Survival of the Fittest

Jaxon

~Sniff. Sniff.~

~Food.~

~Food is good.~

~Food is survival.~

~Survival is good.~

~Sniff. Sniff.~

~It’s close.~

~Rabbit. Weak. Starved. Probably gamey.~

~But it is food.~

~Food is survival.~

~Survival is good.~

~Grit your teeth...haunch your legs...and pounce.~

~I bite. It dies.~

~It tastes salty and tough.~

~But it is food.~

~Food is survival.~

~Survival is good.~

~It is all I know.~

~All I care for.~

~I am a lone wolf.~

~A lone wolf.~

Alex

The forests of my childhood were now nothing more than ashes. It was a sad sight, but somehow, it felt brighter than when the trees were alive. Even in this desolate place, there was life. Being here with Zara, it felt like the landscape was filled with color and light.

I’d never felt anything like this before.

Sure, our occasional encounters had been pleasurable. They hinted at something more between us, something waiting to be discovered.

Life had always seemed to keep us apart, but now, as we searched for Quinn’s childhood home, it felt like we finally had a chance to really get to know each other.

But I couldn’t find the right words to say.

I’d never been a man to hold back my thoughts, but now, my mind was filled with so many things I wanted to say to her. There were no words that could express what I was feeling as I watched her move gracefully through the trees.

So, we walked in silence, sharing shy smiles every now and then.

Selena had given us vague directions to Quinn’s house. We were supposed to follow Crockett’s Stream until it forked, then head north. But the stream had dried up, leaving only a dusty bed to follow.

At first, it seemed simple enough, but as we walked along the streambed, we found it blocked by fallen trees, abandoned military camps, and makeshift graves.

It was a creepy journey, but eventually, we reached what looked like the fork in the river.

“Is this Crockett’s Fork?” Zara asked.

“I think so. But honestly, I haven’t been to this part of the Packlands in a long time.”

“Which way is north?”

I pulled out an old brass compass and let it balance in my hand. The arrow spun around the yellowed face before finally stopping. Zara and I looked in the direction it pointed.

The path ahead was dark and ominous, lined with twisted tree branches and dead brush.

“How far north did Selena say we needed to go?” I asked.

Zara shrugged. “She didn’t say. Just until we find the cabin, I guess.”

“Well, let’s keep going.”

We continued north through the gloomy forest. It was eerily quiet, as if all the creatures that once lived here had left. The only sound was the wind rustling the dead branches.

“Who would want to live out here?” I asked. “Especially a human. It must be miles from any civilization.”

“Quinn always said her mother was a bit crazy,” Zara replied. “She wanted to hide from the world. She didn’t like visitors, especially uninvited ones.”

“Do you think we need to be careful?” I asked, my military instincts kicking in.

Zara laughed. “I doubt it. She’s just a middle-aged woman. What harm could she do?”

~POP! POP!~

I grabbed Zara and threw us to the ground as two bullets hit the rotting tree in front of us, barely missing our heads.

“What the hell?” Zara whispered in panic.

~Anthony’s men!~ I thought.

“SHHH,” I hushed her, signaling for her to crawl behind me.

~POP! POP!~

Two more shots hit the dirt path next to us.

From the sound and closeness of the shots, I could tell they were from a low-caliber double-barreled shotgun. It wasn’t very accurate, but it was more firepower than we had.

I saw a ditch up ahead. I signaled to Zara, and we rolled into it just as two more shots whizzed over our heads.

Zara looked at me, her eyes wide with fear.

We were in a tight spot, but I’d been in worse.

“They only have one gun,” I whispered. “If I draw their fire, you stay hidden and see where they're shooting from!”

“Are you crazy?” she whispered back. “You’re too weak to outrun bullets.”

“I don’t see any other way out of this, Zara. And I’m not letting you draw fire.”

Zara took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes.

“Sorry, but that’s not your choice.” Before I could argue, she kissed me and ran out of the ditch.

“Zara! Don’t!” I yelled after her.

~POP! POP!~

I watched as Zara dodged the bullets. She was brave, and I admired her for it.

As the shots continued, I tried to find the shooter. The shots were coming from the same place, but at different angles.

I crawled through the grass, trying to find where they were coming from.

Finally, I saw where our attacker was hiding.

A homemade box blind, cobbled together from a mishmash of materials, stood about seven feet tall, blending in with the surrounding trees.

I observed the shaky structure from behind a large tree trunk.

The craftsmanship was shoddy. The three legs holding up the tower seemed to be of varying lengths, awkwardly adjusted to balance each other out.

This design flaw weakened the otherwise well-protected box from which our attacker was shooting.

All I had to do was destabilize the tower and take out its occupant.

Luckily, I was ready for this.

I pulled a small hatchet from my leather bag and slowly crept towards the tower, keeping low to the ground.

Before long, I reached the base of the tower without being noticed.

I took the hatchet and started hacking at the tower’s shortest leg.

After just three swings, the box blind started to wobble.

Inside, I heard a high-pitched scream.

The voice was unmistakably female.

Soon after, the gun fell out of the window. We had disarmed her.

With one last swing, I brought the tower crashing down.

I dashed away just as the structure hit the ground with a loud ~CRASH!~

Wood chips scattered everywhere as the poorly built structure fell apart.

Zara rushed to pick up the gun and joined me at the base of the fallen tower.

She kept the gun ready as we watched for any movement.

Nothing.

Was our attacker dead?

“So, how’d I do?” Zara asked, grinning proudly.

“You never cease to amaze me,” I replied, laughing. “You’ve got the makings of a great guerrilla fighter.”

~Cough. Cough.~

Our focus shifted back to the wreckage as we heard two faint coughs from beneath the debris.

It seemed we hadn’t finished off the shooter after all.

The broken planks started to shift.

Then, a hand reached out, searching for something to hold onto.

~Thin, frail, calloused.~

Another hand joined the first, pushing away the debris.

Zara and I watched as the buried shooter slowly emerged.

Finally, a dust-covered face appeared from the rubble.

It was an older face, filled with fear and etched with worry.

But there was something familiar in the fear.

A softness of skin. An innate elegance.

Almost like…Quinn.

Zara and I exchanged glances, coming to the same conclusion.

This wasn’t one of Anthony’s men. This was Quinn’s mother.

“Well?” she asked, shaking, “Are you gonna shoot me?”

Quinn

~Damn! These ties are too tight.~

~This is so degrading.~

I was tied up and chained in my own room by the people who claimed to be my friends.

The people who were supposed to care about me the most.

How could I have been so naive to let compassion blind me?

Look where it got me!

It cost me my mate.

Now, my freedom.

Soon, my life.

I felt myself losing my mind, screaming until my voice was hoarse.

But eventually, I fell silent.

I knew my screams were pointless.

So I prayed to my protector.

My God.

Matheius.

Surely, he would set me free.

“Father Matheius. Punish their evil. Bring me back to your glory.”

Matheius

Her voice echoed alone on the astral plane.

I was stunned.

This girl, whose life I had taken through simple magic, now prayed to me as her God.

Initially, I had intended to lead her to her own downfall.

But the loyalty of Earth’s last demigod was not something to be discarded lightly.

She might still be useful to me.