When Iris finally stopped walking, her paws felt numb from the cold snow. Her fur fluffed up, spiking out in every direction, and her still fresh wounds were stained with dried blood that stung with every step she took. She couldn’t take it anymore. With a cry of despair, she yowled into the cold, unforgiving air. Her voice echoed back at her, lonely and hollow. Finally, she collapsed into the snow, curling into a small, tight ball.
Iris knew it wouldn’t be long until a predator found her. But what was the point in moving? Her own Skulk betrayed her because of an accident that wasn’t even her fault. Or was it? She didn’t know anymore. At this point, she didn’t care. Her loved ones had turned their backs on her, and Onyx—she was sure he was trying to kill her. The look in his amber eyes still made her shiver. Why did he look so angry, so bloodthirsty?
The snow pressed cold and sharp against her wounds, but she didn’t move. She lay there for what seemed like an hour. Somehow, she had fallen asleep. A piercing howl startled her awake, and she yelped softly as she scrambled to her paws, wincing at the pain. Her heart pounded in her chest as the howls grew closer, echoing in the frigid night air. She forgot all about the part where she said she didn’t care. She cared a lot. She still wanted to live—for some odd reason.
Another loud howl split the air. Then another, and another. Pawsteps crunched through the snow, coming from every direction. Her head whipped around, her eyes scanning the dark forest, and then she saw them: dark brown eyes staring back at her, gleaming with hunger. More eyes appeared, one by one, each pair fixed on her with the same ravenous intensity.
Coyotes.
Her breath quickened, puffing out in visible bursts that mixed with the icy air. “Oh no,” she whimpered softly. Her paws shifted nervously as she backed up, her ears pinned flat against her head and her fur fluffing up more than ever. She turned to run, but a low growl made her freeze. More coyotes emerged from the shadows, blocking every possible escape route. She was surrounded.
The coyotes’ thin, matted bodies moved closer, their ribs visible beneath their scraggly fur. Teeth bared, saliva dripping from their jaws, they advanced with slow, deliberate steps. Their eyes held a single, terrifying thought: food.
Iris’s body trembled as panic rose inside her like a tidal wave. Her claws scraped against the frozen ground, her mind racing. This couldn’t be the end—not here, not like this. She wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.
Without warning, the coyotes lunged. All. Of. Them.
Iris reacted instinctively. She leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of the first coyote. Her wounds screamed in protest as she hit the ground, but she forced herself to keep moving. Her heart pounded as she darted toward a small gap in the circle of predators. The coyotes snarled, their sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight as they scrambled after her.
“Think, Iris, think!” she hissed under her breath, her paws slipping slightly on the icy ground. She spotted a cluster of low-hanging branches nearby. If she could just reach them, she might have a chance.
With a burst of energy, Iris veered toward the branches. She lunged upward, claws digging into the bark as she scrambled to pull herself out of reach. A coyote snapped at her tail, missing by mere inches. She climbed higher, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she perched precariously on a branch. Below her, the coyotes circled, their eyes gleaming with frustration and hunger.
Iris clung to the branch, her body trembling from exertion and fear. The coyotes paced below, growling and snapping at each other in frustration. For now, she was safe. But how long could she stay up here? And where could she go next?
Her mind raced as she tried to come up with a plan. One thing was certain: she couldn’t stay here forever. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to outsmart them—and fast.
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