The boys jumped, scattered. Fear chose for them. Each began to run towards their direction, boots slipping, arms flailing, breath tearing from their lungs. No orders. No plans. Just instinct ripping them apart.
Cole, Larry and Harry ran towards the east, branches slashing at their faces, roots reaching for their ankles. Max, Collins, Arron, Damien, and Frank ran toward the west, crashing through bushes, knocking each other aside in blind panic.
Sammy ran back to where they were coming from. With him was Henderson. Hector and Gabriel.
The rest of the boys ran forward, straight into the deeper dark, where the forest closed like a mouth. The beast stood for a heartbeat, head swiveling, ears twitching, tracking the chaos. It couldn't chase them all. Its gaze fixed on Larry, then snapped toward Harry, then lost him in the swarm of bodies and trees. A low snarl rumbled in its chest. It chose.
Therefore, it head west. The wolf burst forward, its limp vanishing as it ran, massive paws thundering the ground, shaking leaves loose from the branches. Its breath roared behind Max and his crew, close enough to feel on their backs.
They ran.
Minutes stretched like hours. Lungs burned. Throats tore. Sweat blinded them. The forest thickened, trunks crowding closer, light thinning until the world narrowed to dark greens and browns and the sound of their own terror.
At some point, they paused to breath. Just for a second. Just long enough for hope to flicker.
It didn't take a second before the Massive Werewolf appeared in front of them. It landed from above, crashing down through branches, blocking the path. Leaves exploded outward. The ground trembled under its weight. Its eyes locked onto them, bright and hungry.
Collins didn't think. He notched his arrow in desperation, and released it with so much accuracy his arms screamed from the force. The arrow cut clean through the air.
The wolf twisted its body mid-motion, impossibly fast. The arrow missed, slicing past fur and burying itself deep in a tree.
Then the wolf lunged at him.
It crossed the distance in a blur. Its head snapped sideways and struck Collins by his face. Fang scraped flesh. Blood sprayed. Collins was thrown aside like a broken doll, crashing into the undergrowth. His scream tore out of him, raw and high.
Frank stumbled, spun, raised his bow with shaking hands. He notched his arrow and struck. The arrow flew wild.
The wolf ignored it. It turned towards Cole. Its limp returned, exaggerated, mocking, as it limped on him. Then it sprang.
Its fangs sank into Cole's left leg. The sound was wet. The fang went deep and when it came out, it came with flesh.
Cole screamed. Blood gushed from his body, hot and unstoppable, soaking the ground, splattering the wolf's chest. His leg buckled. He collapsed, clawing at the dirt.
The rest of the boys didn't wait. They bolted. Feet thundered. Branches snapped. No one looked back.
The wolf released Cole and turned, eyes blazing, saliva dripping red. It chose the moving prey. It chased after them. They ran into a thicker forest.
The light died there. The air grew colder. The ground dipped and rose without warning. Then the trees bent once, unnaturally, branches arching inward.
A snap echoed. Something tightened around Max's ankle.
Ropes sprang from the shadows, rough and fast. They caught Max mid-stride and yanked him upward. His body flipped violently. His scream ripped out of him as he was dragged into the air.
"Max!" Damien screamed.
Max screamed back, his voice cracking, arms flailing, blood rushing to his head. "Help me!" He swung wildly, boots kicking empty space. The rope bit into his skin. Pain shot up his leg in blinding waves.
Damien skidded to a stop and spun. His chest heaved. His eyes locked on Max, hanging upside down, terror frozen on his face.
Damien drew his sword. Steel rang as it left the sheath. He lunged toward the rope, hands shaking, teeth clenched, raising the blade to strike.
"Forget it," Collins said, his voice heavy with fast breathing, blood pouring down his face as he staggered forward. "Before you achieve that purpose, the monster will be here."
A deep growl rolled through the forest. Close. Too close.
Damien froze. His grip tightened on the sword. His shoulders sagged. He looked at Max. Then at the trees behind them.
Then at the blood on Collins' face. Damien sighed, recognising the truth in what Collins has said. He put back his sword and turned to run.
"Please!" Max cried. "Do not abandon me!" His voice cracked on the last word. But the boys didn't listen. They bolted once again, leaving Max to his fate.
The boys continued to run. Another rope came and caught Collins. The rope drew him up. Collins screamed. "Please help me, cut down the rope." Aaron drew his sword but didn't cut down the rope. "Forgive me, Collins. The advice you gave minutes ago applies to you now."
Then turned and bolted. Both Aaron and Frank. Collins kept on screaming. "Do not leave me alone." But the boys were far gone. And for the first time, Collins began to cry like a baby.
The rope bit into his ribs as it lifted him higher. Bark scraped his back. Leaves slapped his face. He swung, helpless, boots kicking at nothing. The forest rushed past him in blurs of green and brown. His scream thinned into a hoarse rasp. He tried to grab the rope, but his hands slid, skin burning. Blood dotted the fibers.
The forest answered him with silence.
Then the silence cracked.
Branches bent. Heavy. Deliberate. Something large moved through the undergrowth, not rushing, not hiding. Collins' breath stuttered. He twisted, craning his neck. The rope creaked. The world tilted.