Page 78 of Stray Omega

Crude projectiles were whizzing past Embla’s shoulders. Stones and primitive arrows.

The alphas were trying to kill them.

Embla and her furry companion were now almost at the water’s edge. The young omega hesitated, unsure what to do.

Her best friend growled and pounced on her.

There was a loud thunk sound, like a single beat on a taut drum. Then Embla and her best friend tumbled into the river, and the rushing water swept them away.

The dog had known they could not survive against the alphas, so she had pushed Embla into the water. Embla was both grateful and angry for that.

But most of all, she was afraid.

The little omega did not know how to swim, and the current of the water pulled her under. She bobbed up briefly. Just long enough to see the alphas halting at the riverbank far behind. They were giving up the chase.

The current sucked her beneath the surface again.

A strong jaw clamped on Embla’s arm and dragged her back toward the air. Her best friend. The omega’s fingers searched blindly, found wet fur, and held on for dear life. She choked and sputtered, but the dog was keeping her alive.

After what seemed like an eternity, the two friends came to ground on the silty beach at a bend in the river. The dog dragged Embla onto shore.

She would never care for water again after that.

Once the omega was safely on dry ground, the dog collapsed, and that’s when Embla saw the crooked wooden shaft protruding from the creature’s side.

Her best friend had been shot by a Farlander arrow.

That thunk sound Embla had heard before…

Her best friend had taken an arrow to save her life.

Though she was exhausted and shivering with fear, a jolt of adrenaline surged through Embla’s body, and she was at her best friend’s side in a flash. The air was filled with the musky odor of wet fur and the iron smell of blood, which was now spreading on the sand around them.

Embla whimpered, not knowing what to do. Should she pull the arrow out? If she did so, she might just hurt her friend even more.

The dog whined softly. Her dark eyes looked up at Embla with pure love and devotion. Her tail thumped weakly on the shore. Embla just worked her fingers into the creature’s wet fur and gave her one final scratch behind the ears.

Thank you…friend…

The eyes closed.

The tail stopped.

Her best friend was gone.

For a long, long time, Embla did not feel anything at all. She felt dead, like a stone. She kneeled over her dead friend, silent and still. The river rushed on beside her, cold and indifferent.

Finally, the tears came. Hot tears that burned her eyes and choked her throat until she could hardly breathe. The pain inside her chest was too much to bear. Embla couldn’t handle the sadness, so she used it as fuel for her rage. The flames of anger rose in her chest.

Embla sprang to her feet and screamed. She screamed until her lungs ached and her throat felt bloody and raw. She screamed at the sky and the trees and river. She screamed in the hopes that the Farlander alphas would hear her. They would track her down and kill her, and then she wouldn’t be alone anymore. Maybe she could even hurt one or two of the bastards in the process.

But the Farlanders never came.

No one did.

Embla screamed and screamed, all through the evening, through darkfall, and long into the night until finally her weary body gave out and she collapsed.

In the morning Embla woke curled up next to her best friend. Her throat was sore from screaming, but the rage was all gone. All that was left was a hollow, lonely feeling.

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