Feral Heart

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slyc_willie
slyc_willie
1,342 Followers

"What the fuck!"

"What was that!"

"Looked like a fucking werewolf, man!"

"Joey! Where's Joey!"

Ryan leapt toward where the now-vacated man had been standing. "Get back to the camp!" he barked, then pointed. "Now! Run!"

The men complied, the lights of their flashlights dancing across the trees and foliage of the forest as they stumbled and dashed their way back. Ryan did not watch them, focusing his attention toward the direction in which the man had been taken.

A sudden rush of movement to his right, heading toward the five fleeing men, caught his attention. He pivoted, sighting along the barrel of the shotgun. Briefly, he saw what appeared to be the outline of a man.

He fired.

The blast from the shotgun lit up his field of view and shattered the night air. Something stumbled, growled, and lost its footing. Ryan darted forward, leaping over a fallen tree. He landed in a crouch and brought the shotgun to bear.

Before him, a figure suddenly erupted from the darkness, tall, lean, covered in short fur. Arms outstretched, fingertips flashing like the blades of knives, red eyes glowing in the darkness, it was all at once a man and something else.

It bellowed in rage upon him, with such ferocity that Ryan nearly felt it. But he was a trained soldier. Combat instincts kicked in.

Boom-chick-chak-boom-chick-chak-boom! The shotgun blared once, twice, three times, each salvo of lead shot sent into the body of the man-beast before him. It convulsed with each impact, howling and clawing at empty air, before toppling back through the dense brush.

For a moment, the air was still and fragrant with the aroma of gunpowder. Ryan drew in deep breaths. Hearing momentarily dulled, all he heard was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Did I kill him? he wondered.

But the underbrush between he and his target shifted and rustled. As his sense of hearing returned, Ryan heard an annoyed growl . . . and a voice.

". . . kill you . . . ."

Aw, shit . . . run, Ryan, run!

So he did, darting after the men, sprinting as best he could given the terrain. He could see the dancing beams of their flashlights ahead, could hear their frantic and frightened cries.

"Go! Go!" he shouted. "Get back to camp!"

* * * *

"What the hell was that?"

"Did you kill it?"

"Where are the bodies?"

"What happened to Joey?"

Ryan winced at the barrage of questions that assaulted him once he and the five volunteers returned to the camp. The others all gathered around him as he stood mere feet from Una and her tree.

"Enough!" cried Ryan, garnering their attention. He made an effort to appear calm and in charge. "Look. Obviously, there's . . . someone out there, and he's not very fucking nice. He's already killed the marking team, and he took out Joey. I think I shot him, but I'm not sure."

"Oh, fucking hell," one man lamented.

"Whattaya mean, you're not sure?" another queried, fear blazing in his eyes.

"'Cause it's a fucking werewolf, man--"

Another man snorted derisively. "No such thing as werewolves, asshole! You been watching too many fucking movies--"

"Fuck you! You weren't there!"

Ryan huffed in frustration. "Everyone shut up!" he roared, glaring at the men. "Now, just listen to me. We need to be prepared. Arm yourselves with anything you can, and keep close. How many working walkie-talkies we got?"

"I got some juice left in mine," announced one of the loggers.

"Me, too," added another.

"Okay," said Ryan. "One for each camp. Don't use them unless you need to. Post watch, figure out who's gonna be awake when."

"And what the fuck are you gonna do?" asked Martin Milton as he bullied his way through the crowd. His small eyes were dark and angry as he settled his gaze on Ryan. "Thought you were supposed to handle this kind of situation."

"That's what I'm doing," Ryan responded in a harsh tone.

Milton cocked his head. "Don't seem like it to me," he remarked coldly. "Now I've lost four men."

Ryan met the man's gaze. "And I'm going to do my damnedest to see no on else gets killed."

"Fuck, this ain't happening," muttered one of the loggers pathetically. "I got a kid on the way . . . now we're all gonna get ripped to shreds by some fucking werewolf whatever . . . ."

"He is not what you think he is," came Una's voice, rolling over the grumblings and mumblings of the men. All attention was instantly focused on the naked woman as she sat against the tree.

"The power he has stolen from me has corrupted him, making him feral," she continued. "He is acting according to his hatred for men like you, you who would rape the land. But he can be stopped . . ." her eyes pierced Ryan's. "If you can find the strength."

Milton suddenly charged forth, feet stomping upon the ground as he barreled down over Una. "I've had enough of your bullshit, you fucking cunt!" he cried, raising his hand to strike.

But the blow did not fall. His wrist was suddenly snared, caught by Ryan as he darted to stop the round-bodied man. For a moment, the two men glared at one another.

"Back. The fuck. Down," Ryan growled.

Milton quivered with rage, jerking his hand against Ryan's firm grip. Eventually, he relented, and stepped back. Ryan released his hold, and Milton rejoined his men, fuming quietly.

"Now, like I said, keep close and post watch," Ryan ordered. "As long as we're all alert, we'll get through this. Understood?"

Half-hearted nods and disjointed responses rolled forth from the men. Reluctantly, they -- including Martin Milton -- retreated down the dirt road, returning to their camps. Ryan listened as their comments faded away.

He breathed in deeply, let it out. This isn't going to turn out well, is it? he wondered, then turned and looked upon Una. "You okay?"

The corners of her mouth curled. "Are you my champion, now?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes, then eased himself to a sitting position before her. "We need to talk."

Her fierce green eyes dug into his. "You saw Steven," she said. "You saw what he has become."

"I'm not sure what I saw."

"Tell me."

Ryan was quiet a few moments, considering his thoughts. Part of him felt he was somehow being seduced into Una's psychosis, and that what he had seen was a result of that. But another part trusted the veracity of his own senses, and that what he had witnessed fit in with Una's fantasy world only because it was real.

"I know I shot him," Ryan said at last. "At least three times."

"But you did not kill him," Una said knowingly. "You couldn't have."

Ryan frowned. "Look. I don't care what kind of body armor a guy's wearing. Three loads of twelve-gauge shot at close range will take anyone down."

"Did it?"

Her piercing question had Ryan dropping his gaze. "No. I don't think so."

"Are you beginning to understand now?"

His eyes shot back up. "How about you drop the arrogance and tell me how to kill this guy?"

She did not flinch. "I have told you already."

Ryan laughed through his nose, shaking his head. "Right. The magic knife."

She regarded him with worry. "Are you afraid?"

He laughed, a short, rude sound. "Of course I am," he said. "I've killed before. They were all ordinary men. Some were more skilled than others, some were tougher than others. But none of them could take three rounds of lead shot to the chest, then get up and say they were gonna kill me."

"To that knife, he would be just as vulnerable as any other man."

He smiled wryly. "I don't generally like to get that close,' he said, then frowned in thought. "Say you're right about all this--"

"I am," Una said quickly, her small smile returning.

He chuckled. "Why would he make the knife, if he only meant to lock you up in chains?"

"I do not know," she answered. "When he showed it to me, it frightened me, and I thought at first, for some reason, that he had returned to slay me. But the knife, he said, was not for me."

Ryan's brow furrowed. "Did he say what it was for?"

She shook her head. "Perhaps . . ." she drifted off in thought for a moment. "Perhaps he crafted it as a precaution. In case he did not like what he would become as the result of taking my power."

"An escape plan," Ryan mused. "Just like a good soldier. Always have an exit strategy."

Una said nothing. Instead, she studied Ryan's face, reading him once more.

He stood abruptly, looking down upon her. "He's going to come here, isn't he?"

She nodded morosely. "Yes. His plan from the beginning was to reclaim this land and to slaughter anyone who would deign to take it."

Ryan responded with only a curt nod, then turned and headed to his tent. Facing away from Una and looking down toward the two camps to either side of the road, he took out his cigarettes and lit up. It had been hours since he'd had one; he could actually feel the tingling rush of nicotine as it hit his system a few minutes later. He actually smiled.

A glance to his phone reminded him there was no reception. This guy Steven probably knows that already, he thought. And he took out the phone at Milton's trailer. He's cut us off from the outside, unless we send someone back to the city . . .

. . . which we did, Ryan thought heavily. Shit. If this guy's waging his own guerrilla war, he would have anticipated that. Which means that I probably sent someone to certain death. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the vehicles down there have been disabled. God damn it. This guy's reading from the God damn black ops textbook on this one.

He pulled on his cigarette. But I've read that textbook, too . . . .

"Ryan?"

He turned at the sound of Una's voice. She was watching him, eyes liquid, lips parted and moist. There was something about her at that moment that belied a sense of vulnerability, and . . . arousal?

He tapped ash from his cigarette and faced her. "Yeah?"

She dipped her eyes briefly. "I would rather not be alone just now."

He cocked his head, trying to read her as she always seemed to be doing with him. He sucked on the cigarette, blew smoke, then stepped up to her again. "Why the sudden little girl routine?" he asked.

She laughed softly, cheeks coloring in the golden light of the nearby campfire. "I may be a wood spirit, but I am also a woman. Even I like to be comforted now and then."

"Fair enough," he said, then dropped the cigarette, grounding it out, and sat once more. "I guess now it's my turn to say that you're scared."

Her cheeks colored. "I have little to be afraid of in my life, but . . . yes, I am. And angry. At myself, at these people . . . I let things progress when they should not have."

Ryan nodded solemnly. "I know exactly what you mean."

She gave him a quizzical look.

He took a breath. "About four years ago, I was in Afghanistan. My squad was sent to investigate a village, look for signs of insurgents--" he read her frown and smiled in admonishment. "--the enemy," he corrected. "Anyway, we didn't find any. They were suspicious of us, and I can't blame them. Those people haven't known what it's like to not have a war going on in their country.

"My squad leader, he . . . there was a young woman in the village. Guess he thought she was pretty. I knew what he wanted, what he was going to do. I could have stopped him. At the least I could have gone in there when we heard her crying. But the others -- my fellow soldiers -- were standing guard outside the house. I still could have gone in. What would they have done? Shoot me? They probably would have restrained me, but at least I would have tried."

Ryan picked up a twig from the ground and pretended to study it. "He comes out when he's done, looking smug and satisfied. I felt disgusted. And then . . . .

"The woman comes out, yelling and screaming, holding a pistol. A little old Russian pistol. She points it at him, crying, angry. I wished at that moment that she would pull the trigger. But she didn't. Instead, squad leader takes out his sidearm and shoots her. Twice. He just raped her, and now he kills her."

"You feel it was your fault," Una said softly.

"No. But it was my responsibility," he said firmly. "We were there to look for the enemy, not rape women. And I let it happen."

He snapped the twig between his thumb and forefinger. "When we got back, my squad leader files a report that an insurgent was "found and neutralized." I requested a transfer to a different unit. It took about a month before that happened." He met Una's eyes. "Long enough for me to watch him get his nuts and left leg blown off by an RPG."

Una smiled at the irony. "Fate avenged the woman."

Ryan shrugged. "Maybe. I'm no expert on fate. Even after what happened to him, I still did the wrong thing. Even if it meant getting myself court-martialed, or hurt, or even killed, I should have stopped him."

Her eyes studied his. "Would it have been worth it, to save a woman you did not know?"

Ryan nodded without hesitation. "Yeah, it would have."

Again she smiled. "What did you say to me earlier?" she asked, then nodded to herself as she remembered. "Oh, yes. You are something else, Ryan Welch."

He chuckled despite the moment's mood. "And there are fewer and fewer of us as time moves on."

* * * *

The hours wore on into the night. Despite the threat prowling in the dark of the forest, the loggers became relaxed, telling themselves what had killed their fellow men was just a bear and that the Fish and Wildlife agent had killed it. Even the most frightened of the men convinced themselves of the sanity-saving theory. In the morning, they all reasoned, the authorities would arrive and everyone would go home.

Ryan remained on edge, and on alert, even as he and Una continued to talk. She did not reveal much about herself, but Ryan found himself opening up more readily than he had during PTSD therapy. He told her about his failed relationship with Melissa, and all those who had come before her. He shared his experiences in Afghanistan which, in a roundabout way, had contributed to his seeking a post with the Fish and Wildlife Service.

"I wanted to get away from the military, but still have a job where I could use a lot of what I learned," he explained. "It pays well, keeps me active, I spend a lot of time outdoors . . . and I don't have to worry about guns or bombs or whether someone is lying to me or not."

"Until now," Una pointed out.

He nodded sagely. "Until now," he agreed.

He checked his watch, to discover to his surprise that it was after eleven o'clock. The air was becoming colder as the humidity began to chill. While he did not shiver, being accustomed to many environments, he was surprised that Una, in her nudity, seemed not at all bothered by the drop in temperature. Although the dark pink cherries of her nipples appeared to pucker up a bit more.

"Ryan," she said after he had checked the time.

He looked to her, noting that her eyes were beyond him, toward the dirt road. He turned to see Milton and his flunky walking toward them, looking obviously haggard. The barrel-shaped Texan removed his hat to wipe a sweaty brow as the two men stopped several paces away.

"Looks like you're getting mighty cozy with the, uh, babe in the woods," Milton commented, revealing hints of both suspicion and jealousy in his words.

Ryan stood and faced them. "You come up here to give me more grief?" he asked bluntly.

Milton looked sheepish, fingering the brim of his hat. "No, I ain't like that," he said. "I said some mean words earlier, and I ain't proud of that. Just wanted to, well, make peace, I guess."

Ryan relaxed and stepped toward the men. His gaze was on Milton. "It's been a rough day for everyone," he said. He offered his hand. "We're gonna get through this."

Milton smiled crookedly, the weariness on his face evident. He took Ryan's hand and clutched it firmly for a moment before letting go. "I sure hope so."

"Mr. Welch, sir," said Billy, still clad in his suit. "Most of the men have retired for the night. I would be willing to remind them of your directive to keep watch, if you wish."

Ryan thought a moment, quickly calculating. He smiled casually. "I don't think it would matter," he said.

"So," Milton spoke up. He looked hopeful. "You think it was what they were all saying? Just a fucking bear or something?"

After a moment's hesitation, Ryan nodded, lips pursed and chin thrust out. "Think so."

Milton smiled, then, looking relieved. "Well, good," he exhaled. "Guess we can get some sleep, then."

Ryan slapped the beefy man on the shoulder. "Have at it," he said, then watched as the two men made their way back toward one of the camps.

"You understand what is going to happen," came Una's voice from behind him.

Ryan ground his teeth. "Yes."

"Steven will strike tonight."

"I don't doubt it." He turned just enough so that he could level his strong gaze upon her.

She stared back. "You cannot save them all."

His shoulders slumped a bit, and he turned fully to rejoin Una. "I know that," he admitted as he sat once more upon the dirt. "But I'll save who I can."

The air passed between them, thick and cool. Ryan traced random patterns in the dirt with his finger. Una watched him.

Finally, she spoke. "Ryan."

He responded without looking up. "Yeah."

"Will you kiss me?"

He stopped his unmotivated tracing and lifted his head, brow furrowed. "What?"

She smiled seductively and reclined back against the tree. Her manacled hands lay to either side of her hips, and she parted one thigh away from the other. Ryan could not help but allow his gaze to be drawn down the nymph's uncommonly tantalizing body. The firmness of her lower belly gave way to the soft patch of golden-hued hair upon her pubic mound, beneath which lay succulent pink labia framed in equally golden curls. Despite the fact that Una had been naked all this time, this was the first real view of her sex that Ryan enjoyed.

"Kiss me," she said again, eyes glowing like tiny emerald beacons. "There is no one to see us. They have all succumbed to the night."

Ryan shifted, feeling the pressure in his groin as he hardened. "Steven could come at any moment--"

"Then we have no time to waste," she interrupted. Her chest rose and fell, nipples darkening upon firm, upturned breasts. Rouge spread across the base of her throat, belying arousal.

Still, Ryan hesitated, despite his own feelings of longing. "We can't," he said.

She all but glared back. "We will," she said firmly. She uncurled her legs and pushed up, settling her back against the tree behind her. The chains hanging from the manacles about her wrists jangled, ringing through the air. Una spaced her feet apart and pushed out her hips, almost obscenely offering her golden-furred sex.

Ryan fought against the arousal which gripped him. He stood before the woman, looking upon her with one part fierce resistance, another part desperate eagerness. Their eyes met. Una's lips parted as she breathed in and out. In that moment, she was so much more obviously sexual than any woman Ryan had known in his life. That she wanted him could not have been more evident.

In an instant, as if compelled by some supernatural spell, the two halves of Ryan's mind fused together. Fierce resistance and desperate eagerness blended, becoming fierce eagerness. He stepped close and reached out, slipping a hand behind her head. Una's lips glistened invitingly.

"Take me," she whispered.

Ryan said nothing. He leaned in, cupping her face with his hands, and kissed Una deeply, tasting a surprisingly sweet, fresh flavor upon her lips, her breath. He moaned, feeling his body react. He pushed against her, and her hands wandered about him amid the jangling of chains. His lips sucked hers into his mouth; his tongue danced against hers.

slyc_willie
slyc_willie
1,342 Followers