Amy

Devon limped to the truck and slid her into the covered bed.  They’d been playing dodge with the wolves, themselves in human form.  The wolves, as what they were. In their joy at the return of their friends, one of the young wilds had drawn her too close to the monastery.  Before he could warn them, the arrow had gone through her chest. 

Now they came close, whining, tails tucked low, gathering around the back of the truck.  Human green eyes looked into his, smiling softly.  He soothed her, pretending, until the pack began to howl.

Only sunrise would quiet them.

My newest drabble which can also be found here.  You can also view my work at Push Comes to Shove, where I am a guest of the amazingly talented R.R. Kovar.