Chapter 7 - Annika #2
I stop behind a bush to catch my breath, suddenly becoming more aware of the adrenaline that fills my veins, thumps in my eardrums, and bursts through my heart like it’s trying to tell me something.
Like it’s trying to warn me about something, the fine hairs on the back of my neck prickling at attention as I sense a presence coming forth.
I’m not sure how I know, but there’s an eerie silence that spreads through the forest, and it just feels…strange. Not wrong, but heavy, assertive, and something tells me to run.
So I do just that.
I run as fast as my feet can carry me, racing through the woods and becoming aware of something chasing me, hot on my heels. I turn back once, and nearly lose my footing when I glimpse the most horrifyingly magnificent creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
It’s a wolf, but it’s much larger than any I’ve seen in the pictures depicting the wolves of the forest. This one, with its silky chestnut brown fur, appears three times my size, consuming my shadow behind me, its steps vibrating the ground as I run from it.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I feel as if I’m not going to make it out alive.
Not with some ghastly creature chasing me like I’m its next meal. I thought I was escaping Henry, but I just ended up running into the throes of my impending death—
“Gah!” I cry out when my foot hits a loose rock on the ground, and I lose my momentum, falling forward onto my knees and scraping the surface of my flesh. My knees burn, and my heart lodges in my throat when I hear the wolf slow down behind me.
Its steps crunch the ground as it comes toward me, every step thundering in my heart and turning my body frightfully frozen until it comes into view.
A majestic beast, with fur billowing out toward the left, following the direction of the passing wind.
It appears gentle, its beady eyes softening—if that’s even possible.
The scent of power hits my airways, and along with it comes the realization that this is it. This is the moment I’m about to die.
“No…no…” I whimper, closing my eyes only to see my life flash behind my eyelids, every memory coming to the surface—even the ones I thought I’d buried.
The wolf towers over me now. I can feel its presence surrounding me, consuming, enveloping me in its authority, and claiming that I am its next meal.
Then, it touches me, a paw pressed on my shoulder, startling me with how gentle it is, and I open my eyes, fear-stricken and unable to scream in the face of this grave danger.
I fall onto my back, hypnotized when I meet the wolf’s eyes, which match the color of the trees and bushes surrounding us—a familiar green that reminds me of the hatred burning in my chest. It becomes a feeble spark now, a dying ember of what fueled me to run through these parts of the woods in the first place.
The reason for my inevitable demise now, and I close my eyes, body stiff against the ground and beneath the paw that covers half my chest from where it’s pressed against my shoulder.
Bracing for the impact, I hold my breath, waiting for what is sure to come, and wondering how much pain there will be before I don’t feel anything at all.
My body is frozen with the thought, but then I hear the wisp of a gentle breeze, and the tightness of the paw on my shoulder loosens until it feels as if there’s a human hand pinning me down.
“Annika…”
I hear my name, from a voice that I’d wished I would never hear again. And it prompts me to open my eyes, only to find the glowing greenish-blue depths of the man I hate.
“Henry…?” I whisper, too shocked that he’s inches away, the scent of his cologne wafting into my nostrils and bringing with it a sense of relief.
Did I just die?
Why is he the first thing I see when I wake up on the other side?
He’s towering over me, knees on either side of me, his hand pressed to my shoulder. I blink in disbelief, wincing from the closeness, from his touch, and that’s when he removes his hand and climbs to his feet.
He holds out a hand toward me, and I’m not sure if I should take it. But lying here on the ground while he stands over me feels pathetic, so I take his hand reluctantly, snatching my hand away as soon as I’m on my feet.
There’s a nagging burning sensation on my knees, which is strange if I’ve woken up in the afterlife after the wolf took mine. I shouldn’t be feeling pain if I’m dead, and that’s when I look around, realizing that I’m still alive—as alive as the forest around us.
“Wh-what’s going on?” I ask, my eyes widening with horror. “Where’s the wolf?”
“You were running away, Annika,” Henry states calmly, arching a brow at me.
“I—That’s not the point!” I argue. “There was a wolf here just now. It was about to kill me.”
“The wolf wasn’t going to kill you, Anni,” Henry chuckles nonchalantly. “It was simply catching up to you when you were running away.”
His nonchalance is infuriating, but maybe it’s mostly because I’m in denial of that little voice in my head trying to make sense of how Henry’s standing in front of me now, in place of a majestic animal that had me pinned down.
The eyes were the same…you recognized them…
No!
“Is that your pet? You have a pet wolf? Could you get any crazier?” I ramble to drown out the sounds of my inner voice.
Henry remains calm, chuckling again as he steps forward and closes a little more distance between us. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes when he says, “I think I’m about to get a little crazier when I say this, Anni, but I am the wolf you just encountered.”
“No…” I shake my head, laughing to express my disbelief. “That’s impossible. You’re just—that’s impossible. How can you think that I’d believe that? I know you’re lying to me.”
Henry’s expression turns flat. “I am Heinrich Rudolph, the Alpha of the Silver Stone Pack of the Bitterroot Valley,” he declares with an air of might and conviction that reeks of authority.
But the only thing believable in his statement is the part where he said “Bitterroot Valley,” and nothing more. Alpha? Silver Stone Pack?
“Heinrich Rudolph? You’re Henry Ralph.”
“Heinrich ‘Henry Ralph’ Rudolph. Ralph was my grandfather’s name, and Henry Ralph was the alias I used in the city to run the company.”
I shake my head slowly, unable to believe what he’s saying, but even his eyes seem to be earnest. They’re still more green than blue; his pupils circled with flecks of gold, like a ring that signifies his sincerity.
But I still can’t believe it. “There’s no way. It’s not possible. You can’t be a man and a wolf. It’s not possible.”
“Actually, it is possible. I am the descendant of very powerful werewolves. Shapeshifters. I can shapeshift at will. Wanna see?”
I’m still shaking my head, unable to believe a word he says. A mythical creature? Is that what he is?
My mind races with many questions, all of which don’t seem to have answers, while Henry—or Heinrich, or whatever his name is—takes a few steps back, then nods.
“It’s time you finally understood why you’re here, Annika. I am no ordinary man. I am a werewolf. And the valley…well, the valley needs you.”
The valley needs me?
I barely have time to process that statement when Henry lowers his head, his shoulders heaving with uncontrollable breaths as a violent crack slices through the air.
I gasp when I realize what’s happening, and barely grasp the magnitude of what’s going on when his limbs twist, and the hair on his arms instantly grows.
Chestnut brown fur splits from his pores and spreads across his arms and shins, his joints bending and forming the giant limbs of the wolf.
His front paws hit the ground where his hands should have been, the landing soft, skillful, as his face morphs and his mouth turns into a muzzle.
Shock renders me speechless, and when he takes a step forward as if to confirm that he is the wolf who shapeshifted from a man, my vision blurs, my breath catches in my throat, and my head feels like it’s spinning.
The ground underneath my feet feels like it opens up and swallows me.
When everything goes black, I fall into some void of disbelief.