in a millisecond flicks them back to the battlefield. If she intended for me not to notice, then she had failed. I of all people knew that she wanted to remain strong, and appear it too, but there were some situations when you ran out of solid bricks to build up your walls. Mine had been smashed down years ago, and I hadn't bothered to pick the smashed pieces up since, but it was clear that Alex was not someone who would ever give up on stacking the fragments.

  One of the warriors by my side suddenly jerks forward with his sword, driving through the chest of a deceased rogue. The world slows before my eyes, the rapid tick tock of the clock slowing to a tick per century. I watch as the second hand jumps, the action taking seconds to complete. Finally, I am allowed to think, but my head is such a mess I can't differ between cold and boiling hot.

  "We don't have time for this," the words tumble from my mouth like a volcanic eruption. My words appear to burn Alex and snap her back to reality. Her eyes harden and she clicks her jaw. "Look around us. We're losing. I hate to be a pessimist, but I'm telling the truth."

  Alex stares at me with her iron orbs, her eye colour reflecting my own. Then, her brain clicks, and the gears begin to whirr profusely. "Fine," she whispers, as if she is choking on her own words. She turns to the warrior from her pack, "round up everyone on the East side. Me, Aurora, and half of the Arla warriors will round up the West."

  "This way," Alex nods her head into the thick, black and uninviting smoke. She garbs my arm and hauls me along through the well-trodden pathways between the dwellings.

  A woman stumbles in front of us, coughing severely into her hand. I grab her arm, propping her up with my shoulder and aiding her to the other side of the dense, suffocating smog.

  "Harper," the woman croaks, her throat dry from the smoke. I feel my eyes begin to tear up as the substance infiltrates my eyes, causing a thousand pins to be forced into my irises.

  "Shh," I say, but the woman rips and tears at my hold like a rabid animal. She didn't look old – no older than forty – but her face gave an ancient outlook with multiple lines creasing her brow from stress. She was most likely a mother, and Harper, her child.

  The woman stares up at me with huge, dark orbs. "Please, my mate. My child. They were in our tent."

  Alex comes to my aid, retrieving the woman from me. "Iris, stay calm. I'm sure Harper's ok. She's a clever girl: she knows what to do in situations like these. You have to come with us."

  "No, no!" The woman – Iris – thrashes in Alex's arms, but the alpha keeps a firm hold on her pack member. "Harper!"

  Alex ignores the rant of the dark skinned woman, and turns to face me. Her hand points so quickly behind me, I don't notice her fingers moving until they're right in front of my face. "Aurora, behind you."

  My body stills with some strange and obnoxious fear, I dare to turn around. The rogues are at least ten meters away, but I know that it's too late to run. They have seen me, and my feet are glued to the spot and won't obey my demand to move. It's as if I'm paralyzed, my limbs unable to move in fear and overuse.

  A strange wave of confidence rushes over me like a tsunami, flushing all of my doubt away. I had won the Alpha Trials. I had beaten Damien. Hopefully my anger could defeat these strong opponents as well.

  The first one runs at me blindly, his bald head aimed towards my abdominals in an attempt to head-butt me. I hold my nerve as he charges, my cheeks flushing red from the effort of not moving my body. Finally, at the last second, I side step and swipe my sword across the man's body. He collapses with defeat, and I stab him again in the back just to make sure that he is truly dead.

  The second one is over me before I can react. His thick arms wrap around my fragile body, and chucks it at the nearest dwelling as if I was as light as air. My body hits the hard wood with a loud thud, sending thundering shockwaves soaring through my body, shaking my vision like the tremors of an earthquake.

  I raise a hand tentatively in front of my face and blink as the fingers distort into branches, and my eyes sting with water from the smoke. Luckily I had hit a building which had not been set alight - yet.

  I try to get to my feet, but my legs crumble beneath me, leaving me crawling on the ground, my legs still failing to find enough courage to stand. My vision unexpectedly blurs into a puddle of madness, and soon I am unable to distinguish between fire and the rage filling my vision.

  Something gruesome and wet hits my face, and a kick lands in my stomach. I rush to place a hand on the target zone of the blow, an unknown ache spreading through my body. "Pathetic," My opponent murmurs, but I am unable to locate him or where his voice is coming from. All I can hear is a deep ring in my ears, and his voice haunting my memories. "You'll pay for what you've done, traitor."

  Traitor? I'm the traitor? I was never a true rogue in the first place, and how the hell does he even know who I am?

  I grit my teeth, and feel a sharp pain in my eyes, signalling that they have changed colour. "What did you call me?"

  The rogues growls. I still can't make out where he is, but at least he hasn't kicked me for a second time. "You heard me," he says before pausing for a second, "traitor."

  You just messed with the wrong girl, arsehole, I say to myself, and leap to my feet as quickly as I can. The movement is not perfected and I stumbled forwards due to the momentum of the thrust provided by my muscles, but I manage to stay upright.

  I take a knife from my belt, blinking away the haze in my eyes, although it still looks as though I am gazing through a plastic screen that has condensed water droplets formed on the smooth surface. And the plastic is tinted scarlet.

  The rogue is standing in front of me before I can properly snap out of my dizziness. He was how you expected the usual rogue to look: broad-shouldered, with multiple scars and fresh cuts, and a huge body which looked capable of anything short of death. Oh, and let's not forget the shoulder length tangled mess of hair and beard.

  I notice his exposed frame, an
d almost smile to myself. Rogues may be good fighters, but they sure as hell could be stupid.

  I lash out with my knife, and he raises his arm and blocks my blow. I swing my arm back as he moves his own limb away from his body to prepare for another blow, leaving it completely unprotected.

  "I'm not a traitor. I wasn't even a proper rogue," I hiss through my teeth, and release the knife from my grip. "I'm packless."

  The rogue staggers backwards as the knife meets his abdomen. His face is contorted into shock as his body slackens, blood pooling from his mouth in a crimson waterfall.

  I stand there, panting as I retrieve my fallen sword from the ground. But as soon as I open my lips, I am forced to shut it as the smoke takes all the moisture away from my mouth. Coughing, I lean over and sway towards the right of the pathway where Alex and the Arla warriors had been standing.

  All that is left are the ghosts of their existence. The smoke, heavy and appearing a widow black had swallowed them whole. And, in their place, stood a girl. The third rogue.

  If I was in a cartoon, my eyes would be standing on stalks, elongated meters from my head. But this is not a cartoon, so I stare instead. Never in my life had I expected to see a real female rogue. I don't want to sound sexist, but from what I had been taught about rogues was that they never let females fight because they were deemed 'too weak' to do so. My arse they were too weak: I had won the Alpha Trials, and I was nowhere near the strongest female I knew.

  Not only was she a girl, but she was beautiful as well. Her hair was a light brown that flowed in waves down to her ribs, and her face was adorned with large azure eyes. Unlike Azra's sharp and gorgeous features, this girl had a much sweeter look with a softer nose and long, angelic eye lashes.

  The only thing not angelic about her face was the smirk plastered on it.

  She smiles at me sympathetically, somehow frowning at the same time. Even though she was pretty, the facial expression created an ominous shadow over her face and dehumanised her features.

  "What?" She enquires at my shocked expression. "You weren't expecting a girl?"

  I shake my head, "Rogues don't let girls fight."

  The girl's smile grows, splitting her face into two equal halves. "Well, that's the perks of being Hunter's sister, although he doesn't let his mate anywhere near the battle. Shame, really. She's good with a crossbow." The girl then rolls her eyes, taking a machete from her belt. "Whoops, I probably told you too much, but I guess that doesn't matter because you'll be dead in a minute."

  "You can say what you want bitch, but I'm not dying today," I growl, the burning sensation in my pupils telling me that my irises are still a metallic pigment; I was on the brink of transforming. I was angry at her words, but I was also startled that Hunter - whom I remember being the leader of the rogues - had a mate, or even a sister.

  The girl twitches her lips. "We'll see about that."

  A battle cry is launched into the air from her mouth as her face becomes a mask of anger and bloodlust. She licks her lips as she pushes herself in to the air, machete in tow. Luckily, I was at an advantage with my longer weapon, but she appeared to be much more nimble and agile than I had first anticipated.

  The girl brings down her weapon in an ark, and I swerve to the side, feeling the rush of parting air next to my arm where I had stood seconds ago. The brunette lets out a shriek of frustration, and turns around, her chest heaving with acrimony. I guessed that she was the same age as myself, but with her creased face and features, she looked like the oldest werewolf I had seen in my entire life.

  Swiftly, before I have time to react, the girl swings her sword and manages to cut a deep gash across my arm. I grit my teeth, a whistling breath rattling through the hollow bones as I force myself not to cry out in pain.

  So this was her game: attack when I was least expecting.

  "What?" She looks at me with fake concern. "You weren't expecting that?"

  She expects a reply, so I don't give her one. I swipe my sword precisely across her body, but her own machete meets mine before I can cause any real damage. I push my sword forwards into her body using all the might I can muster from my arms, but she manages to keep the blade away from her body. My cut feels like it's been incinerated by a flamethrower, but I don't give up.

  "Hunter asked for me to deliver you alive as a hostage, but I don't think he'll mind if I 'accidentally' slip my machete into your heart," She sneers, our faces so close that our noses are only millimetres apart. Fire swirls around us in a tornado, yet I do not focus on the smoke suffocating my lungs, or the heat crippling my skin.

  Her sneer sends a shiver plummeting down my spine, but I ignore my reaction and latch my blade onto hers using the handle. Using all of my stored strength, I clench my teeth together, and tear the blade from the girl's grip.

  The machete flies over my shoulder and into the fire engulfing a dwelling behind us. There was no way she was going to get her weapon back, and I finally had the upper hand.

  "Clever," She says, and in a lightning bolt punches me on the jaw. I blink, mouth open in shock. How had she moved so quickly? "But I'm only just getting started."

  This girl was getting on my nerves. She had one of those dislikeable and annoying personalities which you couldn't avoid. Nor was she a nice person. I didn't picture myself as the nicest person in the world, but at least I didn't go around telling everyone that I'll kill them the moment I meet them.

  This girl was also cocky and arrogant. She was what you expected the most popular girl in high school to be like: a bitch.

  She throws another punch at my face in a blur, and I am able to ark my back, but not in time. Her fist connects with my face, and I feel the crunch of my nose being displaced. I whine at the sudden fusillade of ache, but I am quick to slash with my blade, and it finally connects with her leg.

  The metal slices deep into her muscle, and - by some miracle - manages to miss any major arteries.

  "You bitch!" The she-wolf whines as her left leg collapses to the ground, leaving her standing on one leg. Her face was no longer contorted with resentment, but with pain instead. The face that she wore didn't look like something that belong among her features.

  I sigh, "I can say the same to you."

  "He'll kill you if you kill me," she warns, stumbling backwards, but her good leg loses balance and she topples over like a chess piece onto the mud scattered with the dilapidated grey pigment of ash. "I swear to God, he will kill you."

  I frown at her. "But how will he know it was me?"

  Her cobalt eyes widen with realisation before she releases an animalistic cry which churns through the inferno surrounding us. "Go on then. Get it over with. Kill me."

  I gulp. I didn't want to kill a girl. It just felt wrong, even if she was just as evil as the other rogues in her army.

  "No," I state calmly, the smoke flying into my mouth and ridding it of moisture. "I'll leave that to the flames," I finish, and bring the hilt of my sword down against her temple, and she falls before I can complete my action.

  I feel like a rock has been lifted off my chest, just for a boulder to take its place. I didn't want to be this person: a killer; a freaking second in command. I wish that I was still back at my 'rogue' camp, and that Damien had never led the attack to wipe us out. I wish that none of this had happened. Then maybe, just maybe, I would be normal. Well, as normal as a werewolf could get.

  Your fight is not over yet, Aurora, my brain reminds me. As I gaze around at the plumes of soot, and red-hot flames, I realise that I am trapped in a maze of scintillation, and that there is no way to escape. No matter where I lay my eyes, each path is blocked, and each exit is showered in bonfire crimson.

  "Dad!" I hear the voice in the distance, but it's close enough to reach. "Someone, help! Please! Help!"

  I sprint towards the desperate voice, choking on the air which has turned to acid. My legs move too quickly for my body, and I almost stumble as I run blindly into the flames.