Jason, his breath visible in the chilly air, glances at Supatra. Their determined strides mirrored a relentless pursuit to find Lángrén. The two bet they were headed in a general direction or risk pissing Antonio off. The apocalyptic world around them bore the scars of an unstoppable and unpredictable werewolf uprising.
Supatra’s face, usually etched with an air of mystery, held a solemnity that matched the gravity of the task at hand. Her eyes gazed into the distance as if searching for signs to lead to Lángrén. The rhythmic pounding of their footsteps echoed against the concrete and asphalt, a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the forsaken highway. Above, the overcast sky painted a canvas of muted grays, an oppressive backdrop to the journey that unfolded beneath.
As Jason and Supatra jogged, the uncertainty of their pursuit mingled with the echoes of Lángrén’s tale. A palpable tension hung in the air, connecting the threads of their stories, each strand leading to an unknown convergence. Their eyes noticed the once-bustling highway now lay in ruins, its asphalt cracked and littered with debris. Cars, once symbols of progress, were torn apart like playthings by monstrous forces that had ravaged the land. Aside from a quiet rush of wind, and the sense of nature’s corruption surrounding them, there’s no traffic. No engines running. No movement. A muffled silence hung in the air.
As they ventured further, the grim reality unfolded before them. The remnants of humans were marred by scenes of unimaginable horror. Lifeless bodies, contorted in agonizing poses, were trapped within the twisted metal carcasses of their vehicles. The once-vibrant souls were now victims of unspeakable violence, their flesh torn and shredded by the merciless teeth and fangs of beasts that stalked these forsaken grounds.
The putrid smell of death and decay mixed with the acrid smell of burnt fuel and smoldering metal, creating an atmosphere of death and despair. The eerie stillness was broken only by the distant echoes of birdsong, carrying with them the mournful whispers of a lost world. Each step forward took them past cars, ripped and torn asunder. Jason noted an abundance of flies with plenty of bodies to land on. This nightmarish landscape felt familiar to them.
The two wolves paced through the stretch of expressway; their steps unaffected by the chaos that surrounded them. The essence of ruin, death, and destruction seemed woven into the fabric of their beings, and they moved through the horrors as if it were their normal daily existence.
They paid no heed to the grotesque scenes that unfolded before their eyes—scorched earth, twisted and gnarled bodies, and rivers of crimson blood that cascaded through broken glass windows and asphalt. The destruction was nothing more than mere background noise to their eyes.
Their eyes glinted with perverse delight as they passed by shattered corpses, where vehicles sat like jagged teeth in a mouth of decay, their tires deflated under the weight of dine and dash nightmares. In the wake of the corrosion, they were mashed with drinks of fetid breath from ferals and werewolves.
Amidst the journey, the pair thrived, their senses attuned to the scent of fear, the taste of prey, and the symphony of rampaging ferals in the far distance. To them, ruin was a canvas upon which they painted their malefic desires, and death was an ever-present companion, whispering promises of eternal darkness. A necessity in obedience to Get of Fenris. For them, this unleashed tsunami of wolves was not a place of horror, but a realm they called home—a domain where the lifeblood that coursed through their veins reigned supreme.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Jason and Supatra navigated through the autumn landscape, their footsteps echoing in the crisp air. The sound of chirping birds filled the atmosphere, adding a touch of serenity to the scene.
Supatra shivered, feeling the chill of the season. She longed for a comforting embrace of rain, hoping it would wash away the cold that seemed to seep into her hair.
Jason, always one to inject humor into any situation, couldn’t resist making a snarky comment.
“It’s too cold,” he remarked playfully. “I don’t think we have time for a quickie to warm you up.”
Supatra rolled her eyes, accustomed to Jason’s playful banter. “Is that all you ever think about?” she retorted, feigning exasperation. She felt a frisson of anticipation and excitement.
Jason’s tone softened as he looked at her with genuine affection. “Only when I see you,” he confessed. “Your nips always reflect your mood. Or the weather. I like you. Because you’re a good woman... and that’s exotic to me.”
Their exchange was interrupted as they came across an overturned vehicle. Deep claw marks marred the hood and door, and the shattered window revealed the violence that had taken place. They moved forward with purpose, striding away from the scene of destruction, their determination unwavering. The echoes of their footsteps reminded them of their resilience and shared bond. They leapt over an overturned vehicle. The window was ripped out. They strode with purpose away from the decimation.
Casually observing, Supatra commented, “Looks like the ferals came through here.”
Jason nodded in agreement. “In a way, I agree with Antonio. Humans have become our enemies of this world. They are shameless people who destroy everything. I see why Antonio allowed the Omega wolves to unlock the Ferals.”
“I know. I agree. They are covetous, greedy, selfish. They will never win until the people themselves want to fight for freedom.” Her voice reeked of disappointment. “The evil nature of men and how filthy they are compared to the light is despicable”.
The wind whipped through the skeletal remains of vehicles. Among the wreckage, fire trucks lay battered and torn, their once vibrant red exteriors now marred by jagged scars. An empty ambulance stood as a grim sentinel, its doors flung wide open, forever waiting for the injured souls who would never arrive. The remnants of medical supplies lay scattered on the ground, now exposed to the elements, their intended purpose rendered obsolete.
She continued talking as her mind sought to reconcile her nature with human nature. “How, and why, the Creator holds to some sort of ineffable plan for them is beyond me. I can understand why the ferals are loose. To punish their innate evil ways. Their affront to the Creator. They are grotesque creatures. They cloak themselves under the distortion of religious ideals.”
Supatra spoke as the sun hung low, casting an eerie glow upon the expressway’s asphalt. As far as the eye could see, the once bustling lanes were a haunting graveyard of abandoned cars and vehicles. Rows upon rows of twisted metal and shattered glass stretched for miles. Vehicles with mangled human bodies stood as macabre reminders of the feral horrors that had unfolded. The once living beings, now lifeless and partially devoured, lay twisted within the metal cages that had become their graves. The stench of decay permeated the air, mingling with the acrid scent of burnt rubber and fuel. Flies and insects snaked in and out through shattered windshields in an all-you-can-decompose feast.