Barely Breathing

"A lil' bit’ scared their young fella? Don't yer worry I ain't hurt ehh." The rogue smirked devilishly. I think he was in his late forties and a tall, skinny one. His accent tells me he wasn't from around here either, maybe from the western side.

"Back off!" I hissed when he took a step forward. Glaring at him, I took the two knives attached to both of my thighs and positioned them in front of me. "Leave now, before I kill you."

His gaze drew on both of my hands holding a knife in each. His laughter echoed through the meadow. He pointed a finger at me mockingly. "Yer kill me with those clanky blades?" He laughed again holding his stomach and wiped his eyes at the back of his hand. "Yer holdin em wrong, twas not how one old fool should use ‘em ehh"

My confidence wavered a little but I shook it off quickly. "Knife is a knife, it cuts," I spoke. "Run now rogue before I think you prefer to die in my hands."

His smirk widened. “Slow down there ehh young fella, yer might regret it.”

I didn’t waste more time as I charged at him with a cry, slashing his arm in the process when he used it to block my aim. The cut wasn't deep yet blood already oozed from it. I attacked him again, this time he was able to dodge as step after step, I continued to aim and he swiftly dodged or ducked in every single blow.

It was getting harder to overpower him. As a full-grown werewolf, he was way faster than I am. He managed to punch me on my cheek and I stumbled as pain shoots in my jaw. The air was knocked off of me, making me dizzy momentarily. I spat blood; my lips broke too because it stings like hell.

My breath came in ragged, but I continued my assault. He got a hold of my wrist and I slashed his already marred face with the other knife to free myself. Luckily, his hold loosened.

He was gritting his teeth and a feral growl escaped from him followed by an inhuman

pay for

as he unceremoniously shifted into his wolf, shredding his clothes in the process. His wolf was a dirty brown, even its fur was matted with dirt. He growled louder and madder, bending his body like a wolf does before

shoots on different sides of my body from all my injuries earlier. Breathing

the knives so I was holding the handle downwards, its blade pointing down. My right hand leveled with my

mine's getting worse every minute. The chance I would get out of this alive lay in a thin

may

in my memory, blending well with the present. Vague images of my pack members

and I quickly dodged and aimed his sides with the other blade. I hit the ground hard. I grimaced when my arms embraced the fall. My knives

spread through my body and evidence of blood tainted my shirt. He had managed to claw me. The cut was deep and more blood-soaked my shirt. I felt light-headed from

was yanked up painfully and I was shoved on a hard surface, my back against a boulder. His naked body pressed up against mine. He was shouting at my face and saying something but I couldn't understand, I couldn't focus. I couldn’t feel my legs nor my hands. I spat on his face instead, the last attack I can

growled and to my blurring sight, I saw him wiped his face. He yanked my hair firmer and slammed my head on the boulder

dying. Pain is all I could think of. I felt numb from too much pain, from too much blood flowing out of my veins. My head probably had some crack. One more hit and I'm gone. I won't last any longer with all of my wounds. I

by how gentle the