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Yila gasped for breath as she yanked the knife from the wolf’s body and spun to face the next howling monster. She dodged to the left, blinking sweaty hair out of her eyes, and hurled the knife. It sank into the wolf’s neck. She paused, trying to breathe.

“Yila! Behind you!” her brother Niarok screamed from her right. Yila snatched an arrow from her quiver and spun to face the giant wolf. The alpha. Yila winced. She wouldn’t be able to kill it. Not with an arrow.

She grunted, dropped the arrow, and yanked the much-hated sword from it’s scabbard while backing away. The wolf snarled and crouched. Yila gasped again, trying desperately to get air in her lungs. Curse this blasted asthma!

The wolf sprang. Yila yelled and swung the sword in a flashing arc, catching the wolf’s head as it hurtled down towards her. She turned away, ignoring the blood spurting from the wound, and shoved her sword back into its scabbard. Niarok sparred with a werewolf. The thing shapeshifted into its manly form, and Yila resisted the urge to scream.

Niarok parried as the werewolf grabbed a branch from the ground. Yila yanked a medium-size knife from her belt and wound up to throw it, but Niarok dodged a slice from the werewolf’s branch, which had shapeshifted into a sword, putting him between Yila and the werewolf. Yila felt like throwing up. Shapeshifters were disgusting.

Niarok fought hard, but exhaustion clearly weighed down his limbs. Yila shook her head, hating to do what she had to do, but her brother meant too much to her. She spun the knife in her hand and charged toward the fight.

Channeling her ninja training, Yila sprang from the ground, somersaulted through the air, just missing Niarok’s sword, and landed behind the werewolf, who turned to meet her.

“YILA!” Niarok screamed.

Yila yelled and threw her knife. But the werewolf was too fast. It flicked the knife away with the tip of its branch-turned-sword and approached her. Yila grabbed an arrow and put it to her bowstring, gasping for breath.

Her vision blurred. NO! she screamed in her mind. She would not give in now. With a strength of will she didn’t know she possessed, she forced her vision back into focus and shot the arrow. It penetrated the were-wolf’s shoulder, and it screamed, dropped the branch, and fell writhing to the ground, a wolf once again.

Yila collapsed, gasping. Her lungs wouldn’t fill. Vices clutched them in a death grip. She couldn’t breathe. The world faded, but not before Yila felt a painful ripping in her shoulder. Must be the teeth, she observed as she fell into spinning darkness and stopped breathing. The sound of Niarok screaming her name faded to silence.

That got way darker than I thought it would…