The Pack - On the Run

I thought, at first, I was imagining things.

I certainly wasn’t looking at the woman who had abandoned us standing right there in front of me. Dirtied, bloodied, and pitifully haggard - propping herself against the tree as if her life depended on it - but there nonetheless.

It wasn’t possible. My eyes were definitely playing tricks on me. There was no other explanation...

I kept thinking that even when mum took a tentative step towards us, and her scent - a sweet mix of vanilla and a putrid stench of sweat, blood, and fear - wafted to my nose.

I kept thinking that...

Until, unexpectedly, mum’s eyes rolled up, her legs gave out from under her, and she collapsed in a heap like a rag doll.

Limp.

My body moved before my brain even registered it. Suddenly, I was sliding on the damp moss and leaves, which thickly littered the ground, throwing my arms to cushion mum’s fall and save her from injuring herself some more. I felt the dead weight of her body as it crashed into my arms, and I squatted, the force making me almost land on my butt. Mum’s head lolled back against my arm, and her greasy, messy hair fell away from her face, showing more injuries. I scanned them with a morbid curiosity - one bump, cut, and bruise after another.

I licked my dry lips, applying a bit more pressure on mum’s arms.

They felt solid under my fingertips.

It was real.

Everything was real.

I blinked, my heart thundering in my chest, blood whooshing in my ears.

What. The actual fuck. Was going on?

Why was she even here? And looking as if she was... abused. Covered in cuts, claw marks, and bruises, and...

Was that a bite mark on her leg...?

Blood drained from my face as a soft, pitful wail escaped my mouth.

I couldn’t comprehend it, too shocked to understand what I was staring at. Too shocked, in fact, to do anything about it. I didn’t even notice my body trembling or my teeth chattering until Mikey’s quiet, shy steps drew my attention from our mother - and what had clearly become of her...

“Is that... mum?” My brother’s distressed question reached my ears.

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how.

My eyes flicked to mum’s chest to assure myself she was still breathing. Her respiration was so faint I barely heard it despite my supernatural hearing.

“Josie?” Mikey tried again, snapping me once more from my chaotic thoughts.

I finally looked up, still holding mum’s lifeless body in my arms.

“We have to go,” I whispered, ignoring his question as I swallowed the thick lump in my throat, my fingers unconsciously digging into the flesh of mum’s flail arms.

My gaze flew to the surrounding shrubbery. Skittish. Whoever did that to mum could be somewhere close. We had to get the hell away... we had to hightail.

ASAP.

“We need to move. Now,” I said urgently, standing up.

But then I heard a soft rustle somewhere on my right. I whirled on my heel, growling.

I wasn’t going to let them get to my brother or mother.

Ever.

I gently placed mum back on the ground, then stepped in front of her, shielding both her and Mikey with my body. I was shaking like a leaf, spiked by fear and adrenaline...

And rage. So much rage.

The rustle became more pronounced, growing closer and closer as the woods went eerily quiet, the silence so deep it was ringing in my ears. My gaze narrowed on the blackberry bushes with pinkish, unripe fruits dotting the greenery like specks of blood. I shaped my hands in claws, bent my knees, and curled my lips backward, flashing my elongated canines on full display.

I was ready...

A tall, bulky man in a crew cut dark brown hair emerged from the trees.

My heart stopped for one long second before it started to pump blood again.

As the man regarded us with his narrow, dark brown eyes, they widened a fraction, showing surprise.

I loosened my stance a bit, my shoulders sagging in relief.

“How come the two of you are always in the middle of trouble?” Raph frowned, taking us in.

“Oh, thank God,” I exhaled loudly, placing my hand on my chest and almost collapsing on the ground. “Help us, please. We need to get mum to Rosalynd. She’s almost...” Dead. “She’s been injured.”

“That woman’s your mum?” Raph lifted his eyebrows in a clear sign of shock as he hastily breached the gap between us. I could see why he didn’t notice any semblance between us, though - not with how mum’s face was bruised and coloured fifty shades of purple. “Any idea what has happened to her?”

I shook my head no, a queasy, ugly feeling squeezing my stomach.

I wanted to vomit.

“No. We haven’t been in touch since mum left us. She’s just sprouted up on us, looking like... Like this,” I rumbled as I started to pace nervously back and forth, one hand on my hip, the other on my forehead. My head was spinning. “Do you know...” I licked my lips nervously. “Do you know who could do this?”

“Not sure, but we’ll get to the bottom of this, Josie. But, honestly, that’s the least of our worries now,” Raph murmured, inspecting the nasty bite on mum’s calf. He took a whiff of the wound, his nose scrunching as if he had bitten on something foul. “She’s healing...” He mumbled under his breath.

I wasn’t sure if he wanted me to hear it, but it was too late anyway.

My eyes snapped to mum’s injury, again taking it in.

Raph was right. Mum was healing. The torn muscles on her leg were slowly mending together, knitted as if by magic.

And it could only mean one thing.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. I fisted my hands so hard that my nails pierced the skin of my palms.

“Don’t tell me-”

“Yeah,” Raph cut me in, his expression dark and gloomy. “You’re mum’s been bitten by a werewolf. She’s gonna change...”

And she would be lucky to survive it.