Haven Prologue
I am finally getting around to actually writing my story, but being not at all pleased with what I have so far I am posting it all over the place in hopes of getting some useful reviews. Therefore, I present the prologue of Haven, with chapter one soon to follow.
Wolf
Run.
She wills herself to keep going, although her legs ache and her lungs scream for air. She can hear the men close behind her, even over her own panting breaths and the frantic beating of her heart. Blood stains her fur. Even now a part of her wants to go home; to find comfort in her father's arms. A bullet ricochets off a tree just to her right, and she would laugh at herself if she could. All she can do is keep running.
Water. The sound draws her forward, until she emerges from the trees at the bank of the river. Her family used to picnic here. Now it may save her life. If she can get across, the hunters will have to go a mile upstream to reach the nearest bridge. She knows these woods. By the time they get back here she'll be long gone. She refuses to think about what she'll do next.
Gathering her powerful legs beneath her, she leaps.
She feels the shot before she hears it. The bullet tears through her left shoulder, dropping her on the near bank. She can only listen as three sets of footsteps approach. She can't turn her head to look, but she knows what she would see. Colin Owens, 16, trying to look tough but shaking like a leaf at the proximity of his prey. Alan Owens, his typically jovial features now grim. In front, as always, would be Alan's brother-in-law, Michael Jennis. He would be the one who'd hit her. He never missed. Father and son stop at a slight distance while Michael's soft steps continue; the nearly silent tread of an experienced hunter. The barrel of his gun is pressed to the top of her head.
"Consider yourself lucky, beast." She has never heard his voice so full of hate. "You'll die here, rather than in some scientist's lab. Your suffering ends now." His voice almost seems to crack, but he was never a man to let emotions get in his way. "My last gift to the thing that was once my daughter."
She waits for him to pull the trigger; instead, she hears a scream that is abruptly cut short. The gun is swung away and four shots are fired in quick succession. All is suddenly silent. At the edge of her vision she can see a pool of blood slowly spreading. Water swirls around her paws. With the last of her strength she pulls herself into the river, and drifts into unconsciousness as she is carried swiftly downstream.
Wolf
Run.
She wills herself to keep going, although her legs ache and her lungs scream for air. She can hear the men close behind her, even over her own panting breaths and the frantic beating of her heart. Blood stains her fur. Even now a part of her wants to go home; to find comfort in her father's arms. A bullet ricochets off a tree just to her right, and she would laugh at herself if she could. All she can do is keep running.
Water. The sound draws her forward, until she emerges from the trees at the bank of the river. Her family used to picnic here. Now it may save her life. If she can get across, the hunters will have to go a mile upstream to reach the nearest bridge. She knows these woods. By the time they get back here she'll be long gone. She refuses to think about what she'll do next.
Gathering her powerful legs beneath her, she leaps.
She feels the shot before she hears it. The bullet tears through her left shoulder, dropping her on the near bank. She can only listen as three sets of footsteps approach. She can't turn her head to look, but she knows what she would see. Colin Owens, 16, trying to look tough but shaking like a leaf at the proximity of his prey. Alan Owens, his typically jovial features now grim. In front, as always, would be Alan's brother-in-law, Michael Jennis. He would be the one who'd hit her. He never missed. Father and son stop at a slight distance while Michael's soft steps continue; the nearly silent tread of an experienced hunter. The barrel of his gun is pressed to the top of her head.
"Consider yourself lucky, beast." She has never heard his voice so full of hate. "You'll die here, rather than in some scientist's lab. Your suffering ends now." His voice almost seems to crack, but he was never a man to let emotions get in his way. "My last gift to the thing that was once my daughter."
She waits for him to pull the trigger; instead, she hears a scream that is abruptly cut short. The gun is swung away and four shots are fired in quick succession. All is suddenly silent. At the edge of her vision she can see a pool of blood slowly spreading. Water swirls around her paws. With the last of her strength she pulls herself into the river, and drifts into unconsciousness as she is carried swiftly downstream.