Keep running, Picket. Don’t look behind you.

Heather spun around to face the two chasing her, feeling all too brave for someone outnumbered. But she had the upper hand with her familiarity of the terrain.

“She’s smiling,” the one at the back said–a monstrous brute with a cruel scar over his eye, making the eye a ghastly, crimson red. The color of the ribbon Heather had used in her Starseek games. She didn’t like the familiarity of the shade. “She is, perhaps, honored to be eaten by us?” His mocking, teeth-filled smile vanished, and Heather felt her blood run cold at the cruel, calculated look he gave her. “Give her the terms.”

Her eyes darted to the one next to him. “Yes, Captain,” the other one said in a high-pitched, frenzied voice. The bloodlust in his eyes made Heather feel even tinier before them. “Alright, Food, come with us easylike–and you’ll live, for now. Struggle, and we’re allowed to kill you.”

She needed to struggle. She told Picket she would meet him at the third mound.

“Please, do struggle,” the leading wolf said in a cool, collected tone. Heather’s eyes darted to him, and back to the second wolf. She was being surrounded. The second was moving to flank her right, and the leader to her. A triangle, with her as the third point. She only had one shot at running, but she needed to bide her time.

“You believe you have me, but you don’t,” Heather said in the strongest voice she could muster. “Not yet. I know this thicket. I can disappear before you know which way to look.”

The captain laughed, a horrible grating sound. Heather shivered at the sound.

“So, it talks?” the captain sneered, his discolored eye glowing eerily. “That’s just… precious.”

“I talk, yes,” she said. “And I’ll not go quietly. I’ll bite back before I’m finished.” Her words felt empty, and she was sure the wolves knew, judging by their laughter.

“Well, Captain,” the young wolf said, muscles tensing slightly, “at least we’ve had some entertainment.”

“Your pride is your weakness,” Heather said, recalling one of Father’s favorite maxims. He seemed to say it a lot to himself, or use it for an important lesson—like when Heather thought she could dangle from the railing with only her blanket.

The younger wolf let out a keening howl. She flinched back. “Let me finish her, Captain,” he said. “She shames us.”

“Only if we let her,” the captain motioned for his companion to remain calm. “I’m intrigued by you…there seems to be quite a bit of fight in these parts—perhaps it runs in your blood.”

Heather finally felt true, icy fear. Had they truly done something to her family? She tried to stop the images of her family lying dead, but they came in a horrible, grim rush.

“It’s odd that traitors and deserters would be the least bit bold.”

“We’re not traitors or deserters,” Heather said quickly, though she wasn’t sure what she was trying to justify. Traitors? Deserters? She had never questioned her mother or her father’s origins, so the wolf’s words could very well be true—but she doubted they were. Perhaps another trick to keep her distracted.

“Then what are you doing so far from home?” the captain asked. She felt a flash of confusion. “And in such questionable company?”

“This is home,” she said, unsure what the wolf was trying to communicate. Stalling, he had to be stalling. She needed to run soon. Surely Picket was at the third mound by now.

“They have given you lives for every meal, child. You have swallowed them and asked for more,” he said, flashing a sharp-toothed smile at her, filled with bloodlust. She took a panicked, uneasy step back, and the younger wolf did a slight lunge. Heather flinched. “Your father is a coward and a liar and a traitor.”

What?

She looked down for a second, her hands shaking. Perhaps the wolves took this as a sign of resignation, and they began to step forward, preparing to take her forward. Heather had to make a decision. A split-second decision. Heart pounding in her throat, just as the wolves shared a victorious glance, she crouched down, and jumped up in a flash.

It didn’t work.

Heather didn’t know what went wrong. Perhaps the wolf had been truly anticipating her move. The younger, frenzied wolf snapped at her arm, and his teeth sunk into her arm, pinning her into place. Her plan hadn’t worked. She was trapped.

She screamed at the sudden bite of pain, and there was the snarl of the captain to let her go. Blood leaked all over her dress.

“Nice try, little rabbit doe,” the leader snarled. “You’re truly a bold one. But we have you now.”

Heather closed her eyes for a few brief seconds, praying that Picket was safe and in hiding, like she had told him to do, and struggled to her feet, hand desperately holding onto her injured arm. “Fine,” she coughed out. There was no fake courage in her tone, just utter defeat.

The wolves shared another triumphant smile, and the leader ordered the younger one off to round up fleeing folk. Her heart dropped when she realized that that meant Picket.

Please, please, Picket—be safe. Don’t stop running.

Heather knew she couldn’t run anymore.

She was captured.

It felt so strange. Just a few moments before, the two O’Nick siblings had been picking berries and laughing, wondering why there was a strange lady in their home. They hadn’t expected this. Heather’s eyes fell to the smoke rising into the air–straight from the schoolhouse that she and Picket would trek to nearly every day for years. Was everyone getting rounded up and captured?

Just down the crest of the hill–that was their main camp. If it could even be called that. It looked more like a horrible scene. Heather stared as she was marched down–she recognized old Farmer Elric, blood staining the forefront of his shirt. She saw tiny little Elise, and the Whittaker mother, missing her three children and husband–but she didn’t see her family.

“Move,” the leader growled out. She stumbled down the hill, joining the cluster of wolves and captured rabbits. She frantically scanned the familiar clusters of Nick Hollow folk, searching for her family–even just one.

The leader released her, and she stumbled into the cluster. There was a soft murmur from Mrs. Whittaker as she took in Heather’s disheveled and wounded appearance, but everyone remained silent and stock still, fearing the prowling wolf guards.

They weren’t here. A sob rose up in her throat, and she pressed her good hand to her mouth. She looked around her, some vain hope rising up in her that she desperately clung onto, and her eyes were drawn to the hill—the direction of where her home was. Had been. Smoke still filled the air—and there it was, a cluster of wolves leading two rabbits down—three.

Mother, Father, and Baby Jacks. It had to be.

True hope swelled inside of her when she saw it was indeed Father and Mother and Baby Jacks, but it dimmed slightly when she saw how horrible they looked. Father was covered in blood, perhaps his own, perhaps someone else’s. Mother was clinging onto Baby Jacks, whispering a soothing song under her breath to him. She barely even glanced at the group of rabbits, Heather included.

Heather was tempted to run towards them. She didn’t. She felt frozen in place, watching them. She hoped they would glance her way.

Father caught her eye, and his eyes widened. Not in gladness that she was alive, but in horror that she was even here. He gently shook his head, warning her not to do anything rash. She just needed to stay put—that was what his eyes were communicating.

Heather didn’t know how much time passed, but eventually—there was a sharp howl. The wolves stirred, agitated, as the leader broke through the trees, joined by his comrades.

“What happened?” one of the guards growled out.

“It was him,” the red-eyed leader spat out. “The heir and his pathetic guardian.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Heather could see Father’s head **** up slightly, like he knew what they were talking about. Mother’s eyes were visibly wider now.

“And you fled?” the guard snorted, morbid amusement tinging his tone. “No wonder you resorted to the howl of shame.”

Heather inhaled sharply as there was a sharp stabbing of pain on her wounded arm. Her hand was slick with blood. She found it hard to draw her eyes away from the ongoing argument.

“You dare question my authority?” the red-eyed leader growled out.

“Perhaps I do,” the guard snapped back.

There was a flash of claws, and the guard had a visible red wound on his face. “Anyone else?” the red-eyed leader demanded, glaring imperiously at the wolves. No one said anything. The air was thick with tension.

“Good,” he growled.

“Now we move to Akolan.”

A/N: This is a bit of an experiment since I'm not really used to writing Heather and Picket, but the AU has been fun to write and it's definitely grown on me. I also posted this on FFN (currently at 6 chapters) but I thought I would upload them here as well. Hope you enjoyed!