The Wolf's Game
Their fingers are unnaturally thin, with joints that multiply before my eyes, and nails sharpening into black points that scrape against my skin as I tear myself free again and again.
“Stop!” I scream, slamming my shoulder into someone’s chest.
They don’t stagger. They don’t even blink. Their ribs open where I hit them, splitting apart like a ribcage made of wet wood, and something dark and crawling peers out before snapping shut again.
I gag. This isn’t my pack. This is the Game wearing them.
I run faster. The clearing warps around me, trees bending inward, branches stretching like skeletal fingers overhead. The ground tilts sharply, pitching me forward. I stumble, barely catching myse