Chasing His Kickass Luna Back

Karl

I burst through the cabin door, my senses on high alert. My heart races as I take in the scene before me—two men standing over Abby, in the middle of what looks like a desperate struggle.

It's just as I force my way through the door in my wolf form that I see the light fade from Abby's eyes, and fury flows through me. She's just hit her head, and she’s unconscious and bleeding. I need to act quickly.

I let out a fierce growl, baring my fangs at them as I begin to stalk closer. It's clear what these men brought her here to do, but I won't let them have their way with her.

The two men turn toward me, shock written across their stupid faces. They exchange glances, and then they shift as well; one of them, the other one, is bigger than me, but I'm not worried. I could take both of them with my eyes closed.

It's then that my wolf instincts take over, and everything becomes a blur of senses and instincts. The two men, their eyes filled with hostility, quickly begin to stalk toward me. But my gaze is fixed on Abby, laying motionless in the corner.

“I'm here, Abby,” I think to myself. “I won't let these fuckers hurt you.”

Time seems to slow down as I prepare mentally for the impending fight. The scent of pine and snow fills the air, along with the metallic tang of adrenaline. My heart races, and my muscles tense, ready for battle.

One of the men lunges at me, teeth bared, trying to bite my throat. I swiftly dodge to the side, narrowly avoiding his attack, and snap my jaws at his side, biting into his fur and flesh. He lets out a pained yelp.

The other man seizes the opportunity to attack, lunging at my exposed side and biting my hind leg. I shake my leg forcefully, forcing him to let go with a howl! of pain.

With a fierce growl, I charge at the first man again, slashing the air with my claws. He dodges and we circle each other, waiting for a chance to strike.

Suddenly, he lunges again, aiming for my throat. I move aside just in time, and his teeth graze my shoulder. I retaliate with a swipe of my claws, leaving bloody marks on his flank. He yelps and stumbles back.

The second man, determined not to be left behind, attacks again. He charges at me, teeth bared, and we clash jaws, wrestling for control. The cabin’s wooden floor creaks beneath our weight as we grapple.

With a surge of strength, I manage to pin him to the ground, my teeth dangerously close to his throat. He whimpers and surrenders, fear in his eyes.

But I can't relax yet. The first man, bloodied but angry, continues his assault. He lunges at me with fury, teeth snapping. I twist and turn, narrowly avoiding his attack.

Our battle intensifies, teeth and claws flashing. I fight with all my might, my determination unwavering. My only goal is Abby's safety, and I won't stop until I've eliminated the threats.

The fight is a brutal contest, a test of strength and willpower. I feel fatigue setting in, the strain on my muscles becoming more pronounced. But I push through, driven by instinct.

Finally, the two men seem to realize that they're outmatched. They whimper in submission and slink away, darting into the shadowy, snowy forest. They're not coming back. I'm sure of it.

I know that I should call the police, but it's no use; they're already gone, and the police won't get out here for hours in this blizzard. I can't waste any time with getting Abby to safety.

Breathing heavily, I turn my attention to Abby. She's still unconscious, her breathing shallow and uneven. Blood seeps from the wound on her head, staining the floor beneath her. Panic grips my heart as I shift back into my human form and fall to my knees beside her, nudging her gently. "Abby, wake up,” I plead, my voice soft and desperate. “You have to wake up.”

But she remains unresponsive. I can't waste any more time here. The snow outside is deep, and we're in the middle of nowhere, but I need to get Abby to warmth and safety as soon as possible. With great care, I lift Abby into my arms, cradling her gently. She's so light, and I can feel her fragile heartbeat against my chest. Determination fuels my every step as I make my way through the thick snow, my vision blurred by the swirling flakes

The journey back to the car is treacherous and slow. Each step is a struggle through the snow, which is up to my knees by now, but I can't afford to stop. Abby's life depends on me getting her out of this freezing wilderness.

Finally, I reach the car after what feels like an eternity, my breath coming out in heavy puffs. I carefully place Abby in the back seat, making sure she’s as comfortable as possible. I manage to get the seatbelt around her just in case and then glance at her one last time, my heart aching with worry.

"Hang in there, Abby,” I whisper, my voice filled with determination. “I'll get us out of here.”

After climbing back into the driver's seat and letting the car heat up for a few moments, I quickly shift the car into gear and begin driving, my focus solely on getting us to safety. The snow continues to fall heavily, reducing my visibility to almost nothing.

My heart races with each passing moment, fear for Abby's life gnawing at me. The seconds feel like hours as I navigate through the whiteout conditions, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Abby's head injury is a constant reminder of the danger she’s in. I can't afford to make any mistakes. The car skids and slides on the icy road, but I keep my foot steady on the gas pedal, determined to get us home.

At one point, the car swerves on the snowy road, the tires having nothing concrete to grip. My heart leaps into my throat, and all I can think about is keeping Abby safe back there.

I manage to regain control, but I need to slow down. I'm going way too fast, and going too fast in these conditions could just put the both of us in even more danger.

Then, finally, the snow seems to let up. The landscape is still a sheet of pure white, but I can finally see again. Up ahead, I can make out the orange lights of a snow plough making its way down the road, and I let out a sigh of relief.

I take one last glance in the rearview mirror to see that Abby is still out of it, but she seems to be stirring at least a little bit. Her face is twisting in pain in her sleep, but that's a good sign; if she can feel the pain, then she’s not completely gone.

“Don’t worry, Abby,” I murmur as I guide the car down the snowy road. “We're going home.”