súton (n.) || the approach of death or the end of something

afraid to open her eyes.

When the silence ensued, she was horrified at what she would see so she prolonged the moment behind her eyelids while she held her breath. It felt calm around her and she inhaled a shuddering breath when her lungs ached for air. At this point, everything within her body ached.

She felt fur shifting against her bare arms and goosebumps arose in the wake. A wet nose pressed against her cheek and a low whine called to her, almost so inaudible that it couldn't be heard. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. What had felt like an eternity with her eyes closed was only a matter of seconds, tiny seconds that ticked in the change of her life.

She saw a cloud of smoke floating away from the scene, leaving a sob to crawl its way into her throat. Cross was collapsed on top of her father and neither of them were moving. Her heart lurched painfully and tears obscured her vision. She assumed the worst, her wolf was dead or her father was or both. She almost didn't want to know which one.

There was movement and she fought through the tears to watch. Cross raised his head, seemingly shaking his head, once, twice, as if his ears were ringing, and then he slowly stood up. He glanced down at her father, shook his fur, and then his brown eyes connected with hers. She inhaled sharply as he walked over to her. For a moment, she relieved that he was alive until her eyes fell to his muzzle and she saw blood.

Her father's blood.

She was immobile, frozen to her spot. She didn't even know what she was feeling anymore. There had been so many emotions coursing through her, she felt utterly drained and wanted nothing more than to hide in her bed, wishing this nightmare away.

Cross nudged her cheek with his nose, probably checking to see if she was okay, and she wasn't. She broke from her reverie and crawled towards her fallen father with a tightened throat. She couldn't describe the feeling coursing through her body as she gazed down at her father.

He was dead.

Cross had went for the kill, latching into his throat, and her father's lifeless eyes stared into the sky, his mouth agape in a silent cry for help. She couldn't even sob. Silent tears tore jagged trails down her cheeks and she numbly wrapped her fingers around his. His hand was still warm, the gun laying abandon a few inches away. She shakily reached out with her other hand and gently closed his eyelids.

How could this happen?

A few moments ago, her father had been perfectly alive and if her wolves hadn't showed up, she would be wrapped up in his embrace. As she always was. She drew another breath, just barely. Her entire body was in shock and she was ready to succumb to a comforting darkness.

Though, she never passed out. She leaned down until her head touched his arm and she mourned through heart wrenching sobs and an ocean of salty tears. She didn't know how long she stayed there. Hours maybe, she didn't care.

It wasn't until her tears dried out that she could finally hear the low whines of distress around her. She slowly lifted her head, which throbbed painfully, and she shifted her eyes towards her wolves. They had obviously stayed through her mourning, most of them laying a few feet away and watching her with sorrowful eyes. Obviously, they knew her pain.

Skeet was the only one brave enough to venture closer and he sat at her side. She could feel his body warmth seeping into her frozen body. When had she become so cold? It wasn't cold outside, in fact, the sun bore down on them in heated intensity. For such a horrible accident, the day was bright and sunny above them, almost a complete mocking.

It had been an accident that cost her father his life. Was she the one to blame? As her mind slowly began working, she had so many thoughts floating about. She wondered if there could have been a way around this devastation. If she could have somehow avoided it.

She remembered the day the wolf had attacked her in the forest. It had been the perfect day for a picnic. She remembered her mother putting together the basket in the kitchen and she and her sister fought over who would wear the prettiest sundress. She remembered the sweet aroma of freshly brewed tea and helping making peanut butter sandwiches.

It was the perfect picnic until a snarl consumed their world. She had watched her mother die protecting her sister and when the beast leaped to take her sisters life, her father told her to run. She had cried, terrified, but she grabbed her teddy bear and took off into the woods. The wolf had caught her, as it always did, and when it wrapped its jaws around her neck, she had thought it was the end. It should have been.

But, something in the wolf's eyes flashed and there was hesitation. In that small moment, it was a revelation. The wolf could have finished the job but it stared down at her and then it slowly retreated back into the shadows, as though it was content that they would meet again. As if there was a purpose.

She only remembered her father applying pressure to her neck, his hysterical crying, and then darkness. It always ended in darkness, right?

Suddenly, she heard a police siren wailing.

As if it snapped reality back into her mind, she straightened and listened. There was no where else the police could be heading but her house. Nothing much happened in her town and the gunshot was probably heard in town, raising suspicion.

Thoughts flurried across her mind. Esther would be heartbroken and blame her, she couldn't run to her for safety. Parson would know that it was no accident. Avery would see her as a monster if she ever knew the truth.She couldn't simply explain that the wolves killed him, that would put her wolves as a target and they would be killed within a month. She couldn't say that she raised them, nobody would believe her.

No, from an outside view, she was the murderer of her father. She would be convicted and thrown into jail for her actions. She couldn't do that, her wolves needed her. She took one last glance at her father before she shakily stood to her feet with the help of Skeet balancing her. Her wolves perked at her movement, raising their heads.

She stumbled into the house. There was no other option for her. Again, she was forced to decide on something that she couldn't change. She grabbed her backpack from beneath her bed and began packing the essentials. Food, clothes, some money, and finally she took the picture frame of her father and her playing in a pile of leaves. In that picture, her father had thrown her sister into the leaves as she giggled and he was throwing her next. They were all smiling. The only person missing was her mother, who took the picture, but she tapped a little cut out of her in the bottom corner, just to make the picture complete.

She stuffed the frame into her backpack and then she headed back outside. By that time, she heard the police sirens about a hundred yards away. There was no time. She said her final goodbye to her father, asking for his forgiveness for her actions, and then she turned to her wolves. They watched her with calculating and questioning eyes.

She didn't know what else to do.

So, she ran.

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