The stench of blood, rot and general wrongness hit me like a hammer, and I gasped. “Zeke, no!” I whispered, throwing out a hand, but it was too late. Zeke released the string, and the arrow shot into the bushes, striking its mark with a muffled thunk.
A maddened squeal rose into the air, making my blood run cold. The bushes parted, and a huge boar lunged into the clearing, frothing and shaking its head. Its eyes blazed white, with no pupils or irises, and blood streamed from the sockets, running down its bristly fur. Two yellow tusks curled from its jaw, razor sharp and lethal, as it screamed again and charged at Zeke.
As I lunged forward, Zeke dropped the bow, pulled his gun and his machete at the same time, and fired several shots at the rabid pig. I saw blood erupt from the boar’s head, face and shoulders, but the crazed animal didn’t slow down. At the last instant, Zeke stepped aside, swinging himself out of the boar’s path, and brought his machete slashing down across its flanks.
The boar whirled with frightening speed, but by that time, I had drawn my sword and sliced deep into the animal’s back, shearing through flesh and bone. The pig squealed and whirled, gouging at me with those deadly tusks, but its spine had been severed, and its hind legs gave out before it could reach me. Zeke stepped up and hit it again, landing a blow directly behind its skull, opening a gash in its neck, and the boar stumbled. Raising my blade, I brought it down with all my strength, aiming for the gaping wound Zeke already opened. The katana edge sliced cleanly through the pig’s burly neck, cutting through spine and flesh and bone and severing the head from its shoulders. The huge body crashed to the ground and rolled over, kicking the air, as the head clenched and unclenched its jaws in helpless rage, before they both, finally, stopped moving.
I slumped against a tree, letting my sword arm drop, watching Zeke as he sank to the ground, gasping. I could see his muscles shaking from adrenaline, the sweat running down his brow and cheeks. And I heard his heart racing a mile a minute, thudding loudly in his chest.
“Oh, my God.” Darren staggered forward, shaking as well. There was an arrow fitted to his bowstring, but everything had happened so very fast; he hadn’t had time to shoot it. “Are you two all right? I’m sorry, I couldn’t…it just came out of nowhere.”
Zeke waved it off and stood, grabbing a hanging branch a bit unsteadily. “It’s all right,” he panted, holstering his gun. “It’s done. It’s over, and everyone is fine. Allie?” He looked at me. “You’re okay, right? It didn’t hurt you, did it?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
“More than fine.” Darren’s voice was awed and jealous all at once. “Damn, girl. You cut its head clean off! I take back my side of the bet—you can go hunting with us anytime.”
I smirked at him but was suddenly aware of Zeke, watching me now with a thoughtful expression on his face. “You were incredible,” he said softly, then seemed to catch himself. “I mean…that sword must be crazy sharp, to cut through a full grown boar. You’re not even breathing hard.”
Alarm shot through me. I deliberately took a deep, ragged breath. “It just hasn’t hit me yet,” I said, trying to sound breathless and shaky. Zeke stepped toward me, looking worried, but my attention suddenly shifted to something else. In that breath, I smelled the foul, rotten carcass of the rabid boar, making me slightly nauseated, but I also caught the hint of blood. Clean, untainted blood. Human blood.
“Hello?” called a weak, unfamiliar voice through the trees. “Is…is anyone there? Are you still alive?”
We all jerked upright, pointing weapons into the darkness. “Where are you?” Zeke demanded, easing back to stand with Darren and me. “Show yourself.”
“I can’t,” the voice answered. “The boar…my leg. I need help…please.”
I peered into the forest, tracking the voice by sound, trying to pinpoint its location. “There,” I muttered to Zeke, pointing to the branches of an old pine tree. A dark shape huddled among the needles, clinging desperately to the trunk. He smelled of fear and pain. And blood. A lot of blood.
We approached the tree with caution, weapons still out and ready. The dark shape came into focus; a middle-aged man with a short yellow beard and dirty blue overalls. He watched us with glazed eyes, his teeth clenched in a grimace of pain.
“The pig?” he whispered.
“It’s dead,” Zeke assured him. “You can come down. We’re not going to hurt you.”
“Thank God.” The man slumped in relief and half fell out of the tree, landing with a gasp. The smell of blood was suddenly overwhelming. I bit my lip to keep my fangs retracted.
“Damn pig caught me off guard.” The man gasped, sinking back against the trunk, extending one leg with a grimace. The right pant leg was torn to the knee, stained dark. “I was able to get up the tree and out of reach, but it got me anyway. Stubborn thing was waiting for me to come down. I’d be dead if you hadn’t come along.”