Don't Move
Jack moved India slowly behind him, whispering, “Don’t move.”
Drool fell silently to the ground as the wolf took another step towards them.
India peered over Jack’s shoulder in time to see the wolf peel back its lips revealing ghost white fangs. It was panting; ragged short breaths passing out of it’s open maw. The wolf’s whole body to jerk and twitch ever few breaths. It looked like it had just walked out of someone’s nightmare.
The wolf let out a growl as it continued to stare at them with its mad eyes.
Jack had his hunting knife in his left hand, in his right was a fist-sized rock, which, without looking, he handed back to India. He muttered, “Here, just incas-“
The wolf attacked.
Jack attempted to lift the knife just as he was laid low by the beast, but it was too quick. The knife flew through the air landing well out of Jack’s reach.
He would have felt the wolf’s hot, fowl breaths as they rapidly passed over his neck and face, if it weren’t for the pain the exploded through his senses. His left arm was deep in the wolf’s mouth and it was being torn apart.
In the distance Jack heard someone shouting. After the attack he would realize that the screams that ripped through the calm evening were his own. He had vague memories of striking the wolf with his right hand and attempting to kick up at it with his legs, both of which had little effect.
He only had one clear memory of the attack:
India had thrown the rock, it glanced off the wolf’s brow, it only seemed to have was increasing the animal’s ferocity.
A cold, raw feeling was spreading across the left side of his body while the fangs tore into his flesh, a wildfire of pain swept over Jack’s mind.
The wolf only let go for a moment, possibly to readjust and tear deeper into Jack’s arm, possibly to turn it’s attention to his waiting throat. It did neither. A dark shape slammed into the wolf’s side.
Jack could see nothing, his eyes closed in agony. A sharp yelp escaped into the ever darker forest.
Still prone Jack used every ounce of will power to crack open an eye.
India came into focus as she scrambled away from the wolf, stopping in a crouch next to Jack. The moon slowly rose in the sky illuminating the hilt of the knife where it protruded from the wolf’s side.
The wolf lay there, still alive for the moment, it’s ragged breathing finally slowing.
India had already begun to wrap her sweater around the tattered remains of Jack's arm when his consciousness began to slide away. He looked up at her, as she became blurry and then gradually faded to black.