Wolves of the West: The Hunt

I didn’t have much time for thinking as the wolf lunged, but I did have time for swearing.

I waited for the impact of the wolf, expecting its claws to sink into my skin while I was pushed to the ground and attacked without mercy.

I had thought the wolf would pin me while the others stalked out of the woods, ready to join the kill.

I waited for nothing.

I opened my eyes and turned, finding myself on the ground. I must’ve fallen to avoid the hit because the wolf was standing behind me, tail swishing just in front of my face.

My nerves split in two as I scrambled to my feet, suddenly aware of my camera as it banged against my ribs.

The wolf was large, larger than I thought wolves got. Its back legs were in a power stance, strong muscles rippling underneath a layer of brown fur.

The wolf’s ears twitched, almost as though it could hear my breathing.

I looked up, wondering what had the wolf so entranced that it forgot I was an easy lunch. Ben stood on his porch, shirtless and staring down the wolf. His eyes were blazing with a fury I couldn’t place.

Where was his terror? Sure, he lived in the woods, but I doubted he had encounters like this on a regular basis.

“Run!” I screamed at him. “Quickly!”

Ben looked at me over the wolf, and my stomach pinched, what was he thinking? Why was he hesitating?

The wolf huffed out a heavy breath, stalking toward Ben slowly. The wolf turned, rounding on me as it kept its head low and dark eyes on mine.

I felt my mouth open in terror, ready to let loose a scream if it came to that.

Ben walked down his front steps, heading toward the foot without fear or hesitation. He wasn’t even wearing shoes, and he was approaching the forest’s most dangerous predator.

The back of my neck tickled with fear as I realized wolves didn’t often travel alone. Where there was one wolf, there was bound to be more.

I turned slightly, checking the tree line for others but finding none.

“Go,” Ben commanded sternly.

The wolf snapped its jaws and looked over its shoulder at Ben. It looked at Ben almost as if to say make me. Ben took two rapid steps toward the wolf, chest puffed with confidence.

The wolf started and scampered forward, casting one lasting glance at me before disappearing into the woods.

I exhaled and collapsed, falling hard onto the ground and struggling to replace the air that left my lungs. I placed my hands on the soft grass, hoping the earth’s touch would help ground me. It didn’t.

I closed my eyes and tried taking deep breaths, but the air was refusing to enter my body.

I pressed my palms to my eyes and tried not to hyperventilate. Hyperventilating had only led to vomiting in my past experiences.

“Morda?” I jumped at the sound of my name and looked up to see Ben standing in front of me. He was clearly concerned, his brow scooped and his eyes worrying over my face.

I swallowed hard. “What the fuck?”

He started to smile and then quashed it. “It was just a wolf.”

“Just a wolf?” I repeated. “Just a wolf?”

Ben shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not a big deal.”

“I just looked death in the face!” I exploded, suddenly able to breathe again.

This time, though, my breathing was far too fast. I closed my eyes as I tried to slow myself down. I was already starting to feel nauseated.

“You weren’t in danger,” he assured me.

I looked up at him harshly. “Oh yeah, because you’re some sort of wolf-whispering freak who talks to rabid animals.”

Ben seemed stricken. “I didn’t talk to it.” He shook his head and glared at me. “And it wasn’t rabid.”

I drew in long, desperate breaths. Clearly, Ben was delusional. I lifted my knees up to my chest and tucked my head between them, hoping to make the nausea go away faster. I groaned when it flared.

I felt Ben’s hand on my shoulder and jumped. Even through my clothes, his touch burned me. It felt like my skin was being electrocuted where his fingers made contact.

It was similar to the time I had touched the wall socket by accident, just without the pain.

I stared up at him, surprised as his tawny eyes lowered. “What was that?”

Ben put his hands into his pockets. “Do you want to come inside?”

I was going to refuse his offer when I heard a low rumble in the distance. I looked up, noticing that the sky had gone from cloud covered to near black.

A storm was rolling in, and the last thing I wanted was to be running blind through a thunderstorm if wolves stalked these woods.

I picked myself up, feeling a raindrop hit my shoulder. Begrudgingly, I nodded my head. For a fleeting moment, I thought Ben smiled, but he turned away quickly, hiding it if it had ever been there.

I hiked my backpack higher up on my shoulder and folded my arms across my chest as I followed Ben. I tried to keep my eyes off his back, but without a shirt, Ben’s muscles were in full view.

Ben held the door open, grimacing as I passed by him. I shivered upon entering his house, something off about the space.

If I believed in spirits, I would have said the house was haunted. I was sure my aunt would have a heyday in there.

As soon as we were inside, the sky opened up, and rain started to fall in heavy sheets. Ben swore and took off toward the backyard, the back door slamming as he passed.

I moved to the kitchen, watching him pull a tarp over the wood and grab his shirt through the window.

When he reentered the kitchen, his black hair was plastered to his forehead and shining. His tawny eyes were bright and excited, the cold rain sending a rush through his skin.

I couldn’t stop myself from exploring his body’s contours as he stood in front of me dripping wet.

Ben cleared his throat, and my cheeks lit up immediately. I had made him uncomfortable. He had caught me staring. I was mortified.

I cleared my own throat and turned, placing my bag on the table and taking a seat awkwardly.

I grabbed my camera and started to fiddle with it, pretending to go through pictures even though I had cleared the memory card the day before.

Ben cleared his throat again. “I’m going to go get changed.”

I didn’t look up. “Okay.”

He disappeared, his footsteps creaking on the old staircase. I stood up and moved to the window, watching the rain hit the ground in large drops. From the sounds of it, the roof was taking a beating.

“Do you want something to drink?”

I jumped, my hand flying to my throat as I turned around. Ben’s tread was unbelievably light. “Did you tiptoe in here or something?”

“What?” Ben said, his face stuck halfway between confusion and amusement. “No.”

“Do you have any tea?” I asked.

Ben shook his head. “No.”

I frowned. “Hot chocolate?”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“No.” I stared at him. “What?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you do have?” I suggested. “I’ve gone through the basics.”

“Beer and water,” Ben answered.

He was the picture of class.

“Water would be great, thanks.”

Ben shrugged and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. It was dusty. The tap spluttered and groaned when he turned it on, running brown for a few moments before it was clear.

He held the glass underneath, filling it to the brim before handing it to me. I smiled and set it down in front of me.

Ben sat down on the far side of the table, angling his body so he was cheating me and the windows. He gazed out into the forest, seemingly on the lookout for something.

I tensed, wondering if the wolves would make a reappearance.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked.

Ben shrugged. “Not long.”

We lapsed into silence. I fiddled with my glass, swirling the water around and watching as unidentifiable chunks fell to the bottom of the glass. I set it down in front of me and didn’t touch it again.

“What do you take pictures of?” Ben asked, his voice surprising me.

Lightning struck, washing out the kitchen with a white glow that outshined Ben’s dull overhead lamp. A few moments later thunder rumbled in the distance.

I shrugged. “People, places, things.” Ben didn’t pry; he didn’t seem like the type to. “Do you have any hobbies?”

He looked at me and made a face. “Hobbies? Who has time for hobbies?”

“Uh, me?”

He looked out the window again. “I don’t have any hobbies, no.”

I gritted my teeth. His presence made me nervous. We didn’t seem to click at all. His personality and mine were complete opposites. We had no common interests and couldn’t seem to hold a conversation.

“Do you like wildlife?” Ben asked.

“From a distance,” I answered, “preferably a large distance that requires a long-range lens.”

Ben sighed and stood up. He cast an odd glance my way and then started to pace the length of the kitchen. He watched the rain fall with a sort of disdain, almost as if he was mad at the sky for opening.

After a few moments of his pacing, I had to comment. “You’re making me nervous.” And he was. His constant movement was catching my eye and making me feel edgy.

“Being inside makes me nervous,” he said, almost bitter.

“Can you sit?”

“Can you stand?”

I tensed my jaw and then grabbed my stuff, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and cradling my camera.

Ben watched as I walked past him, avoiding all contact as I made my way to the front hall. I hadn’t heard him follow me when he spoke.

“Where are you going?”

“I’d rather chance getting struck by lightning than stay here with you,” I answered sharply, surprising myself.

I wasn’t typically this forward with people I didn’t know well. Usually, I was more reserved, but something about Ben pushed my inner personality outward.

Ben smiled. “Am I that unbearable?”

“Yes.”

My honesty definitely shocked him. “The forest floor will be soaked,” he told me, looking down at my sneakers. “You don’t have an umbrella or a jacket.”

“I’ll dry off,” I told him, hiding away my cringe. I didn’t like rain. When Ben lapsed into silence, I took it as my cue to leave. I yanked the door open, stepping out onto the porch.

The humidity had escalated until it was almost impossible to draw a full breath from the air.

The rain fell in hard sheets over the porch’s roof, creating a sort of wall between the end of the cover and the exposure zone. I hesitated for a second before walking forward, stopping just before the rain.

I turned over my shoulder and looked curtly to Ben. “Goodbye.” As soon as I turned around, lightning struck so close I was blinded and deaf for a moment.

An earsplitting crack followed immediately with a chorus of groaning and popping as a tree just beyond Ben’s property fell, taking down two others as it fell.

Without saying a word, I turned around and reentered Ben’s house. He chuckled as I passed him, warm breath fanning over the top of my head.

I rolled my eyes when he couldn’t see and stalked back to the kitchen, throwing my stuff onto his table with agitation.

“Can I see some of your pictures?”

I looked up, surprised to see him sitting across from me. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room, never mind pull out a chair and sit.

“No.” I didn’t let anyone see my pictures, especially not my mother. I had let her see one shoot, and I had to hear her tell all her friends and clients about it for a month.

Ben seemed to understand. “They’re private.”

“Yes,” I told him, “they are.”

“Understandable,” he said.

“Why do you live here?” I asked him, eyeing the decrepit kitchen. It really was pitiful.

The stove looked to be over a century old, and I was positive that the fridge was past death. Tiles had chipped off the backsplash, and the table we sat at had chips and warps in the wood.

Ben shrugged. “Good location.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Good location? You’re in the middle of the forest, no neighbors, no clear roads, nothing.”

“I don’t drive,” he told me.

This surprised me. Our town wasn’t like a city, you had to have a car in order to function.

I had learned this the hard way after spending my entire high school career on foot. I had failed my driver’s test twice already.

“Why not?” Secretly, I hoped he was as bad at driving as I was.

“Makes me anxious,” he said. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t.

“Where’s your family?” I asked. From looking at him, I wouldn’t put Ben any older than nineteen.

Ben stood again, making my nerves flare. I hated when people stood while I was seated. “I don’t have any family.”

I frowned. “Did they die?”

“No.”

Lightning lit up the sky again, but this time the thunder was almost as deafening. There was a slight whine, and then the light overhead buzzed and died.

We were plunged into darkness as the power failed. Most likely a line had been knocked down by the storm. That meant there wasn’t going to be any power for a while.

Ben didn’t seem eager to do anything about the darkness. Unlike most people, he didn’t rush around for candles or fumble with flashlights.

Instead, he sat down and faced the backyard, hands clasped together in his lap as he stared into the woods.

I blinked as my eyes strained and the hairs picked up along the back of my neck. For me, there were very few things as uncomfortable as sitting in the dark.

I hated the way it seemed to dull the rest of my senses as my eyes were forced to overcompensate.

“Uh,” I hedged, “Ben?”

He made a low sound in his throat but didn’t turn to look at me.

“Candles?” I prompted. “Flashlight? Backup power supply?”

Ben raised a hand and waved it, releasing me from the kitchen so I could search.

When he had told me that he hadn’t lived there long, I thought he meant a month or so, now I was beginning to think it had only been a few days. Obviously, he had no idea if he possessed candles.

I got up, bringing my things with me as I moved into the next room. Without the extensive wall of windows, this room was considerably darker.

I pulled my phone out of my bag, sending my mom a quick text, before turning on the assistive light and sweeping it over the space.

I was in Ben’s living room. The room was dusty with a fine layer of dirt covering the couches and floor.

I moved deeper into the room, banging my shins on a low coffee table and nearly toppling over an empty picture frame.

I made my way to the large, ornate fireplace and knelt in front of it.

I opened the metal grate slowly, cringing at the sound as I stuck my head into the dark space and turned my light so it was facing up the chimney.

The top part was closed, and I thanked myself I had enough sense to check or else I would have smoked out the house.

I leaned back, opening up the top grate before I looked around for supplies, setting my phone screen down on the floor so the beam of light speared toward the ceiling.

Ben had piled wood beside the fireplace, an assortment of large hardwood blocks to smaller pieces for kindling. I stood and ran my hand along the mantle, finding a lighter and smiling.

This I could handle. For years, my mother had insisted that we only use a woodstove to cook our food. I could handle fire.

I reached into my bag and pulled a few old assignment sheets I had left lingering at the bottom and crumpled them up.

I strategically built up a wooden frame around the paper, trying my best to make something that was going to last with the materials I had.

I flicked open the lighter and lit the paper on fire. The rest of the wood caught easily, blazing and crackling immediately. I smiled, stood before I moved to the couch, and pulled off a cushion.

I shook it out, cringing as dust fell from it and floated to the ground. I flipped the cushion over so the dirtiest side was underneath me and placed it in front of the fire.

After a moment of debate, I got another cushion and placed it beside mine. I sat then, face and neck warmed by the flames. I watched them dance and flicker, wondering if I should take a picture.

“You forgot your water.”

I jumped, nearly crying out. “Stop doing that.”

Ben sat, a small smile playing on his face. He set my glass of water down in front of me and stretched out. He was holding a bottle of beer. “Stop what?”

“Sneaking around,” I hissed, drawing my knees in. “It’s creepy.”

Ben chuckled. “You just don’t know how to listen.” I watched as he brought the beer to his mouth, taking a long swig. He noticed me staring and froze. “What?”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” he answered.

“You’re too young to be drinking,” I informed him. “Who bought that for you?”

Ben looked like he wanted to laugh. Instead, he pressed his lips into a firm line and held the beer out to me. I recoiled.

No one had ever offered me alcohol. I didn’t hang around any kids who drank, I had never been to a party, and my mother believed alcohol was useless.

“Don’t look so afraid, Morda,” he chided me, “haven’t you ever…?”

I shook my head. “I don’t drink.”

This time, Ben did laugh. “What teenager doesn’t drink?” His comment set my cheeks aflame. Everything about what he just said bothered me.

He made it seem like I was a child. He said the word teenager like he was excluded. He asked the question as if he thought I was inferior.

I grabbed the beer bottle from him and twisted it around, peering at the label as though I had enough knowledge to judge the brand. “Lots of teenagers don’t drink,” I protested.

He watched me with a curious expression. “I thought that’s what kids did.”

“You should know,” I bristled, “you’re only a year older than me.”

Ben didn’t comment. “It’s what those other kids were doing when I first met you, right? There were smashed bottles where you left your things. Were they your friends?”

“No,” I answered. I winced. I hadn’t meant to, but I had answered in that quick, defensive way that made it obvious I was as far from friends with those kids as possible.

His voice was low. “Were they mean to you?”

I couldn’t look at him, so I looked to the fire. I could avoid questions too.

“So if your family isn’t dead, then where are they?”

“I moved,” he answered, brushing it aside. “Were you bullied in school?”

I was equally as evasive. “Where did you move from?”

“Far away.” He paused for a moment. “Do you have many friends?”

“Do you miss them?”

“Are you lonely?”

His question caught me off guard. Was I lonely? I was sure no one had ever asked me before.

I had my mother and aunt, and sometimes I had Jocelyn, but I didn’t have anyone close, anyone who knew all my ins and outs, anyone who loved me because they wanted to, not because they were obligated to.

I looked into his tawny eyes as directly as I could.

“Are you?”