CHAPTER 3

Drake let out a howl and then jumped at them, his body exploding outward and changing rapidly as he did. The elongation of his nose and mouth got more pronounced, fangs sprouting out. Deadly, flesh-rending fangs that looked like they could strip an arm of its meat in less than a minute. Coarse, dark-gray fur sprouted out of almost every part of him. His form lengthened and his legs bent backward at the knee as his feet grew into claw-tipped, wolf-like paws. When he landed and straightened to his full height, Lola stared at a humanoid, wolfish creature over eight feet in height. Its yellow-amber eyes stared down at her and its muzzle rippled as it growled. The beast was terrifying but there was a lankiness to its frame, Lola saw. Don’t get her wrong. It could still be able to rip her arms off her body without trouble, but despite that, Drake’s werewolf form still looked almost too thin. Sickly, even. “Stay back,” Russel told her, pushing her behind him. “Do not do anything but stand there. Running away is useless now. They’ll track you down and rip you apart.” “They’re going to rip me apart regardless,” Lola shouted. “Not if I win,” Russel told her. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, smiling that irritating, devilish grin again. “What’s the matter? No faith in me?” “What do you mean no faith?” she screamed back. “I don’t even know you. We just met.” “I find your lack of trust in me hurtful,” he said in a teasing tone. Before Lola could offer a comeback to that, he started to shift as well. He went through almost the exact same transformation Drake had just gone through with some clear differences. The first was that Russel’s fur wasn’t gray. His was a mixture of sandy brown, umber, and white. Where Drake was thin and sickly, Russel was clearly stockier and packed with heavier slabs of muscle. The claws at the ends of his fingers were thicker too. Deadlier. And when he stood to his full height, he had at least three or four inches on Drake. Out of the two of them, it was clear Russel was stronger, faster, and better in almost every way. The two came together in a clash of claws, gnashing teeth, and snarls. Drake’s other werewolves stayed back but Lola kept her eyes on them, just in case. She didn’t trust them not to interfere and wanted to be ready if they did. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do to stop them if they tried but she searched the ground and found an arsenal of good-sized rocks to throw. It wouldn’t kill them but at least she’d be able to make them work for their kill a little bit before they tore her to shreds, if they did end up deciding to try that was. Fortunately for her, they didn’t. Instead, they just lounged against boulders, trees, or sat in the grass, watching with rapt attention the duel between the two werewolves. Lola couldn’t help but watch herself and grew excited when she saw how much trouble Drake was having against Russel. Several deep gashes had opened up on his body, pouring torrents of blood before sluggishly closing themselves up. One arm hung uselessly from its socket and one of Drake’s legs had been cut so deeply it barely held together. Russel took a few hits, mostly glancing blows because Drake had a hard time getting close enough to do any actual damage. The cuts Russel sustained closed up almost almost as soon as they were made. He barely had any blood staining his fur either. Between the two, the matchup almost seemed unfair. “Yield,” Russel growled after fending off another of Drake’s lame attempts at an attack. Russel dodged it easily and then snaked one arm forward, catching the smaller werewolf by the throat and hoisting him off the ground without any difficulty. Drake’s eyes flashed brightly with anger. He struggled against Russel, clawing at his arm, but it didn’t do him any good at all. Russel didn’t let go and only tightened his grip. “Yield!” he shouted, louder and so violently it came out as a deafening roar. “So help me, Drake, I will send you back to your father in pieces if you do not stop this.” Again, he tightened his grip and, this time, Drake’s eyes widened in sudden terror as all of his air got cut off. There was an ugly moment where the scrawnier werewolf slapped at the arm holding him in a frantic, last-ditch effort to free himself, before finally giving in. He gave a jerky, spastic nod. “I…,” he gasped. “Y-yiel…y-yield.” Russel kept him held up in the air for a few more seconds, trying to judge Drake’s seriousness. Yielding a match between two werewolves only to immediately renege and attack again was considered a crime. Ordinarily, Russel wouldn’t have to worry about that but ordinarily, he wouldn’t be deep in the human kingdom fighting a rogue werewolf raiding party all by himself. Also, Drake was absolutely the type to take advantage of that knowledge. “Swear it,” Russel snarled. “Swear you yield and will depart this place immediately.” Drake couldn’t talk anymore but he nodded his head yes vigorously. His eyes still spewed hatred at Russel but he knew he was beat. Russel started to shift back into his human form and as he did, he let go of Drake. The scrawny wolf fell to the ground, shifting back into his human form too. Drake had already been wearing torn, ripped-open clothing but now Russel’s was in a similar state. “Go back home, Drake,” Russel said. He stood confidently, arms crossed over a well-muscled chest Lola couldn’t help but notice. “The humans aren’t going to like what you’ve done here. Your father will most certainly need to prepare for some kind of retaliation. Better run along now and beg his forgiveness.” Drake didn’t say anything to him, he just glared at Russel with murderous rage. The other wolves followed without a fight. Lola came to stand next to him but didn’t talk. “You think they’ll try to circle back?” Lola asked. “If he was smart, no,” Russel answered, still watching the retreating wolves. “But Drake isn’t what I would call smart. Or anything close to smart. He is ruled by the wolf and the wolf’s instincts. It makes for a vicious little twit.” He laughed a little at that and then turned to her, doing a small, gentlemanly bow before taking one of her hands and putting it gently to his lips. “And now formal introductions are in order, I believe.” He stood back up and tipped an imaginary hat. “My name is Russel Polver, son of Carter Polver, King of the majestic and proud Oclan Werewolves, fifth in line for the throne. It is quite the pleasure, Ms…?” He waited for her to supply her name. “Uh..,” she said, hesitating slightly at the absurdity of his introduction. “Lola here. Lola Tarnvol…d-daughter…” She couldn’t get the rest of what she wanted to say out. Her throat wanted to close up just thinking about her parents. It brought the final moments of their lives to the forefront of her mind. Flames and fire everywhere. Drake and his wolves laughed as they burned. Her father screamed at her to run even as fire chewed at his flesh. She started crying again, unable to help it. Russel stared down at her, his heart hammering inside his chest now. It had nothing to do with fear. In fact, this feeling inside him was much worse. The feeling of hope dying. The hope that this girl he found under a tree, a girl he had become quite enamored with, would be anyone but her. Anyone but Lola Tarnvol. The woman he’d come all this way to kill.