#grati probably just came up from swimming

[anneapocalypse]

Sisters 💚💙

And yes, Ariane is the older one, she's just short.

[bltzgore]

TW: mention broken rib, blood, running, fear

Shoving past tree branches and through bushes that scraped him, he couldn’t feel them. His breathing was rapid and uneven. His body was screaming for oxygen but each deep breath invited fire into his side as it infuriated the doubtlessly broken rib. He didn’t know how long he could run. There wasn’t much longer, his head was pounding and he could feel the edge of his vision trying to pull away. One leg was worse off than the other, he wasn’t quite sure how he was running on it. As just as his brain started to wander to this particular miracle of adrenaline it ceased. 

He tripped or his leg gave, one way or the other he wound up face down in the dirt. He borderline blacked out as his ribcage was taxed. His lungs scrambled to get air back in his chest, and he slowly got his shaking arms under him as he attempted to get back to his feet. His sight blurred for just a second as his head took the opportunity to swim in the excess terror. But as his eyes focused again they reached a set of heavy black boots, one of them mended partially with well maintained metal of some sort.

He took no time to think, he threw himself backwards and started to scramble away. The further back he got the more complete of an image he got. Those boots were worn but feet attached to a set of legs covered by blue jeans slightly worn about the knee. From there it turned to a navy shirt brushed with something black in a few places. The arms that protruded from this torso were strong and marred up. One of the forams was tattooed with a realistically drawn dog snarling with a foaming mouth and crazy eyes. Atop all of that was a face with just as much tan and marring as the arms. In that head there were eyes the color of murk and hair that drained light away rustling like tree branches.

He would have taken this to be a human were it not for the mask. At first glance one might assume it was made of fabric and simply worn for some sort of catastrophic fashion statement but no, that was natural coloring. It was so near to jet black it nearly matched the hair. It was the sharp contrast that made the murky eyes and two little mud colored patches by her eyebrows stand out so much, so brown they glowed. 

He scrambled until his back reached a tree, even then he held up an arm in poor defense of his head. He scrunched one of his eyes shut and waited. For the fist, for the teeth, for the claws, something. But she just knelt down. There was no malice in those eyes, but the carry over fear wouldn’t let him calm just in case. 

“Easy, calm down.” She slowly reached out her hand, gently placing it on his forearm. She was patient, but also strong, and slowly she moved his arm down. She got a much clearer look at the bruises blooming on his face as the clouds made way for the moon. “You had a rough night, huh?” she observed quietly.  

He opened his mouth to answer when a voice rang out from the forest at his back. “Where'd you go, human!!?? You can’t hide!! We can smell ya!” The voice was rife with a feral gratieness to it. 

As soon as it hit his ears the terror came rushing back and he sprang up trying to run again. He made it five steps before he saw the futility of track. A seven-foot chain link fence topped with the customary razor wire stood before him. He almost collapsed against it, trying hard to keep from falling. But even as he reached the ground there was something that wouldn’t let him lie there and wait for his hunters to reach him. Still he tried to crawl. 

“Stop, stop, stop, hey!” she crouched beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, halting his nonexistent progress. “Calm down, just relax. You’re safe now.”

“They’re. Coming.” He managed. 

“I know,” she hushed him, “But it’s fine now. I’ll handle them.” Her tone turned heavy at the last part. 

Before he could answer she stood and turned away, the rustle of footsteps drawing her attention to the trees. He kept himself propped up on his hands as he tried to avoid taking deep breaths, blood dribbling from his nose and a cut on his forehead. He watched them appear from the cold shadows cast by the trees. Glinting eyes of almost yellow flashing before they emerged. There were four of them, she could smell them and hear their breathing. They hadn’t even tried to hide one of their number in the trees behind them. She mentally marked down their intelligence. The leader of their order seemed to be one with a sort of lanky but not quite twig-like build. There were two that seemed slightly stronger than he, and one who was shorter and was just lurking about the treeline without much effort at being stealthy. Rank and immature coyotes.

Their leader stepped forward with an almost shark-like smile. “Give us back our chew toy.” He ordered. 

A group of kids trying to run wild, but probably running back to mom and dad every time the forest got too dark or their phone ran out of charge. Unlike the purists, these punks’ definition of wild was eating roadkill, wearing loose, dirty clothes, and hanging out in the woods that were just at the edge of the town. She could smell his last meal clearly on his breath. She had to openly keep from wincing at the stench. “Humans aren’t chew toys, and you’re not wild animals. Go home.” She dismissed.  

She could see the fury collecting in their leader’s eyes. “Bitch, you think you can just order us around?” he seethed. “There’s four of us and only one of you! We’ll kill you and take him after!” His teeth flashed in the moonlight, far too long and spikey.  

She didn’t have the energy for this. “I’m going to give you one warning. If you don’t turn and run like an intelligent beast I am going to beat you until you can’t.” 

Self doubt seemed to flash through his eyes before he remembered that his friends were behind him. He couldn’t back out, he didn’t need to back out. He was fighting a girl! He’d crush her! With the burst of confidence he charged forward snarling and swinging.

She glided past his pathetic excuse for a punch. It was wild and untrained. She was sure even he didn’t know where he wanted it to go. Her counter was a strike unleashed like a coiled spring. Her fist collided with his face and she felt the transfer of force. She had to remind herself to hold back. If she went too far she could get into trouble. No broken bones, she reminded herself, and pulled back. She took half a step away and waited for the next attack, but it didn’t come. The coyote leader was holding a hand over his bloody nose. He was scared of her now, he was trying to find enough of a reason to run. Well, why deny him what he was so desperately searching for? 

She lunged and for the first time genuinely flashed her teeth and snarled. A hauntingly inhuman sound. Like a dog’s, but much stronger and much deeper. It shook their bones. Even the air was still for several seconds after, until the leader made the sensible call to run. His lackeys followed suit. 

It wasn’t until they were out of sight that she turned back. He was still leaned over, but a small puddle of blood had collected below his mouth. He looked up with pained but grateful eyes. She knelt back down next to him, “Told you I’d handle them.”