Page 112 of Venomous Throne

Huddling in my flannel, I forced my mind to stay alert. If I nodded off, I would probably fall from the tree and break a bone. Then the animals prowling through the woods would find their supper. I did math problems to keep my brain awake. I sang poems and chanted parts of the church service, because they were the only things I could remember.

It worked.

For a time.

My eyes began to droop. I swayed forward, catching myself on the limb. Bark scraped my face.

Sitting back with a low hiss, I slapped myself hard across the cheek. That woke me up.

“Just a little longer until dawn,” I lied to myself.

As if on cue, rustling broke out.

My heart stopped. The noise grew closer, more deliberate. Snuffling and broken pants heralded the animal. Animals.Plural. They glided through the shadows. I caught the movement and picked out three distinct shapes. They moved like liquid night.

Wolves.

The first one stepped into a patch of moonlight, its silver-grey coat gleaming. Yellow eyes scanned the forest floor, intelligent and calculating. Two more followed, one coal black and one with russet undertones. They moved with a terrible grace, powerful muscles rippling beneath thick fur.

I pressed myself against the trunk, trying to become one with the bark. A breath caught in my throat. These weren’t the cartoonish wolves of fairytales; these were apex predators, designed by nature to hunt and kill.

The largest one, the silver-grey, lifted its muzzle and sniffed the air. I froze. Could they smell fear? Could they smell me? I was fairly certain they didn’t climb trees.

But who knew for sure?

“Please go away,” I whispered.

The wolf’s ears twitched at my whisper. Its head turned, those amber eyes locking directly with mine. I hadn’t been quiet enough.

Crap.

Time stretched between us like taffy. The wolf didn’t move, didn’t blink, just stared. I couldn’t look away from those eyes—ancient, knowing eyes that seemed to see straight through my pretense of courage.

It had been difficult to stay awake before, but now it was impossible to close my eyes. A small mercy.

The other wolves circled beneath my tree, their nails clicking softly against exposed roots and fallen branches. They made no aggressive moves, simply pacing with deliberate steps, waiting.

Waiting for me to fail.

Minutes passed. Or was it hours? My muscles cramped from holding so still, but I dared not shift position. The silver wolf settled onto its haunches, head tilted upward, watching me with unnerving patience. Its companions continued their silent patrol around the base of my tree.

A terrible understanding dawned on me. They weren’t going to leave.

The realization hit me like a physical blow. My chest tightened, and my vision blurred as hot tears welled up. I tried to blink them back, but they spilled over anyway, tracking silently down my dirty cheeks. One drop fell, then another, pattering on the leaves below.

The silver wolf’s ears perked up at the sound. It tilted its head, curious now rather than menacing, as if my grief was something novel and interesting. I couldn’t stop. All the fear, exhaustion, and hopelessness I’d been holding back crashed through my defenses. My shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“I’m so stupid,” I whispered through hitching breaths. “I should never have come out here.”

What business did a woman like me have walking through the woods?

The perfect metaphor for my life.

An inner voice possessed my lips. “You’re a leader.”

The russet wolf stopped its circling to look up, perhaps drawn by the sound of my broken voice. Its companion, the black one, growled low.

I locked eyes with the silver one. “How do I do this? How do I make them hear my voice?”