[edited]

Its been a week now since Gabe and I started talking again and everything has been absolutely perfect...too perfect.

Gabe and I are currently at the lake, I'm sitting with my feet in the warm clear water while Gabe is somewhere behind me reading a book or something.

I was wearing a pair of army green cargo pants, and one of Caleb's black singlets that hang loosely on me.

Soon I got tired of just sitting with my feet in the water. And I got up on my knees, crawling over to sit beside Gabe, stopping just a little ways from him to admire his calm serene look.

He looked surreal.

He fitted so well with the surroundings that it was weird. He was in a dark  blue T-shirt, grey sweatpants (I sort of pulled him here without giving him time to change) and his black muddy converse.

He was so engrossed in a well-read copy of Wuthering Heights that I could openly ogle him without fear, call me an opportunist but that's what I did.

His plump pink lips were pressed together, his eyebrows knitted in lazer-like focus. He was hunched o er the book and his longer than usual hair his his caramel eyes from view.

The lake was surrounded by huge old oaks that grew and stretched so high up that it made everything seem small. The branches extended far, fighting each other for space only leaving little cracks where sunlight squeezed through to the seedlings below.

One such blessed ray graced Gabe's hair making a dark halo over his bent head. Making him seem ethereal, with his creamy skin glowing like a light was shining from the inside out instead of the other way.

If I didn't know better I'd think some outside being/Goddess was intentionally putting a spotlight on Gabe like one of those cliche moments where some one finally finds out they maybe, might like...

I was suddenly aware that my position, being on all fours was hurting my knees, I was probably kneeling on a pebble or something.

When I looked back up, no doubt with the intention of continuing to ogle a certain god, my gaze was met with a pair of honey eyes. I gasped my heart skipping a beat and picking up speed at the same time. It was so loud.

Too loud.

I watched as Gabe's face transform into a cross between a concern look and a frown. I watched his ears perk and his nose lift slightly before his eyes darkened to a dark brown.

That's when the scent hit me,getting stronger by the moment. A cross between dead meat, stale blood and fowl breaths.

Rogues.

A lot of them.

Before I could voice my thoughts, or panic, Gabe was beside me. Grabbing my hand and pulling me up into his arms. He gave a warning look.

"Let's go."

Without even giving a response, I let him pull me in the directon of the pack. Soon our fast walking became a jog, then a run.

I could smell their raw hate, rage and boiling anger. It was so close my eyes watered and I gagged.

They were gaining on us.

"Grace, what's going on!" Celeste demanded.

"I don't know "

Suddenly we stopped.

I looked up at Gabe and I knew it.

My thoughts confirmed what the deep hard look he gave me conveyed.

We were surrounded.

Gabe took a protective stance around me and I looked around gauging and calculating the damage to
be done. We were surrounded completely. Every nook, cranny and inch.

We were confronted by hundreds of wolves. Their furs were matted to their skinny figures by blood and dirt.
Most of them had jagged scars all over their bodies. Their eyes were red from blood lust, as they circled us they seemed to salivate just at the thought of ending our lives.

They knew they outnumbered us by a huge margin.

Two against Two Hundred was an odds that was in their favor and they knew it. Some of the slightly larger ones circled the inside perimeter, growling at us. Their foul smelling stench permeating the air causing bile to rise up in my throat.

The slightly bigger ones growled at the weaker mutts to assert dominance... maybe it was a show for us, to prove they were worthy opponents.

I wasn't liking the odds, if it were one on one. I'd have no doubt we could wipe the ground with their furs. But with all the cards stacked against us.
I was feeling helpless.

And trapped.

My attention was drawn from a particular rogue that was trying to assert dominance by growling at the runts of the pack. He had an ugly jagged scar running over his left eye.

That was when I saw him, at first I wondered how a rogue in such a huge pack could get that big. But it soon dawned on me that this particular wolf wasn't a rogue. And judging by how the other rogues parted their perimeter fence around us to let him through, baring their necks in submission.

I knew instantly he called the shots.

He was around our size, his fur though was coated in fresh dirt. It looked considerably nicer than that of his army. His eyes though red, held a certain awareness. This proved that his bloodlust doesn't fully control him. He was in charge.

Now, this led me to think.

Who is this wolf?

And why would someone try to create an army of rogues?

Rogues are rogues for a reason, they loved lawlessness and freedom.

What was this wolf offering them that was worth more to them than their freedom?

And most importantly why are they targeting us, or more specifically me.

The answer was clear.

They found me.