Page 2 of Feral

The fear that had kept me silent, that had kept me cowering and obedient for so many years, shattered. The terror that had wrapped itself around me since I knew what it was burned away in an instant. And in its place was a cold, sharp fury that surged through my blood.

I reached for the knife on the table, my fingers trembling as I wrapped them around the rough, splintered wooden handle. The blade was still wet with the juice of the root vegetables I had chopped for the stew. The dull edge caught the firelight, thepitted metal shining briefly as I brought it up. I hated that I shook, my fear and nerves controlling me.

But I reined in my control and calmed myself.

And then I was moving on instinct, driven by a survival rage that drowned out everything else.

For a second, he just stood there and stared at me. And then he lunged, his eyes wild, his teeth bared. When he was almost on me, I plunged the blade into his chest, the resistance intense before it made way like I was cutting into a slab of meat. There was a wet, sickening crunch, and the metal slipped between his ribs and sank deep into his body.

I felt the thickness of muscle and the hardness of bone, felt the vibration of the knife handle in my grip as I twisted the blade and screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks, completely raw and filled with pain. My breath came in short, shallow gasps, my heart hammering in my chest.

His eyes bulged wide as he looked down at where the handle stuck out of him. When he looked at me again, his mouth fell open, a choking gurgle coming out. He tried to speak as he stumbled back, his knees buckling, his dirty fingers gripping at the handle of the knife still buried in his chest.

I watched in this almost haze, mesmerized as my own breath froze. And when he collapsed to the floor, his body hitting the wood with a dull, finalthud, I found it beautiful as the firelight cast his form in a long, twisted shadow against the cracked and smoke-stained stone walls.

For a few seconds, I just stood staring down at my dead father, my pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat in my ears. His eyes, wide and glassy… lifeless, stared up at the ceiling, his mouth slack, his lips flecked with blood. I looked down at my fingers, the warmth of his blood clinging to my skin.

Before I thought too much about it, I moved closer to my father until I smelled the coppery scent of his death in mynose. I stood over him, my hands clenched at my sides, my legs trembling, my knees threatening to buckle. The world felt distant, the air around me thick and muffled like I’d been dropped in the middle of a pool of water and was sinking to the bottom.

My mind was empty, an echoing cavern, as I stared down at the man who had been my enemy from day one. He thought he’d broken me, and maybe parts of me he had. But like a weed—a misplaced flower—I continued to grow.

I watched in awe as his blood stained the planks of the wooden floor.

I waited for the fear to settle in, the panic and horror that I’d just killed someone… my father. But there was no crushing weight of guilt. All I felt was a strange numbness, a cold, empty void where my fear had once lived. My heart slowed, my pulse steadying, and my breaths came in even intervals as I crouched and got a closer look of my father.

I didn't realize I was doing it until I had the handle in my hand and was pulling the blade out. It was harder than I thought it would be, and as soon as the metal was out, blood seeped out of the wound like an open line.

When I released the knife, the blade clattered against the floor. I stepped back, the blood starting to make a slow trek toward my bare feet.

Slowly, methodically, I wiped the blood from my fingers on the edge of my clothing. And then I turned, my steps slow and deliberate, the world around me moving in a strange, detached blur as I started to clean up. I grabbed a threadbare blanket off his chair, and without thinking, I draped the material over my father’s body as if that would conceal what I’d done.

With my mind still blurred and distant, I crossed the room, my bare feet whispering against the floor as I cleaned up, washing away any proof of what I’d just done. And then Isank onto my thin, straw pallet, the rough fur my only barrier, scratchy against my skin.

I lay down, my eyes staring up at the beams above, my heartbeat slow and calm, and my mind clearing the longer I lay there.

And when I finally closed my eyes, I realized—for the first time in my life—I felt… peace.

2

KATRINA

Ididn't know what woke me, but as I tried to wake, knowing it was still late and the sunrise was hours away, I knew something felt… off.

And then I heard it. Someone was on the other side of the closed bedroom door. The wood floors creaked under their weight. The splintering groan that cut through the room seemed so loud in the still quietness of the cabin, but it sounded louder than anything I’d ever heard.

My blood rushed in my ears and panic strangled in my throat. I hadn’t killed my father. He was up and coming to hurt me, to make me pay for what I’d done.

I pushed myself up on my straw mattress, the fur blanket slipping from my shoulders as the door suddenly crashed inward, the hinges screeching in protest as it was ripped from its frame.

I screamed and stood, scrambling back against the wall and trying to grab anything I could use as a weapon. My heart raced so hard it hurt in my chest, and all I saw was darkness.

Shadows flooded the small, cramped space, massive forms flooding into the room and blotting out the slight, palemoonlight that filtered through the thin material that covered the lone window.

They weren’t humans. They couldn’t be given their sheer size and distorted body parts, monstrous shapes with twisted, gnarled limbs, and eyes that glowed like the stars that dotted the inky sky stared right at me.

One of them hissed, and the longer I stared, the more my vision adjusted to the shadows. I made out jagged, yellowed fangs and skin that was rough, scarred, and an eerie shade of green. It stood just mere feet in front of me.

I tried to scream again, but when I opened my mouth, nothing came out. All was silent. Instead, what I heard next was a strangled growl as a massive body charged forward, and a scaled hand closed around my arm, its claws digging into my flesh. I did find my voice then.

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