4
The wolf—the beast—is huge. Twice the size of us, large enough to block out the light of the moon. The full moon. No. No. This is a sick joke. This isn’t… It’s not …
Celeste finds the knife in my hand, loosely dangling from my grasp, and tightens my fist around it. “Run,” she commands.
“What?” I can’t think, breathe, even feel. I am petrified.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It can’t be real.
“We need to run.” Celeste begins walking us quickly down the street, past a closed strip mall and flickering streetlights.
“We’re drunk,” I say. “We—we had too much, and now we—”
“It’s real,” she hisses.
I turn because she’s wrong. I want her to be wrong—even when, buried deep in my gut, I know that she’s right. The wolf remains. It lowers its front legs to the ground, almost as if—as if it’s going to pounce. But it wouldn’t, right? Why would it want to pounce on us ?
“We need to run.” Celeste clutches my shoulders, her nails digging brutally into my skin. Horror fills her gaze.
The wolf leaps and lands hard in the gravel of the road. Chunks of rock break off, scatter in the breeze like marbles thrown in the wind. It snarls, its sharpened fangs flashing in the darkness. Its eyes glow so red, they’re almost black.
Shit.
We really need to run.
Just then, my brain catches up to reality. My legs begin working. I pull Celeste forward, and we stumble after each other, our minds racing faster than our limbs.
“Split up,” Celeste says in a rush. “If we go in different directions, that—that thing will be less likely to catch—”
“No! I’m not leaving you. We run together.” It doesn’t matter that I’ve always been faster. That she might slow me down. I can’t leave her.
I don’t understand what’s happening or why, but vicious growls pierce the night, and we throw ourselves down the sidewalk, our sandals slapping the concrete.
Someone will find us. Or this is a dream.
Or… My thoughts come in quick bursts of hope and fear as I pump my legs faster, haul Celeste after me.
Nearly drag her body. We can make it out of this. We can find help and survive.
She loses a sandal, almost trips and falls as it flies off behind us. “Fuck,” she whispers. Her hand grows clammy in mine and slips from my grip, but I grab her wrist instead and heave her back to her feet.
“Keep running,” I say between breaths. “Don’t stop running. Someone will come. Someone will help us.”
Her bare foot slows our pace even more, but I keep us moving as quickly as possible.
I think of volleyball practice. Every morning for two hours before school.
The laps I run around the court until my lungs ache and I consider quitting and joining the school’s book club instead.
This is just like that. We run, and we run.
There is no stopping. Past the strip mall and a gas station and—
Oh, shit. Shit shit shit.
There is a second wolf, slightly smaller than the one behind us, prowling behind the gas station. Eyes bloodred. It bares its teeth from a darkened alleyway and springs into action.
No. God, no .
“Move,” I command. There is no thinking anymore; there is only doing. Celeste huffs, sobs breaking between each of her breaths. I know she’s crying. I’m crying. But we can’t stop moving.
This is a goddamned nightmare.
The second wolf begins to run alongside us, and I flick open my Swiss Army knife. Hold it as if it’s our only lifeline.
Celeste starts to limp, but she doesn’t give up. I don’t give up. We dodge the first wolf, swerving into the road. I pray someone drives down the street. Anyone. We scream. For help, for mercy. For everything. No one answers our prayers.
The streets remain empty, almost too silent. Too abandoned. This is some sick joke. It has to be.
And then Celeste trips, and my heart stops.
She collapses with a howl of pain, and I try not to glance back as I drag her to her feet. But she isn’t stable. She can’t stand up.
“Vanessa,” Celeste cries from the road. “Vanessa, I can’t—”
“You can,” I say, tasting salt on my lips. Tears. Mine.
“I can’t .” A piece of jagged glass protrudes from her bare foot. Blood trickles around the wound, dripping onto the ground. Behind us—far too close—there is a heated exhale and a growl. She can’t run. Not anymore. Not at all.
“You have to go.” She rips my hand off hers. Blue hair sticks to her cheeks, her eyes. She looks wild, crazed, as she shoves me. Once, twice. “Go, you stupid idiot! Get out of here.”
“I’m not—”
She throws me forward this time, pushing with so much might that she collapses onto her knees with another shrill cry. I stumble backward, landing on my ass as the wolf behind us makes one more jump.
It hits the earth right in front of Celeste.
The last time I see her face, she is screaming for me to get up and run.
Her mouth is parted. Her eyes are wide. And I—I can’t move.
In this moment, space swallows time, and I am trapped in an endless loop of hell on Earth.
Before I can breathe, the wolf tears into her neck. Blood spurts. Then gushes.
Celeste’s blood.
My fingers twitch around cold metal. No. No no no.
I said I wouldn’t leave her. I promised.
Thoughts escape me, reason and reality fleeing my mind. I promised.
“Get off!” I lunge with my knife out and stab the wolf between its ribs, gripping its fur for leverage. It yelps. A sad, pathetic sound. Good. I relish it. Look to see if Celeste celebrates too.
But she’s limp, and she’s drowning in her own blood. Crumpled like a rag doll in a pool of scarlet. The sight of her—it makes me pause. It makes me whimper.
The wolf shakes, jostling me back and forth as if I’m in the midst of a tornado. Its rippling muscles bruise my skin with each hard throttle, but I can’t—I can’t let go. The knife almost falls from my hand, but I grasp it tighter. Regain control. For Celeste.
I stab the wolf again, deeper this time. Twisting the blade so that it hurts. So that it maims . “Get. Off. Her!” I tear my knife down its side, and the wolf snarls. But I am not afraid. I’m someone else now. Someone terrifying. Someone in control.
I want to kill it. I need to kill it. And that will fix everything.
It has to fix everything.
Before I get the chance, the second wolf rushes out from the shadows, snaps me up in its jaws, and… and bites.
I scream from the immediate explosion of pain.
My ribs fracture between its teeth, its fangs shredding the flesh of my waist. It feels like melting.
Like being thrown onto an open flame and blistering to death.
I scramble, try to scratch at its eye with my nails.
Try to unclamp its jaw from my skin. It hurts.
It hurts, and I’m going to die. I scream again.
Louder. Until my throat aches and my lungs give out.
The bite feels like needles, like razors, like a dagger sharp enough to peel flesh like an orange.
The wolf seems pleased. Slowly, it opens its mouth and drops me on the ground. Right beside what used to be Celeste. A sob splinters my chest. The pain of the bite dims to the faint throbbing of a heartbreak.
A barely connected pile of skin and bone and hair lies limp on the ground in a sea of blood, in the broken shape of my best friend.
My North Star. Imploded.
My constellation. Snuffed out.
All that remains is blue hair. Blue and red and red and red.
Suddenly, I can’t bring myself to care about wolves anymore.
It doesn’t matter that they stalk out of sight.
That I can hear their bones cracking and reforming in the distance.
I curl my fingers into the earth, slowly wrenching myself toward her, inch by bloody inch, until I’m holding her in my lap.
I promised I wouldn’t leave, and so I won’t.