Wolf Song (Wolf Singer Prophecies Book 1)

this day out of habit, and I was glad for them.
The backpack rode high, practically on my shoulders. It was there keeping pace with me, secure as it was fastened around my waist.
I could practically feel the Alpha’s breath on me, the fetid stink of death. The clacking of its teeth, the claws tearing through dirt…all of it filled me and threatened to overwhelm me.
I just needed to get to the water...
"Soli!" a woman’s voice cried out in anguish. It was too familiar, that voice, and one I knew to be dead.
Survive. I could hear my dad coaching me through this as if he spoke right inside my head. Don't you dare stop running. That voice ain’t real.
I heard it then. It was the keening wail of an animal. A wolf. A true wolf.
The ululating song was a contrasting mix of sorrow and rage. It spoke to me, almost as if I could understand what it said.
Odd. There weren’t wolves here, at least not anymore. They were once the protectors of the mountains Before, but now? They were gone, fading from history into mere myths and legends.
I spotted the cliff.
The woman’s cry echoed around me, devolving into a cacophony that no longer held a lure to my heart. It had been a ploy by these monsters. Even now they persisted, using my mother’s voice to plead at me. The cries squeezed my heart, even as they turned into gurgling choking sounds.
I pushed away the thought that I might have been listening to the last sounds my mother ever made on this earth.
I heard rushing water before I saw the break in the tree line. The cliff. Without a look back, I jumped off of it and plunged feet first into the river below.
Wade in the water children...
God's gonna trouble the water...
The gospel spiritual rose up in my mind, sung in my mother’s honeyed contralto, as I bobbed toward the opposite side of the river bank.
I worked against the current, my backpack still firmly secured on my back.
I finally got my waterlogged self out of the river and made my way to the tree where I had hidden my change of clothes. A quick strip later and I was moving toward that line, that barrier of safety that would separate me from the dread nightfall.
Just keep moving, Dad had always said. Just keep moving. Don't let no one catch you.
Lord, I was tired. More wolf song sounded in the distance. It blended in with the symphony of crickets, subtle as if it had always been there, though I knew that was not the case. I remembered every bit of sound that came out of these woods because it was so rare.
The monsters had taken away even that bit of comfort from us—the comfort that we weren’t alone—and left only dead silence, an emptiness that threatened to fill the rest of the Earth if we allowed it to.
The wolf song had the feel of warning. An eerie wail that ran like knives over my skin, piercing into my soul. Adrenaline rushed my body, and I found a new burst of speed, even though I didn’t notice any monsters or other threats nearby.
The cabin-turned-farmhouse was in the distance, and I rushed it without stopping until I felt the fingers of magic thrill over my skin and I was safe inside the wards of true sanctuary.
The outer rings of protection were from the earth magic, natural barriers that kept out the less powerful baddies. We didn’t need to work on the outer wards. It was the innermost ring that needed to be secure. That was the ring that kept the big bad away in the simplest way that I could manage with my dad's scripture: invisibility.
I figured if no one could see us, no one would need to be looking for us.
And it had worked. So far, at least.
I took my backpack off and shimmied the awkward bundle out of it. It was wrapped in a kind of wax paper and twine. Something that would keep any creepy crawlies off of it. I pulled the twine, my fingers shaking both from the overload of spent adrenaline and anticipation.
When the paper fell away, it revealed a familiar leather-bound book. Made sense that it had been wrapped so carefully. My dad would have wanted to make sure I would have this book if I ever needed it. I traced the symbol of interlocking circles and triangles that was embossed in intricate detail on the cover.
This was his personal notebook, one that he had taken copious notes in about the monsters of this world…and how they could be destroyed.
My heart lurched as suddenly the book felt heavy. Too heavy. Quickly, I laid it down next to his scriptures on the dining table.
My father had once told me that his notebook was like an extension of himself, and that I should treat any of mine the same way. Countless times he would tell me that his notebook carried his hopes, dreams, and even his heart and soul.
If I had it now, it meant that he willingly parted with it, and that meant he had done the unthinkable.
He had broken his own rules.
He had chosen to die.

I paced just inside of the door, avoiding the warped slats of wood that would otherwise squeak. There was a noise outside like the crunching of bones and I knew that the sound would follow me to my dreams.
Blessedly, I saw nothing out of the peephole. I let out the breath I’d desperately clung to.
And now that I tuned in, the only sounds outside were the wind as it rustled through the trees, the dead leaves skittering over even deader earth. A silence that lingered, which was as it should be.
Was there something out there waiting for me to leave?
Or were they hoping I’d stay and be easy pickings as they barged in?
Maybe there wasn’t even a they out there waiting for me.
What if it's Dad?
I shut down