Page 90 of Avidian
He adjusts his grip on me as we crest another incline, his hand firm but careful on my arm. The trees around us grow denser, their branches stretching over us like skeletal fingers, blocking out what little moonlight we have. The shadows deepen, and the air feels colder.
“We’re almost there. Let’s stop here for a minute. I want to take a look around before we get any closer,” Malachi murmurs. He sets his pack down and pulls out a pair of night vision goggles. He slips them on and scans the area.
I crouch beside him, watching as his gaze sweeps across the cabin and surrounding woods. His focus is intense, his body completely still as he assesses every detail. He lowers the goggles and looks at me.
“No movement. The cabin’s dark, and I don’t see anyone nearby. It’s safe to approach—for now.”
“Let’s get this over with,” I whisper, gripping the knife hidden in my pocket as Malachi stows the goggles.
We press on, the silence of the forest unnerving. The closer we get, the heavier the air feels, like the woods themselves are watching us.
As we crest another small rise, a howl rips through the silence. It’s long, mournful, and impossibly loud, echoing through the trees like a warning. My heart lurches, and I whip my head toward the sound, my breath hitching.
Malachi freezes, his hand shooting out to steady me. “Stay close,” he says.
Another howl joins the first, then another, and soon the forest is alive with the haunting sound. My stomach tightens as dark shapes moves through the forest ahead. My blood runs cold as the figures emerge into view, their eyes glowing faintly in the night.
“Wolves,” I whisper, but as they come closer, I realize these aren’t normal wolves.
They’re massive, easily twice the size of any wolf I’ve seen before. Their fur is patchy and uneven, matted with what looks like dried blood. Their limbs are unnaturally long, their muscles bulging in ways that seem wrong, twisted. And their eyes are too bright, too intelligent, like there’s something else behind them, something unnatural.
“Fuck,” Malachi mutters, stepping in front of me, his knife drawn. “They look like they’ve been experimented on.”
The closest wolf snarls, its lips peeling back to reveal jagged, oversized teeth. Saliva drips from its maw, steaming as it hits the snow.
I take a step back, my blade trembling in my grip, suddenly feeling too small. “What do we do?”
Malachi’s eyes flick between the wolves, assessing. “We don’t run. That’ll trigger their instincts. Stay behind me and?—”
Before he can finish, one of the wolves charges. Malachi moves faster than I can process, stepping into its path and slashing his knife across its shoulder. The creature howls in pain but doesn’t stop, lunging for him again.
Another wolf leaps from the side, and I barely manage to dodge, slashing wildly with my knife. The blade connects, cutting deep into its side, but it doesn’t slow the creature much.
Malachi kicks the first wolf back and pulls me closer to him. “Stay with me. Don’t let them separate us.”
The wolves close in, their movements unnervingly coordinated. They’re not attacking randomly—they’re hunting.
“Fuck this,” Malachi growls, pressing one of the tiny buttons on the front of the mask again and turning the knob.
Another wolf leaps, and he meets it in midair, driving his knife into its throat. Blood sprays across the snow as the wolf collapses with a yelp, but the others don’t hesitate.
One lunges at me, and I slash at its face, barely managing to keep it at bay. The sheer force of its weight knocks me back intothe snow, and I lose my footing. The beast is on top of me in an instant, its heavy, wet maw dripping dangerously close to my face. My blood runs cold as its rancid breath washes over me.
Without thinking, I shove my blade upward, driving it directly into the beast. It lets out a low growl, jumping off me and circling back to the trees, drops of blood staining the snow as it moves.
I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding as I look for Malachi.
He’s a whirlwind of motion, trying to fend off wolf after wolf, but there are too many.
“Malachi!” I shout as one of the wolves charges at him from behind.
He spins in time, his knife flashing as it finds its mark. The wolf collapses, but he’s breathing heavily now, his movements slowing.
The remaining wolves pause, perhaps wary now that they’ve met stiff resistance, their glowing eyes fixed on us as they regroup. My chest heaves, my hand shaking as I grip my knife tighter.
“We can’t stay here,” Malachi says, his voice steady despite the utter chaos. “We need to get to the cabin.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Let’s go.”
