Night Runner

The Chase

They call me the night runner. I come at night, take what I need, and leave. I'm worse than a rouge. Its a lonely life. A sad life. But better than death.

Some times I think about just giving up. Stop running. Go to a water park or something. Let them catch me. But the I think about the cries of the children; the screams. I think of the burning houses with innocents trapped inside. I think of my family, murdered in cold blood. And I know I have to keep my pack alive through one person. Me.

I force my eyes open. Nearly dusk. I've over slept. I feel like Katniss Everdeen as I jump out of the tree. Some kind packs leave gifts of non-perishables, clothes and blankets along their borders. Along with that are books. Although, if I were Katniss, I would ditch bread boy, and go for Gale.
I mean, damn, that boy is all I need in a man.

Leaves crunch under me as I strip off and shove everything into a big bag.

Shifting into my dirty white wolf, I shuffle the bag onto my shoulders and take off, leaping and bounding through the trees.

The setting sun illuminate the sky in shades of pink and orange. I want to stop, to admire the sight, but the idea of the unforgiving pack on my tail keeps me and my wolf, Hazel, running. We have been running for four years, and will keep running. A cowardly thing, I know. But one under fed, perpetually tired wolf against a pack like that? I won't last three seconds.

I've had a few close encounters. Sleeping too long, staying too long in one place, not covering up a camp-fire and leaving prints on the ground. My favourite, a solider taking a piss saw me, and ran after me with his thing going everywhere.(if ya no wat i mean)

My pack, the winter wolves, were named that way because of our snowy coats, and the chilly land scape in which we-, no I lived in. The unfortunate thing is, white is a quite distinctive colour against the dark forest, so I had to smear my wolf with mud.

I heard wolves howling and snarling behind me, they had picked up my scent again. I pushed myself to go quicker.

Too late, I realize the trap. Wolves surround me, along with men holding shot guns, aimed at my heart. F*ck.

Happy Birthday to me!

I tread carefully up to one of the wolves. Small. Gangly. Young. I can see the fear in his eyes. Good. I try to waltz past him, but he leaps in action, jumping in front of me, yapping and squeaking. I roll my eyes and sigh.

Standing up on two feet, I push him to the ground. He whimpers and struggles, but I press on him harder. Bending down, I clamp my teeth into his throat, canines digging through fur and muscle. With a quick flick of my head, I rip his throat out, blood splattering onto me and the ground. Brutal, I know. You learn to do what you need to do.

Throughout all this time, the others have just watched my gruesome show. I turn around, wanting to see the shock in their eyes. They do not disappoint. I give them a bloody smile and shoot off.

I can hear the gun shot's ping then dull thump as the bullets bury themselves into the trees. The wolves aren't as quick to follow, but after a while they come, not as excited as before, but still following.

I can smell something delicious. Like mint and musk and pine and chocolate and cinnamon and... I realized I had stopped and was sniffing the air. Hazel was babbling on in my head, and she was usually pretty quiet, so I tuned in immediately.

Through the confusing tangle of words, all I can discern is 'mate' repeated over and over.

Sh*t.

No time for this. I try to take a step, but Rose rebels, trying to push my body in the other direction. Living with two minds in one body is hard. I stand there, muscles shaking, as we battle for control. She finally relents when I point out the people trying to kill us are only getting closer.

Rose takes over running as I try to figure out what to do. Go to him? No. His pack will kill me. I don't even know who 'he' is yet. Hide? No. No time. I'll be caught any way, by my mate or otherwise. Keep running was my only option.

~time skip coz author's lazy af~

They caught up with me eventually. I knew they would. I almost welcomed them when they started shaking my tree. It physically hurt to be away from him. I looked around. I couldn't jump to another tree.

"Oy! If you stop shaking the f*cking tree, maybe I can get down!" I yell.

The shaking ceases immediately. Leaping from the tree, I roll to avoid injury.

I lean on the tree, trying to seem casual, but on the inside, I'm dying.

I can smell my mate, so I call out to him "Oh mate, come out come out where ever you are!" followed by a high pitched annoying giggle.

Silence.

"No? Well I'll have to find you!"I sang

Skipping over to a soldier near me, I stand up on my tip toes, lean in really close, and whisper in a husky voice, "Are you my mate?"

Trailing my fingers down his chest, I grin when I can hear growling from within the group of men.

He needs more... convincing, I think.

Stepping past him, he visibly relaxes as I stand in front of another. This time, I slowly lick up his jaw line, and whisper in his ear, "are you my mate?"

He viscously shakes his head and I pout.

The next one shakes as I hover my lips over his, slowly going nearer. The growling is so loud I can feel it in my bones. And somewhere else.

Oh. Don't like this very much do you? He won't like this then.

"Well, if I don't have a mate, I guess I can have you?" I say, raising my voice.

As I position my elongated canines by his neck, the growling reaches and all time high, until a deep voice shouts "Enough!"

The crowd of bodies parts like the read sea as a heavily muscled man come striding towards me, shaking with anger. Sh*t.

I tense up, and he reaches out to me and slams me to his chest, so fast I think I might have whip lash. He's saying something, but I can't hear it over Rose's yipping.

"What?"

"MINE" he thunders.

I look around to see all the men kneeling. Sh*t. He's an alpha. Of the pack who killed my family. And I'm his mate.

---------------------

My mate is more boring than math.He is not funny, nor particularly nice. He just handed me to some guy and left.
Stupid mate. Imma cut a hoe if this goes on.

The guy carrying my was really buff. Even his cheeks were buff. I poked to make sure, and they were really hard. He wasn't happy about that though, as he stiffened, but still didn't look at me or talk to me.
This was the first person I was willing to talk to, in like, four years, and he was quieter than a statue. This will not do at all!

A devilish smirk crept onto my face, as an idea formed in my head. They guy carrying my totally ignored my presence, staring stoically ahead as we walked somewhere.

I really quickly lifted up my hands and latched onto his nipples through his shirt, then twisted, wrenching them sideways, the way no nipple, male or female, should be wrenched.

My action was noticed, as he yelled out and dropped me.

Thud.

This did not go according to plan.