The thick forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze and the faint crackle of a low, smokey fire. Eira found herself tied securely to a tree, the rough bark pressing against her back. The cords around her wrists and torso were tight, making movement nearly impossible. But, to her relief, he hadn’t reapplied the makeshift muzzle. That was something, at least.

  The man, Emmett, she reminded herself, savoring the way his name sounded, was crouched a few feet away, methodically pouring water from his canteen into a battered metal cup. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. Instead, he approached her with a glare that could have cut through steel.

  “Drink.” He barked, shoving the cup toward her muzzle.

  Eira complied, tilting her head to take slow sips. She caught his scowl out of the corner of her eye, and a mischievous smile crept onto her face. When the cup was nearly empty, she pulled back just slightly, enough to let a small amount of water dribble from her lips onto her uniform.

  “Oops.” She said sweetly, her accent lilting with mock innocence.

  Emmett’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He tossed the empty cup aside and grabbed a chunk of the ration bar he’d been gnawing on earlier. With as little grace as he could muster, he practically shoved it into her mouth.

  “Chew.” He muttered, watching her like a hawk as she worked the dry, tasteless food.

  She swallowed, flashing him a toothy grin. “Danke, Herr Emmett.” She said, her tone syrupy sweet.

  Emmett shot her a glare before turning his back on her and settling down against a tree. He dropped onto the ground, with a groan, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion.

  “I need to sleep.” He said bluntly, running a hand down his face. “I haven’t slept in three days now.”

  Eira tilted her head, her ears twitching slightly. “Three days?” She repeated, feigning concern. “Oh, poor little Emmett. Such a hard life you live.”

  He didn’t respond, though his scowl deepened. Instead, he stood, retrieving the tranquilizer gun from where it rested on his pack. He checked the dart chamber, his movements slow but deliberate, and then turned back to her, leveling the weapon in her direction.

  “Do I need to use this?” He asked, his voice low and tired, though the threat in his tone was unmistakable.

  Eira’s eyes flicked between the gun and the man, her smile widening. “Oh, no.” She said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “I’ll be good.”

  Emmett didn’t look convinced. He narrowed his eye at her for a long moment before grunting and setting the gun down within arm’s reach.

  “Right.” He muttered, sinking back down pulling his poncho tight over himself. He stretched out on the dirt, folding his arms against his chest.

  “Just remember… Eira,” He said, her name rolling off his tongue with heavy sarcasm, as though saying it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “Either of us gets caught by the Reds, and things will be bad on both ends.” He rolled over, his back to her, signaling that the conversation was over.

  Eira leaned her head back against the tree, her piercing blue eyes watching him carefully. She knew he was right in that regard.

  “Damn this man.” She muttered under her breath in German, her tail flicking against the dirt in irritation.

  Emmett didn’t react, his breathing already slowing as the exhaustion began to claim him. But even as he drifted off, his hand remained close to the tranquilizer gun, his grip on control unwavering.

  Eira shifted slightly against the restraints, her mind racing. The ropes were tight, but Emmett, for all his bravado, was finally vulnerable. She would just need to free herself.

  Soon, she thought, her sharp teeth glinting in the firelight as a sly grin spread across her face. Imagining his look of shock and horror before she gouged out his remaining eye.

  But for now, she stayed still, her piercing gaze fixed on the man who had made her his prisoner. She waited, an hour, two. Until she was sure he was sleeping. Then Eira began twisting her wrists. The ropes dug into her as she worked against them, twisting and flexing her hands in vain.

  Emmett had an infuriating talent for tying knots. No matter how she turned or strained, the bindings wouldn’t give. She couldn’t reach the knots the way she was bound. She bared her teeth in frustration as all she was managing to do was rub her wrists raw.

  She huffed in aggravation and scanned her immediate area. Emmett lay still, save for the rise and fall of his chest and the occasional shudder from the cold. She glanced around her feet, where she might be able to reach something to help her.

  Eira’s eyes narrowed as she spotted a rough piece of stone. It seemed to have a sharp edge that she could use to split her bindings. She reached with her boot, trying to drag it towards her. She strained and twisted. The tip of her boot just nudging it.

  Her ears twitched in frustration, and she inhaled deeply through her nose trying to calm herself. It was then she caught a distinct smell on the wind. At first, she dismissed it, too focused on the task at hand. But when she inhaled again, she froze. Her nostrils flaring slightly as she caught the unmistakable scent of men. It was faint but distinct. Sweat, gun oil, leather.

  A prickle of unease ran down her spine. She was running out of time, and if she couldn’t get free, she only really had one option. She licked her lips as she felt her heart begin to beat more quickly, and she strained reaching for the stone. If she could get it, and cut her bindings, she could slip away. After blinding Emmett of course.

  She grunted with the effort. She pulled with everything she had, and to her frustration she accidentally nudged the stone further away. She cursed and sat up straight again. She hated what she was thinking. But she knew she had no choice. She sniffed the air and to her growing panic the men were closer.

  “Emmett.” She hissed, keeping her voice low.

  He didn’t stir.

  “Emmett!” She said again, louder this time, but he remained still, his breathing deep and heavy.

  Her frustration boiled over. “Emmett!!” She snapped, her tone sharp and urgent.

  Finally, he stirred, groaning as he rolled over. His bloodshot eye opened, narrowing in irritation as he fixed her with a glare.

  “What the hell is it?” He muttered, his voice groggy and angry. But the moment he caught her expression. Her ears flat, eyes wide, and tail stiff. He knew something was wrong.

  Without another word, he grabbed his gear. Slinging his weapon over his chest, and hurried to the tree, yanking the quick release, freeing her from its base.

  “Move.” He said in a low tone, seizing and tugging the leash. With the muzzle of his tranquilizer gun, he gave her a sharp prod.

  Eira stumbled forward, her legs stiff from being tied for so long, but she didn’t argue.

  She couldn’t.

  She kept pace as they moved quickly into the forest, her mind racing. Her freedom was tantalizingly close, but she knew now wasn’t the time. The Russians were too close, and she wasn’t about to trade Emmett’s leash for Soviet captivity, death… or worse.

  But she eagerly waited for an opportunity to turn the tables.

  They pushed deeper into the woods, weaving between the trees with a quiet urgency. Eira’s sharp senses picked up the faint crunch of boots and the low murmur of voices behind them. They hadn’t escaped yet.

  Suddenly, Emmett tackled her to the ground, his weight pinning her against the cold, damp earth. She snarled in protest, but his hand clamped over her muzzle, silencing her. He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear.

  “Stay… fucking… quiet.” He whispered, his voice deadly serious.

  He removed his hand and pointed ahead. Eira’s ears twitched, and her eyes followed his gesture. Her stomach dropped. A squad of Russians moved through the trees some distance ahead, rifles at the ready.

  She cursed herself silently. She’d been so focused on plotting her next move that she hadn’t noticed the patrol.

  Emmett held a finger to his lips, his expression hard and focused. He motioned to the side, indicating the direction he wanted to crawl. Eira nodded reluctantly, but before moving, she lifted her bound wrists slightly, giving him a pointed look.

  His jaw tightened, his expression flashing with rage and exasperation. After a tense moment, he pulled out his knife and sliced through the bindings with a single motion.

  “Don’t make me regret this.” He growled under his breath.

  Eira didn’t respond. She rubbed her wrists briefly, then nodded. She could deal with him later. For now, the priority was survival.

  The leash remained in his hand, his grip firm as he held his tranquilizer gun in the other. She could feel his eyes on her, the silent reminder that he wouldn’t hesitate to put her down if she tried anything.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Eira began to crawl forward, taking the lead. The two of them moved, crawling on their bellies through the underbrush, and snow. Eira paused briefly, reaching for a patch of mud and smearing it across her face, ears, and stark white hair. The darkened layer muted her presence, better blending her into the forest.

  Emmett watched her out of the corner of his eye, then impatiently jerked his head forward.

  The faint voices behind them grew louder, more insistent. Shouts in Russian barked through the air, and both Emmett and Eira tensed.

  “They found the camp.” He muttered under his breath.

  Eira’s ears flattened as the shouts became more urgent. Without another word, Emmett looked around, and grabbed her leash and tugged, signaling her to move. They rose to their feet, and broke into a run, keeping low, and weaving through the trees with practiced precision.

  The forest became a blur of shadows and movement, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the canopy. Eira’s sharp eyes caught flashes of movement in the distance. More Russians. They were seemingly surrounded.

  Emmett cursed under his breath, eyes flicking in every direction as his brain raced through the options. None of them were good. They couldn’t double back, couldn’t go forward. But standing still? That was death.

  Emmett turned to the right, and began to move quickly. Eira quickly moved beside him.

  “Don’t stop,” he hissed, voice low, tight, but commanding.

  She didn’t argue. She darted forward through the underbrush, weaving through the trees like a silver ghost. Her sharp ears twitched with every distant shout, every crunch of snow or snap of branches behind them.

  Emmett followed close behind, his boots sinking deep into the thawing ground. His breath came out in steaming bursts, his jaw clenched. The tranquilizer gun still in his hand. The voices of the Russians had dulled for now, but they weren’t gone.

  Together, they plunged deeper into the woods. The forest grew denser, darker, branches clawing at their clothes and faces like the gnarled fingers of the dead. The Moonlight that barely filtered through the canopy, turned the world into a silver-blue nightmare.

  As they put more distance between the Russians, Eira’s focus began to narrow to the man behind her. She felt opportunity. Her muscles burned with it.

  He’d freed her hands, and the only hold he had over her was the leash. Which served as more of an insult than a restraint, and of course the tranquilizer.

  She was stronger than him. Faster. And in the woods this dark. She could see better than him.

  Her muscles coiled, ready to pounce, when a sharp snap-hiss shattered her focus. The pressurized sound of the tranquilizer gun firing was followed immediately by a prick of pain in her side.

  She barely had time to process what had happened before Emmett’s boot hooked behind her ankle, tripping her mid-stride. She tumbled forward, the forest floor rushing up to meet her as her knees and elbows struck the dirt. Before she could recover, Emmett was on her, his weight driving her face-first into the ground.

  A thick arm snaked around her neck, locking in a brutal chokehold, while the other wrenched her arm back at a brutal angle.

  “I’ve done this shit too long to be taken by surprise,” he growled into her ear, voice dripping venom. “You really thought I wouldn’t see that coming?”

  Eira thrashed, her claws carving furrows in the dirt. She twisted, kicked, bit at the air, but it was already too late. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her strength slipping away.

  “You might be stronger,” Emmett snarled, tightening the hold, “You might be bigger, might even be faster. But you ain’t fucking smarter.”

  Her breaths turned into ragged wheezes, vision dimming at the edges as the tranquilizer did its work. Her body betrayed her.

  “Verdammte…” she gasped, voice barely audible.

  Emmett held her just a moment longer, ensuring the fight had left her completely. Then he let go, her limp body slumping into the wet leaves.

  “Bitch,” he muttered, hauling himself to his feet with a groan. His hands trembled with adrenaline, fury simmering behind his tired glare. “Did you really think that was gonna work?”

  He jerked his head behind him. The Russian voices were growing closer again.

  Without another word, he crouched, hooked his arms under her, and hoisted her onto his shoulders. Her weight hit him like a sack of wet concrete.

  He adjusted her with a grunt, securing his grip. With one hand, he slung the tranquilizer gun back to his side and brought his Grease Gun to bear.

  Emmett pushed forward, branches whipping at his arms, twigs snapping underfoot. His ribs screamed, his legs burned, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

  “You just couldn’t make this easy, could you?” he muttered, breath ragged, his tone bitter. “But no. You had to try your luck.”

  The trees grew thicker now, the terrain rising slightly. He adjusted her weight again, jaw clenched tight.

  “Just keep moving,” he said through gritted teeth. “One foot. Then the next.”

  Eira shifted slightly on his shoulders, her unconscious body twitching with the sedative’s slow burn. She would be out for at least six hours. Hopefully.

  “You wake up and try that again, I swear to God…” he let the threat trail off into the night.

  The Russian voices had faded behind them now, muffled as the forest grew thicker. Carrying his burden into the freezing dark.

  Eira stirred awake. Her mind still clouded with the groggy haze of the tranquilizer. Her body ached, the familiar discomfort of her wrists and ankles being tightly bound, the only deepened her irritation. But there was something… odd.

  She could feel warmth against her back. Someone was lying close to her. Too close. She didn’t need to turn her head to know who it was.

  Her ears flicked in agitation as she twisted slightly, confirming her suspicions. Emmett. The bastard was using her as a heat source, his arm draped loosely over her midsection as he snored softly in his sleep.

  Her lips curled into a snarl. She looked down at her ankles, noting how tightly they were bound. Of course. He’d been thorough, as always. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

  She shifted subtly, testing the bindings, then using the root of the upturned tree they were hiding against, she began rubbing the strap that bound her wrists against the jagged edge, her movements slow and deliberate.

  Emmett stirred behind her, grunting softly as he shifted. She froze, her ears flattening against her head as she waited. His breathing settled again, and she continued her work, tugging and scraping.

  She froze as she felt something suddenly press into her shoulder.

  “Don’t even think of it.” Emmett growled. Pressing the barrel of his tranquilizer into her back.

  She let out a huff, then grinned. “Well.” She said in a low, sweet tone, her accent cutting through the silence. “Are you comfortable?”

  Emmett groaned in response, his other hand reflexively tightening on the Grease Gun resting near him. “Shut the fuck up.” He muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

  Eira smirked, her piercing blue eyes glinting with amusement. “You snore, by the way.” She added, her tone annoyingly cheerful.

  Emmett groaned louder, sitting up with a grimace. He ran a hand down his dirt-smeared face, wiping at the exhaustion etched into his features. His lone eye squinted as he reached into his coat, pulling out a folded map.

  He sat there for a moment, leaning against the tree as he studied the map, his finger tracing the lines and marks he’d made earlier. “Where the hell are we…” he muttered under his breath, his tone edged with frustration.

  Before he could finish the thought, a sharp crack shattered the stillness of the forest.

  The report of a gunshot echoed through the trees, and Emmett’s head snapped to the side. His body jerked violently, and he crumpled onto the cold, hard ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

  Eira froze, her breath caught in her throat. Her piercing eyes widened as she stared at Emmett’s motionless form. For a moment, the forest felt utterly silent, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

  He lay on his side. Blood pouring from the left side of his head, just above his ear.

  He’s dead…

  The thought struck her like a hammer, but she quickly shook it off. No time for shock. No time for hesitation. She had to act.

  Her sharp eyes scanned Emmett’s body, focusing on the knife on his belt. If she could get it, she could cut her bindings and make a run for it.

  She twisted her body, pulling herself toward him as quickly as her tied limbs would allow. Rough stones scraping her elbows as she moved. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her ears straining to catch any sound of movement from the unseen shooter.

  The leash, still looped around her neck suddenly snagged on the tree, and she gasped, as the slack was pulled tight. She cursed under her breath as it snagged on a root. She yanked it free, her fingers clawing at the dirt as she inched closer to Emmett’s belt.

  Her eyes darted to his face. Blood trickled from a wound near his temple, staining the earth beneath him and his face. But his chest still rose and fell, albeit faintly. He was alive still she realized to her irritation.

  Eira gritted her teeth, her claws scraping against the leather sheath of the knife. Her fingers fumbled at the strap securing it, her movements desperate and clumsy as the weight of the situation pressed down on her.

  Another gunshot rang out in the distance, closer this time.

  Hurry, she thought, her heart pounding as she worked to free the knife. Just a little more…

  Her heart thundered in her chest, and her breath came in sharp, controlled bursts. Just as her fingers tightened around the handle, Emmett’s eye snapped open.

  Their gazes locked, his lone green eye blazing with fury and exhaustion.

  “You bitch.” He growled through clenched teeth.

  Eira snarled in return, yanking the knife free with all her strength. Emmett rolled away just as the blade slashed through the air, narrowly missing him. She wasted no time, sawing at the straps binding her ankles with frantic precision.

  Emmett lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. His weight pinned her, but she twisted and fought, her bound hands trying to drive the knife back. His hand shot out, aiming the tranquilizer gun directly at her throat.

  “Stay down, dammit!” He roared.

  Eira’s instincts took over. With a snarl, she shoved at the gun with her bound wrists, knocking it aside just as he pulled the trigger. The dart hissed harmlessly into the dirt.

  The sudden, sharp crack of wood meeting skull filled the air. Emmett’s head jerked violently, his remaining eye rolling back as he slumped to the ground beside her. His dirt and blood-streaked face went still, his body collapsing in a lifeless heap.

  Eira froze, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up. A Russian soldier loomed over her, the butt of his Mosin Nagant still raised from the strike. His face was split with a grin that was equal parts surprise and triumph.

  He turned his head and shouted.

  “Over here! Hurry!” The soldier shouted in gravelly Russian, his rifle trained on Eira. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he laughed, stepping closer.

  “Damn, we caught one alive! Drop the knife!” He barked, his tone sharp and triumphant.

  Eira glared up at him, her lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth in a defiant snarl. Her fingers tightened around the knife, her mind briefly entertaining the idea of lunging at him, but her chance of survival was slim.

  “I said, drop the knife, bitch!” The soldier snarled, jamming the cold steel barrel of his rifle against her cheek for emphasis.

  Gritting her teeth, Eira tossed the blade aside, the blade landing in front of Emmett. Her sharp blue eyes locked onto his, hatred burning like an inferno in her glare.

  Moments later, the sound of boots crunching through the underbrush reached her ears. Five more soldiers emerged into the clearing, their rifles at the ready, and their faces a mix of curiosity and grim satisfaction.

  One of them knelt beside Emmett, rolling the unconscious man onto his back with a frown. “Is he a German?” The soldier asked in Russian, inspecting Emmett’s uniform and weaponry.

  Another soldier, younger and visibly confused, spoke up when he noticed Emmett’s weapons. “He’s an American? Why the hell is an American here?”

  The men muttered amongst themselves, their voices tinged with confusion and suspicion. A soldier with a scar running across his jaw stepped forward, his expression hardening. “We’ll take him to command.” He said in a gravelly tone. “Let them decide what to do with him.”

  He gestured toward Eira, his tone darkening as he added, “And what about her?”

  One of the younger soldiers stepped forward, his cruel grin spreading wide as he stared at her. The fur pelt draped over his shoulder sent a chill down Eira’s spine, and her sharp eyes quickly identified it, not just fur, but the pelt of one of her kind.

  “The bitch couldn’t be taken alive.” He said coldly in Russian, his words met with grim nods from the others.

  He crouched down in front of Eira, his smirk widening as he tapped the pelt for emphasis. “I’m going to skin you alive. Your friend was fortunate he was dead when I freed him of his pelt. You won’t be so lucky.”

  Eira’s breath hitched, her stomach twisting as the realization hit her. The soldiers around her chuckled darkly, their voices blending into a symphony of malice.

  The young man reached for his knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light. Eira’s mind raced, her instincts screaming for action. Her fists clenched as her body trembled with rage and fear, her thoughts whirling in search of a way out.