All Chapters of Lone Witch, Rogue Wolf: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Surrounded by darkness, Tilla shivered as the wind howled relentlessly over the moors. Her dress torn, it proved insufficient in warding off the persistent drizzle that saturated the night. The dampened red locks of Tilla’s disheveled hair clinging to her face and neck, she wiped them away from her eyes as she attempted to take in her surroundings. Brambles and thistles scraping against the exposed skin on her legs and arms, she clambered shakily to a standing position. Not one inch of her body appeared to have been spared from a cut or a bruise of some description, these seemed old pains that were numbed mildly by the unforgiving chill that permeated the air. Searching the land for any semblance of familiarity, Tilla could discern amongst the dark and desolate hills of the moorlands that she recognized, much less that suggested anything of home. ‘Home? Where was home?’ She thought. The answer, eluding her, Tilla felt her heart rate begin to quicken. Finding that her memories remained

A bright twinkling light made out vaguely, it was nearly obscured completely by the swaying leaves of the trees and wisps of dark clouds that floated past the deep hole that Tilla had fallen through. Its entrance concealed by soil and overgrown flora, there was only a small gap in which she could glare up at the night sky far above her. The stars winking down at her mockingly as she laid on the course and craggy rock at the bottom of the pit, Tilla groaned as she felt a ripple of pain move through her spine. However, this pain was but a minor ache compared to the aggravated throbbing she felt in her ankle. Conscious that her pursuers would not be far behind her, Tilla did not take more time to lament this change in her circumstances before slithering away from the opening. Considering it prudent to remove herself from the direct eyeline of anyone who might chance a peek within the small orifice that had been made in the weakened ceiling of the cave. Tilla crawled along the floor on h

The Hunter’s steps or the sound of his breathing as he trudged through the forest, still too far to be discerned by the natural ear. Tilla strained to listen. However, failing to detect another’s presence other than herself and the Lycan, who persisted to sit on top of her heavily, she instead looked back up at the wolf skeptically. Squirming in order to signal her discomfort in their current position, the movement provoked a crinkling of fallen leaves and other assorted remnants of forest debris, which prompted the man to press her back down more firmly into the ground. His ears, remaining keenly fixated on the sounds of the wood that were secret to her, he growled, “Hold still.” A crack of a twig heard shortly after this impatient warning was issued, Tilla’s head twitched in the direction of the noise. Convinced more now that the man had not been trying to deceive her, she no longer insisted on escaping from his grasp. Settling into her awkward situation beneath him, Tilla’s eyes

“Tilla!” Her name called out through the red mist that had corrupted her vision. It was yelled again before Luther’s voice could startle Tilla from the trace she had fallen under. Blinking, wide-eyed and bewildered as though she had just awakened from a long nap, she glanced around at the men that surrounded her. Finding her assailants now collapsed on the ground, their hands held to their throats in a desperate appeal for air. Appearing to be strangled by an invisible opponent, the wood was soon afflicted by a gruesome chorus of gargling and grunting as they remained doubled over on the dirt. Still pinned beneath the weight of the man who had pinned her to the ground, he spluttered forth a cough. The wet hacking noise followed by a spray of red liquid that splattered across her face, Tilla stayed frozen as Luther came forward to pull the man from her. The lycanthrope’s eyes, darkened by the vehemence of his anger, Tilla scrambled away from him as he subdued her attacker with a bruti

The monotonous rumble of the carriage wheels as they rolled over rocks and gravel littering the broad dirt road, droning on as she was pitched from side to side. Tilla’s eyes drifted lazily over the landscape that passed them by until an immense white wall rose into view. Her neck craning backwards as she surveyed the tall blank expanse, which stretched up towards the sky. There appeared to be only the sentries bordering the thick boundary’s top that separated Plentar’s outer wall from the hanging clouds above. Like stony gargoyles along the parameter’s rim, the guards stared down from their lofty positions to observe the caravan that approached. Remaining unmoving from their posts, they regarded the wretched cargo the platoon of Hunters had brought with them in the manner of cold impartiality that would have been expected from them as the wagon crept closer. The rudimentary transport, fitted with metal bars, which had been strengthened against any magic or abilities that any of its o