He smells like blood. And a job to be done. As does the girl. As does the pup.
Andie, Henry thought feebly.
The wolves attacked together. Pain collided with him with the force of a small truck, Henry’s nose stuck deep into sick-smelling fur. Claws tore into his coat, down to the skin and straight through. Henry shouted and twisted his head away, and saw the red wolf sprawled in the snow like it had tripped. It snarled and kicked, and he refused to blink, terrified that the snow would turn red, that he’d see black hair and hear Andie screaming. Blood dripped onto his face from Pain’s tongue, and he pushed back hard, on instinct, so the teeth missed his throat and sliced through his cheek instead.
The gray wolf was heavy and incredibly strong. Cold snow worked into Henry’s coat, and claws dug deep into his shoulders.
Lux growled loud, and in the corner of his eye Henry saw the brave dog up on two legs, biting the neck of the thin, white wolf. He bit and held, until Oblivion came at him in a flash of black. Then he yipped, and flew, and lay still.
“No! Get away from my dog! Andie! Run!”
Henry wrenched himself hard, as hard as he could, and Pain wheezed as his knee crunched the wolf’s ribs. Fear and surprise washed away. He looked at his dog, and the wolves, and the fear washed away red.
“Get away from him!” Andie shouted. She swung a thick branch across Oblivion’s back, coming out of nowhere, running into the clearing from the trees. Henry wanted to scream for her to run, run, you idiot, but he couldn’t. She looked so damn brave. She’d gotten out, somehow gotten away, but she’d come back. For him and his dead dog, when she might have lived.
“Lux, get up! Henry!” She swung the branch between herself and Panic. Famine edged around behind her. And Oblivion wouldn’t stay down in the snow for long.
Andie adjusted her grip, and her balance. She ducked fluidly when the white wolf jumped, and then looped the branch at Famine’s feet to send it rolling. The other end she thrust into Oblivion’s chest, popping it back. Watching her, Henry could almost believe she could win. He watched so close he didn’t notice Pain regaining its feet in the snow beside him.
“Andie, run!”
“Not without you,” she shouted, and Henry barely dodged left as Pain sprang again. He caught the wolf’s jaw in his hands and its fangs slid into his palm. Don’t let go. Tear its head clean off. But it was the wolf who pulled, jerking on his arm like Lux at the end of his tug rope.
He didn’t know how, but he caught the creature’s shoulders and lifted it, his hand coated in hot blood and spit, and threw the wolf away. He ran to Andie, his eyes on the wolves and not on the motionless bit of black and silver fur at her feet.
Henry leaked blood from his hand and cheek. The wounds on his shoulders were hot and wet. The wolves hadn’t taken much worse than a couple of tosses into soft snow.
“We have to move together,” Andie said.
“Right.” But it wouldn’t matter. They were going to die. Torn apart, red and steaming in the snow. Pain would slice them open. Panic would spread them out. Oblivion would swallow their hearts and eyes, and Famine would eat the rest. All their families would find was red snow. Red snow, and the body of a discarded German shepherd.
Andie swung the branch out and it raked across Panic’s skull. Henry felt the warm press of her against his back. He tried to fight alongside her, but his vision began to blur. He was losing too much blood. The whole world went white, like the clearing was filling with fog.
“Andie, you have to go. I’m not going to make it.”
“What is that?” she asked. “What’s happening?”
Henry blinked as Andie staggered and rubbed her eyes. The clearing really was filling with fog. The wolves whined and snapped their jaws on empty air.