Curses child POV...
"Vicious wolves!"
That scream ripped out of my throat like my soul was being dragged out with it, raw, hoarse, and absolutely pathetic, but at that moment I truly did not care, because I was running—running like my life depended on it, because it did.
Every frantic step dug into the burning sand beneath my feet as I tried, desperately and foolishly, to put as much distance as humanly—or monstrously —possible between myself and whatever monstrous horror was chasing me from behind.
I could hear myself screaming, loud enough to tear my own ears apart, my voice echoing across the dunes like a dying animal's final wail, and I didn't need a mirror to know my face must've been twisted into something ugly, something filled with pure, undiluted terror. My chest burned, my lungs screamed, and my heart hammered so violently I thought it might explode right out of my ribcage.
Then it happened.
