Chapter 6 : Into The Wild

Astrid's POV

My legs were immovable. Each step was harder than the last, but I couldn't budge. I wouldn't

budge. My breathing came in short gasps as I struggled through the dense woods, each rough

intake ripping at my throat. My fingers were raw from shoving branches away. My dress was

tattered, hem smeared with mud and blood, and my feet thudded from hours of walking back to

back without respite.

The harsh wind raged against my body, and tremors ran down my limbs, but I didn't rest. I

couldn't rest. If I rested, I knew that I would never be able to stand again.

"I just have to get to the border," I breathed, my voice little more than the crunch of leaves. "Just

a little ways…"

The trees grew thicker as I went down deeper. The sun found it hard to break through the

canopy, and everything around me felt too quiet. No birds. No howls. No sound whatsoever. Just

the soft crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Something was wrong. I knew it. The mood had changed. I didn't know what, precisely—maybe

it was fear that stuck to me like a second skin, or maybe something else. But I wasn't the only

one.

I let my walk slacken, a glance over my shoulder. Nothing. No figure. No shadow. But the hairs

on my arms stood upright anyway.

"Walk on," I told myself. "Don't hesitate."

I gripped my hand around the small dagger I'd pilfered from my father's library. It wasn't a

fighting blade--more of a decoration, really--but it was sharp, and it was the only weapon I had.

And then I heard it.

A growl.

Low, deep, rumbling, and making your blood go icy.

It wasn't close, but it wasn't far, either. It was the kind of sound that made your blood turn cold.

I turned slowly, the dagger shaking in my hand. I peered into the darkness among the trees with

my eyes.

"Who is it?" I shouted, trying to be strong. "Show yourself!

Nothing. Not a sound.

My heart was racing faster. I backed away, my boots crunching loudly in the stillness.

And then I saw it—a movement at the edge of the trees.

I raised the dagger higher. "Don't move a step nearer!"

Another growl, this time louder. Closer.

Then he appeared.

Huge black wolf named Raven, fur disheveled and matted with dried blood encrusted above his

lips. His eyes were with madness—wild, hungry, and with fury. He was gaunt, ribs jutting, and

every inch of him seemed like he had gone too far on hate.

"A rogue," I breathed, stomach twisting in fear.

I didn't know him, but I knew who had employed him. Scarlett.

She had done it. She wanted me dead. She wanted to destroy me completely. Not just from the

pack, but from life.

I raised my knife. "Back off!" I shouted again, but he didn't stop.

He bellowed and came at me.

I shrieked as I sprang sideways, but too late. His claws tore through the muscle of my top arm,

through flesh. I fell to the ground, the pain screaming through me.

I rolled over as he spun around to strike once more. My fingers fumbled for the dagger, now wet

with blood.

"No!" I shouted, holding it out as he charged forward.

The blade cut into his shoulder and he showed me his teeth, snarling, but not enough. He

pushed against me and sent me crashing onto my back. His hot breath greeted my face as he

snarled and snapped his jaws mere inches from my throat.

I screamed and kicked him in the stomach. He stumbled backwards for a second. That was

enough.

I jumped to my feet, clenching the dagger in both hands. My arm throbbed with pain, blood

oozing onto the floor. My head reeled, but I remained standing.

"You're not going to kill me," I hissed, trembling. "Not today."

He struck again.

I did not run this time. I bent low and thrust the dagger upward with every ounce of strength I

had.

The knife entered his chest.

He let out a yell of rage and pain, and he hit into me once more. We went down both of us. My

breath was knocked out of my body as I hit the ground, my back smashing onto a rock. My head

was spinning.

I could sense his body twitch over mine. Then the movement stopped.

Silence.

I opened my eyes, gasping rough breaths. The rogue's body rested on top of mine, both of us

covered in blood. My hands trembled as I pushed him off and rolled onto my side.

I slowly sat up, supporting my injured arm. My whole body hurt. Blood coated everything—his

and mine.

"I have to keep going," I panted to nobody. "I can't quit. Not here."

My knees shook as I stood up. My head pounded, and the universe spun on its side, but I stood

alone.

One step.

Another.

Each felt like it might be my last.

I leaned on tree trunks, propping them up to stay balanced. My eyes blurred in and out of focus,

but I kept going. I had to.

The trees grew thinner. I caught sight of a gap in the forest—open ground ahead. A soft light

seeped through the branches.

The border.

My heart soared. "I'm going to make it," I whispered.

One step forward. Another.

And then I saw them—torches. A wooden gate. The scent of foreign wolves filled the air.

"Ryder Pack…" I mumbled, my smile growing.

I took yet another step.

My knees gave way.

I fell face-first into the dirt.

Darkness surrounded me fully.

⸻

Voices were around me, far away at first, then close. All of them sounded muffled, as if I was

underwater.

"She's bleeding severely."

"She's not from our village."

"She came from the Nightshade territories."

"I smell blood. and something else."

"Wait—she's pregnant."

Hands picked me up. Someone pressed down on the wound. Pain surged. I moaned weakly.

"Easy," someone said. "Get her to the healer—now!"

And then everything went black again.

⸻

I opened my eyes to blackness. My body hurt as if it had been hit by a boulder. My arm was

wrapped in bandages. My throat dry. My head throbbed.

I slowly blinked, attempting to remember where I was.

I wasn't in Nightshade.

I wasn't dead.

I turned my head, each action stiff and painful. The door opened with a creak, and two men in

black uniforms strode inside.

"She's awake," one of them said in a rush.

"Do we take the alpha?" the other one asked.

"I'll go," said the first one, turning to leave.

The other stayed back, arms crossed. He looked at me without expression.

I tried to sit up. A splintering of pain shot through my ribs, and I shrieked.

"Don't move," said the guard. "You're lucky to be alive."

I looked at him, my voice barely above a whisper. "Where am I?"

"Ryder Pack country. You came on our land."

I breathed a nervous breath and nodded feebly.

"You were ambushed, a renegade. You killed him?"

"Yes," I answered, trembling voice. "He was attempting to kill me."

"Most don't survive that."

I glared at my hands.

"I had no choice," I whispered.

He spoke no more after that.

I closed my eyes.

Scarlett had sent that monstrosity. She wanted me dead. But I was alive nonetheless.

I had battled. I had survived.

The version of me everyone hated—the weak one, the do-gooder one—she was dead now.

Gone deep in the woods with that outlaw.

I wasn't coming back. Not ever.

I had something to protect now.

And I was going to survive.

No matter what it was worth.