Running with Rogues

Luna of Rogues is currently cruising #1 in rogue (the only tag which matters), so nice work, y'all. Let's show all the pack-lovers what they're missing ;)

P.S. welcome Malaysia!

The packlings were slow to find our trail and slower still to follow it, so we'd gone nearly a mile before the sound of their hunting howls reached us. There wasn't a ghost of a chance they would catch us now. We were only five minutes from the border, but that didn't mean we were out of the woods — literally or figuratively.

Stretching my back leg out was excruciating, so I tucked it against my body and ran on three legs. It wasn't easy. I had to correct my balance every other step, and the other hind leg soon ached, but I could still keep up with Nia just fine. She set the pace, glancing back every so often to make sure I hadn't fallen behind.

The undergrowth swayed to our left, and that was all the warning we got before a wolf pounced at us. He was big and well-built, and he crashed headlong into Nia's shoulder, sending her tumbling. By the time I had managed to skid to a halt, it was already too late — they'd rolled and she'd gotten hold of his neck in the span of a few seconds. She shook him like a ragdoll and left him lying in the mud with spinal damage.

I dropped my knife and pressed my side against hers. We waited, head-to-tail, eyeing the ferns around us, because flockies were never alone. We didn't have to wait long. Two more wolves burst from the bushes, and then another two. It was an entire patrol, and they must've reckoned they'd have an easy job tackling two female rogues.

They hadn't counted on Nia. Me? I was average at fighting, and that was being generous. But Nia was worth, like, six normal wolves.

So I went for the smallest, skinniest wolf there, and Nia went for the other three. They hadn't been expecting us to attack them, outnumbered as we were, so my opponent scrambled backwards until his rump hit a tree. And then I was on him - my teeth tearing into his side. Hot blood filled my mouth, the taste of it jolting me awake and setting my heart to racing.

I quite enjoyed fighting. It wasn't as good as running, but there was something about imminent danger which turned my whole body electric. As soon as I'd snapped at the packling, and he'd snapped back at me, we had passed the point of no return. One of us would live and one of us would die right on that patch of earth.

He managed to close his jaws around my forelimb, and the pain was ... well, it hurt. That goes without saying. It also pissed me off. As soon as he'd locked his jaw, he was vulnerable. I didn't bother going for his throat. I just ripped open the corner of his mouth, taking out a chunk of the muscle which worked his jaw. He couldn't keep hold of my leg, because his lower jaw was hanging useless, and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop me opening his carotid.

He writhed and slumped onto his hocks, his front claws raking across my chest. Before long, he was just twitching on the ground.

Dead. Or heading that way.

And then I was free to help Nia, who wasn't doing too badly. She had incapacitated one of her opponents already, and now she was wrestling with another and doing her best to ignore the wolf with his jaws clamped around her shoulder.

I went for that wolf — biting clean through the last five inches of his tail. Enraged, he released Nia and twisted around to punish me for it, but I was ready for him. Before he could turn all the way, I reared up and bit down on his lower back, vertebrae cracking under my teeth. He dropped like a stone.

The other packling was down, too, his intestines spilling into the mud.

Nia was panting through a grin. Her pelt was bloodied, her shoulder scratched to ribbons, and she had never looked happier.