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“Forward!!!”

The commanding tone rang out. The trees shifted unpredictably as they blurred past the rapidly moving silhouettes that charged forward. The figures who ran wove through them like the wind through tall grass, or fingertips sliding through strands of silken hair. The air was heavy and thick with the uncanny scent of a mistake that had been made—and one that was trailing fast. The only combattant to the coven’s speed was the wind itself, and the harrowing sound of heavy footfall behind them, which came in sets of fours. 

This wasn’t home…

Not theirs, at least. The grounds were a tripwire. Once stepped on, they became a minefield to the fledgling vampires, who until then had little chance to test their endurance against the children of the moon. The scent that clung to the moist air was an overwhelming testament to the numbers behind them. It sent Lucienne’s senses into a frenzy that drove her path forward.

The nimble vampiress was keeping up with ample speed. Lucienne could hear the guttural growls made, whenever the beasts’ paws landed back upon the ground, and sunk into the dampened forest floor. She could hear the crunching of bark, snapping of branches, and scattering leaves behind them. The sounds grew closer and further apart as the wolves in pursuit ducked and wove through those same trees with the utmost familiarity. The vampires they were hunting hardly had the luxury of knowing the path ahead of them.

Lucienne’s eyes were kept forward. It was as she was trained—as they all were. See wouldn’t so much as cast a glance to those on either side of her, jutting between the trees to follow their charging leader. The young vampiress tracked her ‘siblings’ only by the cadence of their steps through the maze of forest that hindered their escape. She knew Dominic’s stride by heart through the years already spent hunting. The footsteps to her left were clumsy enough to be the youngest of the four: Nikolaj.

The border was all that mattered now. They didn’t have time to stop, think, or negotiate. The shout to run was the second of the orders that Abram had gotten wrong that night, and it spelt trouble in the de Norcio Coven house should they manage to return.

There wasn’t an option left.

They were in the wolves’ territory. The pacts and jurisdictions that stitched the Eurasian continent together were like spider webs, laced together over the centuries. These doctrines brought tenuous peace to the species, eager to keep one another out. Over the last several decades, the nomadic coven had navigated those careful pathways with a natural sense of care. All it took was the wrong turn. 

The wrong step. One corner cut.

“W-What do we!?”

Luci heard the anxious shout from over her left-hand shoulder. The young man in question was the fledgling of the ranks. Nikolaj was their coven Mistress’ new obsession, her new prize. The once-twenty-year-old turned creature of the night had Lucienne’s pity in the matter. His dark curled hair was matched with a pale complexion that mirrored the terror of the oncoming threat, growing closer and closer to either side of their small group.

The vampiress knew better than to shout back, or even turn her head. Any sound gave away what stealth they might have. There was only one option left.

“Forward! Listen for the waters!” 

The Elder vampire in front hissed sharply through his teeth to silence the whimpering behind. It was her mentor, Abram, who only had eyes set on the distantly approaching territory border. The man was her unspoken ‘god’ to not be crossed within the coven house, in a system that was built off tradition and strict regulation... The young vampiress had begun to see it as a system to strangle those beneath their ranks. 

Until now, she was the only one of the party to ever see the man flustered. Abram was just as painfully aware of the wolves’ gaining on them as he was of the approaching river current that echoed in his ears. The river marked their boundary to safe land if only they could just—

A horrid scream ripped through the air.

The telling sound came from over Lucienne’s shoulder and caused her head to dart in the direction of the sound. 

“Niko-!?”

She saw the dark shadow overtake the man’s silhouette and crumple it to the ground. The sound of debris on the timber floor amplified, and a chorus of rips and tears joined the symphony along with the screaming of the young vampire’s demise. The swarm grew heavier to the left as the wolves enveloped the youngest vampire’s tattered body. Nikolaj’s shouting had ceased by the time two more shadows of wolves joined the first.

“No! Come on-!”

Lucienne was the first to intercept the familiar stride moving diagonally across the tree line. It was Dominic, who with a mortified look, was on his way toward the gruesome scene. The vampiress’ arm hooked in front of his torso and threw the Englishman forward, sending him scrambling for a grasp on the branch in which he landed.

“He’s gone! Go, Dom!” Luci hissed. She wouldn’t lose another member by her side. Not him, not now. 

 The sound of roaring waters ahead grew louder in their ears, competing with the remainder of the snarling wolves that hadn’t lost their trail, despite the downed vampire left in their wake.

Then came the final jump.

One set of frantic feet left the ground, then the next. Lucienne was the last to hurl herself over the river’s edge, finding footfall on a stone at its center, before taking the final leap to touch the sunken earth on the other end. The vampiress landed behind the two men clumsily and felt the vice-like grip of Abram pull her further inland.

“Let go-!” Lucienne shrieked, and ripped her head around to observe the treeline behind them. 

The twisting shadows of the remaining wolves circled on the perimeter, tracing the scent of those that had narrowly escaped their borders. 

“You left him!” Lucienne shrieked once more and ripped her arm from Abram’s grasp. She turned around to cast a sharp stare to the Elder whom she knew better than to cross. “You left him! We should have never crossed the river and you knew-”

Thwack. The next thing she felt when her words ceased was the cracking of tree bark behind her shoulder blades. She saw Abram’s boots approaching to hoist her back up by her collar, forcing his gaze upon her with livid, murky crimson eyes.

“Assez! Not another word, Lucienne! Another word, I will throw you back to the wolves.”

The vampiress flinched yet bared her teeth out of pain and spite for being silenced. She never did like the sound of French, nor her name, on the Russian man’s tongue. 

Still…

She recognized what tone was used when he spoke in promises.

Their return to the coven grounds was silent from then on, and one set of footsteps lighter. 

Nikolaj was gone, and the rest of their small group was crestfallen as they took a steadier pace for the rest of their journey home.

Abram’s eyes were turned only forward toward their destination, undoubtedly weaving the story of what happened for the Mistress of the Night that awaited his report.

Lucienne wondered whether their makeshift leader—her mentor, even cared.

He would come morning when the Headmistress demanded answers.

He would when the presence of Rosa’s fledgling, was something he couldn’t deliver.

He just might, one day, when the young vampiress made her own run for the river.