The Alpha King's Hunter

This was where it all began to end. In a large hall built to host the prompt meetings to solidify the pact between the supernaturals or anything else within that range. This meeting, as it'd been quite an impromptu one, would lead to other impromptu things that would prompt other nonsensicals in turn.

There was a brief silence as thick as a blanket made of animal skin in the hall. This silence was so intense it was like a being itself. Maybe if anybody reached out, they would bump into it. But, nobody reached out. The table held them by the hairs on their skin, or whatever held their bodies and the essence of their beings together.

This is how it all began to end. Starting from one supernatural being to another. And on and on, until the one who'd truly come with an agenda struck hands-on, quite literally as you'd see.

Alpha Seth, the assigned King of this supernatural conclave, relaxed on the big iron chair that sufficed as a throne to watch the other leaders present. His head was spinning at three-sixty km per second (his mind, rather), but his exterior was calm. His temperature was rising, he could feel its steady climb at each degree. His heartbeat was decelerating and his palms were clammy under the table where he'd folded them to hide the trembling.

A thought ran through his mind: his beloved, Luna Esther. Oh, how much he missed her, right then. She'd have known where to make it all feel better; the right button to press and reset this maddening sickness eating at both his body and mind.

Then, the head vampire spoke, counting his words like it was rumoured that he counted the hours before sundown. Blasted rumours. Actually, he counted the hours before the sun was up. If they wanted to spread rumours about him, the least all they had to do was to possess or borrow the dignity of doing it right, not turn it upside down. Well, most rumours weren't true, just based on loose bits of the truth. He adjusted his winter jacket, imagining how pale his face must look against the light brown fabric.

He cleared his throat and began his unplanned speech, anything to break the silence: "My fellow supernaturals, what the Faes have said is right. The werewolves have led for more than their allotted time." He smiled, baring his fangs to ascertain that he was not to be interrupted, as he could see the elf leader beginning to slowly raise his hand. He continued, "However, since it has started this way, why don't we let our good Alpha run the course of this tenure, till the year runs out, and hand it over to the next supernatural in line?"

Someone hit something. Others followed. Everyone's attention instantly left Vampire Keat and focused on the far end of the hall-the entrance, where all the transportation gears had been lined up. The Gremlins weren't listening. No, they never listened. They were busy causing all sorts of trouble at the back. This wasn't new, it repeated like a bad record every time they had a meeting.

Vampire Keat cleared his throat. The lead gremlin left his assistant and came towards the table, not apologizing and not following the due process. They all ignored him. They all focused on Vampire Keat again.

The high priestess of the witches who'd been rumoured to have killed her predecessor, stood with too much grace, Vampire Keat sat back, almost afraid it was the sun.

She spoke with such eloquence, her voice sounded like many waters. "We cannot keep waiting for the change in leadership. We are being ruled by beasts!" She paused, as if waiting for anyone to interrupt her. When they didn't, she continued, "Last week, before I put in word for this meeting to be held in my premises, a few of my people were killed, ripped apart, should I say, by wolves!"

All forms of order broke as soon as the last word left her lips. The dwarves stood on the table and jeered; the elves shook their heads, their ears wobbling; the dragon humans sat up and began to talk; the Gremlins watched, arguing not their forte; and the Faes tried to make peace.

The high priestess' eyes shone, soaking in the chaos, just like she'd orchestrated it all. Maybe she had. But, the alpha King who the allegation had been against, sat back and looked on, like he was in another place. His skin was suddenly pale, rivalling that of Vampire Keat.

"Can we hear ourselves?" It was the dragon king that spoke this time, snorting smoke from his huge nose. The supernaturals, who'd begun to argue, paused to listen. This was one thing that was commendable about that particular meeting: they listened. Not too well, but they did. The Dragon king looked on at the beings before him, wondering if it wouldn't be an honour to burn them all to the ground, to rid himself of their bickering rubbish! "How long shall we argue? Didn't we all gather here, leaving our respective homes, to make a truce? Why can't we make a truce and get going?"

"You do have a point, dragon," the queen fae said, dragging her breathy voice, sitting poised on the wooden seat specially carved for her, as she was the friend of the high priestess. "I want us to get to the root of the matter and reach an agreement, but I'm suddenly consumed by an epiphany"-the dwarf still standing on the table rolled his eyes-"Why can't the Alpha King answer her allegations? Why has he been so silent since he came here?"

The silence that had welcomed the meeting stretched again, this time shorter and less relaxing. Almost everyone was standing, on alert, eyes darting round: from the Alpha King to the Fae queen to the high priestess.

Was this the truce they'd come to renew? Why were the fae and witches suddenly making eye contact?

It began as a whisper, so soft he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't so quiet, but the Alpha King felt it clearly when the first slice of magic hit him straight, piercing like an arrow. He'd barely spoken all through the evening so he'd had ample time to get in tune with his surroundings, to feel the ground, weighing the atmosphere like the fur that came out on his body at night when the moon came out to play.

When he looked up, the fae queen was looking right at him, lips moving, left palm rolling something underneath them-her crystal magic ball. His men were too far for him to signal to them. But, it struck him then, like lightning as his last bits of restraints rose to the surface: He had to leave, he had to fight, but the sickness was enough to pull him into whatever trance she'd prepared.

The witch high priestess stood up then and built on what the fae queen had said, "Alpha King, you've barely spoken a word. Are we so common to you? Has your arse kissed that chair far more than necessary? You. Will. Be. Gone!" She raised her fist in the air. The faerie queen did the same, not removing her hold on the Alpha King. Out from the high priestess lips came a chant.

And everywhere turned to real chaos, far more than anyone else had calculated.

The dragon king had calculated well enough, though. At least to seventy-percent accuracy. This meeting had an ulterior motive from the start. And he wasn't going to do anything about it, instead, he let his wings loose from behind him and flew away with his men on guard at the entrance.

That was when Elder Matthew saw it: the full-blown chaos in the hall. He'd been laughing and trading stories with his fellow werewolves who'd accompanied the alpha King, and also listening to the tales of the elfs who'd accompanied their king when the dragon king flew by, his men following suit. He turned. And panicked. What he saw didn't look good.

How hadn't he looked in since?

Signalling the three other werewolves he'd come with, he marched towards the entrance of the hall, praying that the Alpha King's sickness wasn't severe enough for the other supernaturals to take advantage of him and depose him, or worse, kill him in the midst of the chaos. The entrance of the hall had already been barricaded with magic: witch and fae combined. It was so strong that it threw him and the other three werewolves back with so much force, their backs hit hard on the ground. One of them hit the columns so hard, he couldn't stand.

The other two went round, trying to see if there was an opening in the magic, a way to breach it and enter in. There was none.

By the time the barrier was weakened by the help of the Vampires who'd come with Vampire Keat, it was too late. The werewolves entered in to see their alpha King lying on the cold ground without breath. His hands were so cold, it was haunting. The other creatures were nursing their wounds from the battle.

He turned to the high priestess in rage. "What have you done?"

She sneered. "I've taken what your kind has deprived my kind for centuries."

Vampire Keat who'd crawled under the table wanted to pinch the overzealous werewolf by the shin. What was he trying to do challenging the high priestess? Was he trying to get killed like his alpha?

"I'm now the Queen. The Queen!" She laughed, pulled the crown from atop the dead Alpha King's head and was about to wear it when the Elder Matthew struck.

Give up, fool, Vampire Keat jeered. Only in his head. He wasn't risking coming out. He'd had one too many face offs with powerful witches in his centuries of thriving on Earth, he wasn't ready to face one who'd already killed the leader of the conclave.

There was a loud bang as the self-proclaimed Queen threw Elder Mathew out the hall like a piece of wood. He blanked out.

When he awakened, there was too much blood for Elder Matthew to comprehend. His first instinct was to run. And he ran. Through the woods, swishing past trees and stumps. He left trails of his blood. He couldn't tell if the witches were following him, all he knew was that he had to run.

And run, he did. On and on and on. One last tribute to his Alpha.

"Silly witches! A coven meeting out here in the open." Neil scoffed.

It was some sort of ceremony. The coven of witches had been chanting and singing for minutes.

Blake and the pack had just arrived and the witches seemed to be deep in the ceremony.

They had been tracking this coven for weeks. Their trail always ran cold after a couple of days. This traveling coven had come to Norway specifically to hold this ceremony. It seemed so important to them that they'd forgotten to mask their trail from the pursuing werewolves.

"What are we waiting for?" Neil whispered. Shoving his shoulder into Blake's side to nudge him as he spoke.

Blake turned to him. A cold warning stare. "We wait for the signal."

Neil got the message and kept quiet. He understood. It was the most practical thing to do.

Witches would naturally plant traps, hexes and protection spells around their meeting places. The wolves had to check it out before any attack.

Blake was as impatient as Neil was to get his hands on them. Maybe even more.

He remembered only too well. The way the last wolf returned from the meeting of the conclave wounded, bleeding and barely alive. This wolf had escaped what resulted in the death of his father and a handful of werewolves.

The witches, led by Ava - had taken the head seat at the conclave, killing his Father in the coup. These witches had killed his Father and now he would get his revenge.

Eight years ago, they had done this. And since then, Blake had not stopped trying to avenge his Father. It was his duty as the Alpha and this was their chance.

The air was chillier here in Norway. Blake could feel his wolf senses heightening from the sheer desire to avenge his father.

The smell of trees just below the hills filled his nostrils, the smell of the fire around which the witches danced made his nose tingle.

That was the thing about being werewolf. You could feel it all.

Every gust of wind carried the smell of the environment along with the emotions of the creatures around.

Werewolves could smell fear, doubt, uncertainty, anger. They could tell when something was off, just by the smell of it or the hair rising on their backs.

They could see up to a hundred feet ahead in the dark and they were super fast.

The Werewolves liked to think they were faster than the Vampires. But were they?

Blake had met quite a number of vampires in his lifetime. They were fast. Smart. They had heightened senses like the werewolf and they lived a ridiculously long life. The story goes that they are immortal. Blake didn't believe that.

A loud Werewolf howl erupted from the other side of the hill, interrupting his thoughts. It was the signal!

"Ahoooooo!"

That was their signal. It meant there were no hexes guarding the ceremony.

The wolves jumped in.

This part never got old for Blake.

The chase. Transforming as they ran into their wolfman form.

The Witches below the hills realizing quite late that they were about to get the battle of their lives stopped their chanting. The twenty of them began to pull spells from their arsenal.

It was dark. The wolves approached from the hills above. They couldn't see further than the light that their fire had provided.

"Ovel Ignis!" One of the witches cried, launching a large ball of flame towards the approaching wolves.

The ball of fire had missed but it lit up their position. Showing the witches the full extent of the assault. Thirty werewolves in full attack.

'We can't take them!' One yelled.

That's right, witch, Blake snarled in thought.

However, it seemed the witches didn't listen to her. They held it together.

The twenty of them hauled spells at the wolves.

The first wave hit and the wolves fully engaged the witches in close combat.

There was no way they could win. The wolves began to tear their guard down. The first witch soon fell to the claws of two werewolves.

The Witches were however formidable opponents. They held on for as long as they could.

Witches hauling balls of fire and chanting spells. For each one wolf hit, one other wolf made an attack.

It was thirty to twenty. They couldn't win even if they wanted to.

One witch floated above the air. In a ball of white light. Her hair flowing in the wind. She hadn't cast a spell yet. She'd just been chanting and muttering.

Blake knew she would do something big and disastrous if she wasn't stopped. He pranced around, watching the battle in full wolf; a large brown beast with thick fire and large red eyes.

Blake snarled and leapt off of the rock he had been standing on. He leapt towards the levitating witch and was deflected by the ball of light.

The huge brown wolf fell to the ground and picked himself up. Went around in circles, looking for an opening and just before he could attack again-the witch screamed with all time breath in her lungs.

The ball of light around grew and burst into greater white light that spread out through all the woods.

And at that moment, it happened.

As the light went through the woods, touching the werewolves, the werewolves lost their transformation for a few seconds. Quickly shifting from wolf to normal human.

Blake stood terrified.

He couldn't understand it.

How he'd gone from a big bad wolf to looking like a twenty-eight-year-old human Caucasian male.

And in that moment, the witches had gotten the window that they needed.

Huge balls of electricity then followed the ball of light that had just gone through.

Blake and the pack fell to their knees in unison with a thousand volts of electricity running through them.

The same levitating witch, still hanging in the air yelled another spell:

"Main agris, butleg votun."

And immediately, weapons materialized from thin air for the entire coven of witches.

They fought without mercy or fear for their own lives. They fought like men and women who had lost their hearts.

It seemed the witch that was hanging in the air had just turned the tide of the battle.

Swords, spears, blood, cries of battle and cries of pain.

Blake fought his way towards Neil. He couldn't let him get to the witch first, he couldn't let it happen.

The witches had injured a number of wolves. The battle was beyond fierce now. Each sword, replied by two other wolves.

Blake tried to run towards Neil the moment he found him. Few feet away, Blake was blocked by witches. They wasted no time as they struck him immediately, swords ripping into his shoulder. He hadn't seen them coming. His shoulder bled profusely. He didn't feel the pain yet.

He replied, grabbing the first witch by the head and tearing her to pieces.

He summoned all the energy that he could, pulled, swung out his claws at any approaching witch with all his might and sent them flying backwards.

Blake ran toward the fallen witches. The first got Blake's claw in his belly.

The bleeding from Blake's shoulder had made him throw all reason away. Now he struck to kill.

He tried to stop himself from losing focus. Realizing that he needed to bring down the levitating witch.

All he could see was the blood. It was driving him mad. He marked them, all the ones in black and he slashed and cut. Blood. Splashes of blood.

The woods were ablaze, blue and red flames crawling up the trees. Flames lit the ship up, burning corpses and screaming witches or wolves on fire. It was a massacre.

The members from the wolf pack battled the witches fiercely, trees were torn down, blood and fire everywhere.

Blake looked around, slightly weak in the shoulder that had been stabbed.

Would they die here?

Then he remembered. These witches killed the Alpha. His Father.

Both sides flew at each other's necks, the wolves leaping high, accomplishing incredible leaping feats and taking out more witches as they mauled them to death.

Blake saw Neil, in his full werewolf form, pick an axe and hack down his assailant.

Blake looked around. Surveying the field of battle,

Meredith, Neil's sister, was in deadlock combat with a witch; her fur flying in the wind as she battled the witch, a sword sticking out of her back.

Meredith lept toward her assailant, her silver mane reflecting the flame around them. The witch grabbed her and threw her to the ground. Meredith landed hard on her side. The sword in her back cut deeper as she coughed up blood.

She stood up with difficulty.

The witch she was in battle with laughed and spoke: "You're making me do this." And she chanted a spell, blue flames appeared around her as she increased the chant and pointed to the wolf, the flames followed her finger's direction and came flying towards Meredith.

Blake leapt towards Meredith, pushing her out of the approaching flames path and it fell on a nearby tree.

Meredith snarled. Now she was pissed.

Before the witch could cast another spell, Meredith had sunk her teeth into the witches shoulder-ripping off her entire arm from her body.

Blake watched the levitating witch intently. She seemed to be the strength of the coven. But she wasn't the witch Blake had been searching for. She wasn't Ava. But she would have to suffice.

The big brown werewolf snarled. His eyes, red as ever. His jaw dripped with blood.

He took a great leap at the witch, flying towards her faster than she could react in such a short time, hitting her into a nearby tree, breaking the tree in half.

The night had been fast throughout the battle and now it looked like it was dawn.

The witch looked above her and cried. "The portal! The porta..."

Blake's teeth had sunk into her torso. Stopping her words half way as he ripped out her lungs. The levitating witch was dead.

That was when the witches realized they were in for it. The swords and weapons that had materialized from nowhere suddenly disappeared into nothingness. The witch that conjured them had just been torn in half.

Witches and wizards, as if on cue, began to run into the woods.

Blake howled and the entire pack of wolves gave them a fierce chase.

The witches and wizards were now in full flight. The wolves hot on their tail, cutting them down one by one.

As the chase continued; one by one, the wolves would maul down a witch fleeing.

Until there were only six witches left.

One of the witches behind suddenly stopped running.

"Open the portal!" She yelled to the others. "I'll cover."

Another warlock stopped to try and convince her to keep running.

"Kivella! Don't do this! We can make it together. Come," he said.

"We can't, Elvis. Go! Go, Elvis!"

She turned around to face the approaching werewolves. She picked up the large stick that had fallen from a broken tree, whispered a few words in the elder language and spat up some blood.

Blake had heard her words and knew only a few witches could cast a spell in the elder language. He needed to interrogate her.

The wolves approached her and stopped. Snarling with bloody jaws, they had spread out to cover this lone witch.

Blake said, "You don't have to do this. We're better than this."

She mocked. "No, you're not. You're a twisted lot, you wereworld are."

Her accent sounded British.

Her eyes held no remorse. No anger for fallen friends or coven members who had just left her.

She threw the broken piece of tree to the ground and new trees began to grow behind her. Completely blocking her off from the other fleeing witches.

From between the trees, Blake's pack could see the fleeing witches go through a portal far away and disappear.

They had lost the remaining five.

Neil leapt at her. Catching her arm in his fierce jaw and ripping it clean off.

The witch yelled.

"Stop!" Blake commanded.

Neil turned to see Blake standing in human form, walking towards the witch.

"If you kill her, she can't give us anything," he said.

And one by one, each wolf transformed into a human.

Blake walked to the bleeding witch.

"Where is your High Priestess?" He asked. Picking the witch by the throat and holding her few feet above the ground.

The witch smiled and said: "Go to hell."

Blake tightened his grip on her neck. She gasped for air.

"Where is Ava!" He yelled.

And at that moment, the witches' eyes began to glow.

"Hear hear!" She began... "This shall be the death of the wolves..." "A hunter, a wolf, an alpha dead, a two-faced mate, blood broken and a duel that brought hate."

Blake knew what this was. Many witches would prophecy in their dying moments.

He couldn't care less.

"Where is Ava!" Blake yelled.

She continued: "This shall be the death of the wolves. A hidden hunter amidst them, a wolf, an alpha dead, blood broken by a duel."

"What duel?" Blake said impatiently, letting the witch drop. She stood on her own feet. Still in a trance. She went again. Each time, the words have a new detail.

"This shall be the death of the wolves, a hidden hunter amidst them, one of their kind, a hunter yet not of the normal, a wolf, an alpha long dead, a duel that broke..."

The prophecy was stopped abruptly. Neil had leapt over to her in his wolf form and taken her head off with a single bite.

Her headless body fell to the ground.

The witch was dead.

BLAKE:

The woods went silent at dawn. The fierce battle of the night had left it that way. Shafts of daylight peaked out from the scanty frosty leaves of the trove of burnt beech trees spread across this wide forest. It was still winter, and the weather was still at meat locker standard.

The city's preserve didn't allow for trespassing, yet somewhere deep inside it, Blake and his pack roamed the land. There were about thirty werewolves on sight, and they had just avenged his father's death.

Blake's mind spun around the memories of the previous clash. It was a battle they had won down to the last drops of their sweat and blood. Snow covered the ground. Nature looked lazy as he sat shirtless against a tree. The cold didn't affect him. He could feel his body healing from last night's terror tour.

The surrounding air still smelled like war. The scent of dry air married with the acridness of fire and brimstone. He was staring far off through the cluster of unending trees and his eyes darkened in thought. All he could hear in repeat was the last thing the witch had said as she breathed her last.

His father had taught him to never trust the words of witches, no matter who they were.

But he pictured the woman speaking again. The way her eyes had glowed grey like clouds brewing a storm. The fiery crystal ball she had tried forming between her palms to let him glimpse the future. He didn't think the bloodshed he had seen in the space of that second was a lie. He was wary of everything.

Blake knew all along that they didn't roam just any ordinary forest. From the start, they were treading on cursed ground. A landmark under the guide of ancient spells and black magic. The only thing he had failed to realise was that when they ended the circle of witches, they were unleashing the forest.

Even though about five had fled, it was still blood for blood.

Evil trapped Blake and his pack inside their minds right after. It was like being dunked in a pool of wolf's bane. The forest suppressed their powers. It made them weak and paralysed, like they were without life. It was a rollercoaster ride of hallucinations. A dangerous encounter with spirits from the underworld. Last night, after the war with the witches, Blake could remember that trees walked, and the ground had spoken to him. He recalled bleeding from all the holes in his face...

Till it stopped. The moon goddess, their protector, had kept them safe. Light had come now. The evil that tormented them was no more, but the prophecy had lingered in his mind like an echo.

"You can't let them sense your fear. You're alpha, Blake. It's your duty to guide and keep us safe."

A hand gripped his shoulder after the voice came. Blake looked up to see Neil standing before him.

A ray of light had stabbed him in the eye, and he averted his gaze.

It took a minute for Blake to gather his thoughts and rise. He knew it was high time they cleared out from the forest. Meddling humans would discover the bodies of their victims soon and before long, hunters would catch wind of their presence. They needed to cover their tracks. They had to run as far away from there before the next night. Blake didn't think the forest would be any nicer this time.

Defined pathways pierced through every angle of the forest. Even though snow had buried most, Blake and his pack could still navigate their way back using their superhuman senses.

They moved at a set pace. They weren't running because they had suspected that eyes could be anywhere, watching. It was daytime. Blake was in the lead. He was also the first to catch the scent.

Blake had drawn North. It ran deeper where he knew their chances of being noticed grew slim. They were heading to Symre at present. It was the magical veil they had crossed to find here. On the globe, witches were everywhere, and they were fond of leaving portals in their wake. The witches had used a portal to flee. His pack knew that. They had come to Symre, the portal, after hunting down the witches that murdered his father.

He gave a signal, and all thirty became alarmed. He was certain that they heard it, too. The voices rising from afar.

Neil came up behind him. "I smell hunters. They're near."

Blake's beta was by his side immediately. He had heard what Neil had just said. He had smelled them too, they all did.

"I say we fight. I can sense four humans alone. We can take them."

"We can, but a move like that would be reckless." Neil faced the beta. "I have fought enough for one day. I say we don't."

Ian bantered with him, while the entire time, Blake soaked himself in thought. They had skipped something, something very important. It wasn't just four humans in the forest with them at current. He could also sense a wolf nearby.

"Listen." Blake growled, and his command brought their attention back.

They heard, just as he had wanted.

The hunters were talking in hushed tones. It sounded like they had been rejoicing over a catch. He couldn't see them, but Blake had drawn in and listened in on their words more closely.

"What are they saying?" Ian asked.

"It's useless. We won't understand any of it." Another wolf had chipped in. His voice was deeper than the ocean.

"So, no one has any idea?"

Neil folded his arms. "It's Norwegian, Ian. We are very far from home."

Blake disconnected and advanced closer. He stood a few feet from his pack, staring towards the sound in silence. There was a feeling growing inside of him, but he couldn't understand it.

"I have heard rumours. They're merciless," Meredith said. She had shifted under control and revealed her claws alone, playing with them.

"Great. Norwegian hunters who are cold-blooded killers. Could this get any better?" Ian said, smirking.

Blake's pack surrounded themselves in a clump. Wolves of different shapes and sizes, and with unique abilities. They knew they had to plan and act fast.

But Ian still insisted. "The portal is that way. We must go right through. Show them who's boss."

"How can we tell there's no trap ahead?"

"Lie low. I suggest we wait for them to clear out."

"And if they decide to wait until nightfall to do that?"

The wolf, with an incredibly deep voice, stared at Blake's back and said, "The former Alpha would have known what to do."

They all grew silent after that. Blake had heard him, clear and loud. The wolf's intention had been just that; to strike a spear straight at the heart where it would hurt the most. Blake wanted nothing else but to be a better leader for his pack. His new title came with a lot of responsibilities, but he was still learning the ropes.

"Lucien!" Neil glared at the wolf that dared challenge their alpha. He was bigger than Blake's first cousin, but ranks decided power in their world.

Blake didn't give ear to it, though. He turned and walked back. "The hunters have one of us. It's a female."

As the rest of them searched deeper into their senses, Lucien said, "We can't just accept any stranger into our pack."

Blake growled. "If she's a wolf, she is one of us."

His eyes had glowed red and powerful, and the wolf cowered under his voice like a slave.

He was Alpha Blake, their leader.

There was a force drawing him to whomever it was the hunters held captive. It gripped him like desire, and he couldn't control it. He needed to find out the captured wolf's identity.

"This isn't war," he said. "No casualties, and we disappear as planned. I'll be taking only a few with me."

Neil stepped forward at once. The misty morning gathered breeze. Another pelt of snow would fall soon. Blake took in his pack. They idled around as volunteers found their courage.

Meredith had stepped out at the same time Ian did. Five others joined, but Lucien stayed, wearing a dark look. They were ready.

Blake took the lead. He cracked his neck to the side and shifted. His ears grew longer. Fangs protruded in his mouth as his face turned beastly. The eight of them ran towards the sounds ahead faster than the wind.

IVY:

She felt for the rails of the iron cage that trapped her. She was glaring at the people that did this to her at present. Gritting her teeth, she glowered and gripped it tighter with both palms.

"Let me out, you scumbags!" she said, but they laughed in her face, like she was stupid.

They had understood her words clearly, even though they spoke a distinct language from hers.

Her captors lifted the sizeable cage into the back of a red pickup truck without care, and she had landed on her butt after the drop. Her clothes were torn and soiled with dirt. The temperature of the morning had lowered unbelievably. She couldn't stand the cold. Ivy banged against the cage, screaming for them to let her go.

Their roaring laughs came again, and she seethed, spitting in one of their faces.

The unlucky captor had lurched to land a hit on her when it happened.

It was rushed, the events of the next second. Something flashed by and took out the first man far behind. The others disappeared the same way before they could realise what was going on.

The last man standing, also the one in line for her cage, stopped halfway as he noticed what had occurred. His men were missing. He was all alone in the dangerous forest.

Ivy smiled when she saw him quiver.

He reached for his crossbow and searched around the space with wide, frantic eyes. She knew the arrows he had on him were laced with wolf's bane and black magic. She also knew what was out there, but all she could focus on were the keys dangling from his neck.

Ivy watched a werewolf appear out of nowhere and grab the man by the scruff of his neck. She sighted seven more of them afterwards. The hunters were no longer in sight. It didn't shock her to see that they weren't aiming to kill off her captors.

The wolf with glowing red eyes ripped the bunch of keys from the man's neck and snapped it to paralyse him but not end him.

The world around her stopped in that minute.

She had glued her eyes to the wolf the entire time as he approached the truck and turned the right key into the lock.

Ivy couldn't understand the feeling that soared in her chest. She couldn't take her eyes off the man in front of her. He wasn't anything like she had imagined.

The wind raised his messy curls, and she felt an urge to run her hand through it. The spell around the cage suppressed the wolf in him, and his red eyes slipped into the most beautiful shade of brown. He was human again. The sight of him warmed her insides. She was fatally dumbstruck.

Her saviour extended his hand to her. His eyes pierced her with an intensity she couldn't fathom.

"You're safe now," he had said.