Amaya struggled to stay moving as she staggered across the forest, her breathing labored and desperate. After the brutal battle she had gone through back at the palace, her clothing was ripped and stuck to her like strands of cloth.
Her limbs ached from the innumerable bites and scratches she had received while fending off the pack assigned to murder her, and every stride was excruciating.
Every step she took forward served as a reminder of the deceit she had been forced to escape, and their betrayal hurt more than any wound,
"After her!" The trackers' voices echoed behind her, mingling with the growls of wolves as they gave chase.
Pushing over her boundaries, she pushed herself forward and, with one last burst of effort, transformed into a werewolf. She sprinted through the thick undergrowth, swerving between trees with an agility she thought would give her an advantage, her thin muscles tightening and her senses sharpening.
Her path was hardly illuminated by the moon, which was a thin sliver in the sky. The forest floor was covered in shadows, and as Amaya ran, her paws crunched gently against the leaf bed.
Her main goal was to leave his territory as far as possible, she had no idea where she was headed. Far from the palace where she had lived, far away from him.
The sounds of her pursuers, men and wolves, close and determined, made her ears quiver as she dared to look back. She could sense the blazing heat of their wrath in the night air and smell their torches burning.
She was struck by the idea that she was really alone, and the smell of smoke stuck to her senses. Her limbs were becoming heavier with each jump and bound as exhaustion approached.
She stumbled in the middle of her step, her legs losing their power, and she shuddered painfully before reverting to her human shape and falling to the forest floor.
She forced herself up with shaking arms, barely able to move, and staggered along, every step a tremendous struggle. As she fell again, unable to get back up, her vision swirled, the world around her hazy and far away.
With her heart pounding softly in her ears, darkness began to creep into her vision. Her last life was evaporating as she lay there with her cheek against the damp, cold ground.
The men and wolves' snarls, filled with a hatred she no longer had the strength to resist, became louder as they closed in.
However, a harsh, bone-chilling growl cut through the darkness as she was about to die. The sound, raw and forceful, was eerie, causing the trees surrounding her to tremble.
The growls of her attackers became whined, and the cries of men trailed off into silence. Weak and with blurred vision, she opened her eyes to find the torches falling to the ground while the men dispersed in all directions and the wolves turned with their tails in between their legs to escape as well.
Then she saw it, a huge, dark figure standing at the edge of the clearing, looking at her with eyes the color of molten gold that made her skin crawl. The thing loomed above her, its outline disappearing into the shadows save for the eerie, piercing glare of its eyes.
Her strength was gone, but she struggled to keep her eyes open to see what kind of beast had chased away her would-be murderers.
Before darkness completely engulfed her, the last thing she saw was the creature approaching her, every move deliberate and slow.
Amaya was laying on a bed of leaves and moss when she gradually regained consciousness, the earthy smell filling her nostrils. A steady throb took the place of the sharp pangs from her injuries, dulling the aches in her body.
She tried to remember what had happened and blinked to get rid of the confusion. Her eyes shifted to her new environment. She was in a cave, with a tiny hole high overhead letting gentle sunlight in.
The air was silent and cool, and the walls were smooth, with faint claw marks and old etchings. A surge of nausea struck her, and she pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing,
"You're awake"
The voice was deep and serene, and when Amaya looked back, she saw a man standing at the cave's entrance, his arms folded across his chest, staring at her with an expression that was impossible to decipher.
The dark nook in which he stood cast shadows over his face, but she could see the glimmer of his golden eyes, which were piercing and intense.
He took a step toward her so she could see him better.
He was tall, with dark hair that hung down over his shoulders, and exuded strength from his strong physique. He had an unearthly aura, a feeling of ancient strength that clung to him like a second skin.
"Drink this" he said as he handed her a cup of tea he had brewed, she sniffed the aroma and her face wrenched at its scent,
"It'll help clear your head" he said, noticing her distaste for the mixture.
She looked at the cup and back at him and reluctantly tasted it, smacking her lips, her face still squeezed. She placed the cup down before looking at him once again,
"Who are you?"
The man crouched down beside her, his gaze never leaving her face,
"I could ask you the same. You were running for your life, outnumbered and exhausted, and yet you kept going, why?"
Amaya's gaze fell to the ground, and she managed to whisper,
"The rogues. It all started with the rogues."