A Howl In The Night by Lorelei Sutton (life books to read .txt) 📕

"Not now, Xavier," I say weakly, sliding to the rough, dirty ground. "You shouldn't even be talking to me."

I only turn to look at him after he stubbornly sits beside me. His green eyes stare into mine, and I shiver. I am a horrible human being.

"You can't possibly mean that," Xavier's face stretches into a slow smile, almost laughing at my words. "Mona, I know you have been through a lot, and I'm-"

"No, Xavier," I snap, then frustratedly put my head in my hands. The wind bites at our bodies. "You don't understand." 

Tears start to well up in my eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, Xavier's hand reaches towards my shoulder.

"I sent us all to hell."

The hand stops, then retreats from my vision.

* * *

I made sure to sleep near the trees, as far away from the others as possible without being deemed suspicious. Xavier was the first to fall, then Danae's eyes quickly closed, then Yi started snoring like a freight train. Ah, how I love loud snoring.

I wait a few minutes, lying flat on my back and staring straight into the sky. Not a star is up there, only true black, the same black that covers this entire landscape. I have not seen true, natural light from the sky since we came here.

There is always a mist, a deep fog spreading across the sky and forest. It doesn't seem like this place ever receives rain or any sort of irregular weather. If it is the same place as my dream, it is always going to look like this. Which would be explainable, if this place is in fact the land of the dead.

I never imagined Hell to be quite like this. I have always thought of a world of fire and endless smoke and screams of terror, and this world seems anti-climatic in comparison. Instead of horror, there is only... nothing. Only the Shifters.

I still feel bad for bringing the others to this place. But something has to be done. I can't stay with a group bent upon certain death.

Slowing edging to my feet as Yi snores once more, I creep towards the cluster of trees by the clearing. If even a single branch snaps, it's over.

I take one step, and then another. My heart starts to constrict in a weird way as I start to vanish into the mass of the deep, dark forest. I try to quell my pounding heart, for it beats so loudly that it nearly makes the ground shake. I don't understand why I am so nervous.

I am only doing what is necessary to save myself. It is better when I am alone.

Trying to steer my thoughts away from the group I just left, I focus on the path ahead. Filled with sharp rocks and sticks, there is a huge chance of me falling, even though I haven't been very clumsy at all over the past day. Narrowly avoiding a tree branch as my speed increases, my legs start to pick up in speed. I must get further and further away, so far that they can't possibly catch up to me.

Ever since I have gotten here, nothing has felt right. It is like a single chord played wrong in a beautiful melody. Even as I run, it seems like instead of getting farther away from the terrible feelings, I am running straight towards them. Yet my legs continue to beat on the same path, as if nothing now can turn them away. 

I probably wouldn't feel so nervous if my heart wasn't still beating loud enough to wake the dead.

My stomach growls and small beads of sweat appear on my forehead. I am growing more and more exhausted, my throat parched and my vision shaky. Who knows how long I have been running, how long I have even been here. In this place, time runs together, twisting and weaving, frolicking around its inhabitants. 

This must be a dream. It has to be.

That is the reason why none of this makes sense. Why I keep having memories that I don't understand. Why everything is so out of the ordinary.

I'm having another dream of the dark world, but this time, I am the star. The only question is; how do I wake myself up?

The running never ends, but my consciousness starts to stumble a little bit. My eyelids slip down, then struggle to its former position. My stomach screams in agony, and only luck prevents its cries from echoing throughout the forest. I must find a way out of this dream before I die.

Only trees surround me, almost the exact same trees surrounding me when I left. Everything here looks the same, which makes me question whether I have been running in circles or not. 

I can't be. I've been traveling in a straight line.

But this place continues to play with my brain, and out of the corner of my eye I spot a small irregularity, something that doesn't fit with everything I have seen so far. It is a well of some sort, old and misshapen, but to me the symbol of deliverance. Wells... hold water.

I instinctively change my direction for the first time, swerving to avoid tree after tree. I continue to get closer and closer, but it almost seems to be traveling farther and farther away. Maybe I am just getting fooled by this dream world. I blink my eyes in confusion.

When I look again, it is still there.

My pace slows, and for the first time the well looks like I am actually getting closer to it. Excited, I furiously zoom towards it, towards the hope of life-giving water.

Please, let there be water.

My eyes slip once more, then a heavy force pounds the breath out of me as I slam into it, obviously not looking where I am going. "Ugh!" I gasp for breath, my arms touching the object to try and keep myself steady. "I guess I really am exhausted for banging into a tree," I mutter, trying to concentrate on getting rid of the shaking that is reverberating around my body. 

"Last time I checked, I wasn't a tree," a slightly familiar voice travels to my ear, and instantly I start to scream, kicking the talking tree and trying to pull my hands away. However, we seem to be locked in some sort of strange embrace, and both the tree and I lose our balance as we too bang into something hard, then topple almost in midair.

Wait. We are in midair.

My senses go out of control as the world constantly shifts in my eyes, a blur of insanity that I can't possibly understand. It lasts for a second or two, then I just tightly close my eyes and hope this will be over soon. I hope this madness will stop.

And then there is a thud, then the overwhelming, incredible pain begins. My arm hits the ground—I think—and I feel the bone crack. My legs already seem broken. I don't think I have ever taken such a tumble, especially by banging into a talking tree.

My eyes slide open, slowly and hesitantly, to survey my surroundings. The first thing I notice is the moisture surrounding my arms and legs. The second thing I notice is circular walls stretching upwards as far as the eye can see.

The third thing I notice is a red-haired being lying opposite me, his knee and neck bent at awkward angles. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be faintly breathing.

"Griffin?" The name easily floats from my lips, startling even me. 

There is no response.

What... just happened?

I stare at the body beside me, wondering what on earth I should do.

The red-haired man looks like a gangly puppet; bent, broken, and lifeless. His breathing has almost stopped entirely, and his face is a strange shade of purple. How do you revive a dead person? Should I just leave him and try to escape? 

For some reason, I can't cast him aside. I creep closer, looking at his bloodied head and body. It seems like his head hit the side of this well pretty hard. At least I think we fell in the well.

He looks familiar to me, just like the other strange werewolves I saw since I landed in this strange place. There is something about him that I just can't place.

I raise my hand to his shoulders and head, twisting his body so that he is lying on my bruised legs. Carefully examining his face and hair, I notice a gigantic gash stretching across the back of his skull. It doesn't seem to be healing like a normal werewolf wound would. In fact, none of my bruises or cuts seem to be healing either.

I tear my long-sleeved shirt and press it against his gash, tightly binding it as much as I can. His breathing slowly becomes more regular and steady, and a strange emotion lifts my spirits. He is alive. I don't have a dead person on my hands. 

The rest of his body is bruised and his knee is turning at an awkward angle. I slowly try to raise his pants above his knee, being careful not to be too rough with his clothing. A gasp escapes me as black and blue dances from his ankle to his knee, at which point the knee doesn't even look like one anymore. It's an explosion of color—which I assume is probably not a good thing.

I let my finger skim across the top of the bruises, which probably wasn't a good decision judging from the whimpers and yelps escaping the man's dry and crusted lips. His voice is hoarse and strained, so I lean over to the pool of water in the corner and scoop some into my hands. "Open your mouth," I whisper to him, hoping he will understand. 

It takes a few seconds, but slowly he obliges me, though wincing in the process. I let some of the water drop into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily.

The well is close to empty, but still meager puddles of liquid are scattered around our prison. I wonder what has happened in this world, because this is the very first time I have even seen water since our arrival. Although if my visions are correct...

"Mona?" A tiny whisper escapes the red-haired man's mouth, and his arm slowly lifts up in a somehow angelic gesture. "Where... where are you?"

I nearly jump all the way across the well at his words, the chills suddenly creeping up and down my back. Every hair stands on edge as I grow scared to hold him, but scared to let him go. His eyes have been closed ever since I first met him, so there is no way he could know my name.

Or... is there? 

Out of impulse and a bitter frustration, I lean towards the beautiful stranger's ear. "She's dead," I whisper in a biting tone, the words embracing his ear in a sickening caress. "You will never see that weakling of a creature ever again." The most horrible thing about my words is that I don't believe them with every portion of my being. There is some part of me that refuses to accept that these people I keep encountering aren't worth any of my time.

He shakes a little bit, still leaning