SUPERNATURALIS

The sun rose slowly, pulling light across the sky, warming the earth below. Birds stirred in the trees, their wings rustling as the breeze picked up. A black truck rumbled down the narrow road, its tires humming against the asphalt, the engine's roar cutting through the quiet morning air. The wind whipped through the open window, sending a rush of cool air into the truck, while the truck's shadow stretched behind it, blending with the waking world.

Inside the truck, the radio blasted "Life is a Highway," the music vibrating through the cabin, alive with energy. Henry's fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his lips moving with the lyrics, barely above a hum. The steady hum of the tires on the road blended with the beat, and the rhythm of the drive seemed to pull him deeper into the moment. His gaze stayed fixed on the winding road ahead, the familiar path easing him into the journey, his mind drifting with each mile.

His girlfriend's laughter filled the truck, her voice blending with the song as she sang along. Her smile, as radiant as ever, made his heart skip a beat.

He stole a glance at her, and she met his gaze with a soft smile. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before turning his attention back to the road.

The music faded into the background as Liz broke the silence. "Babe, where is this watchtower we're supposed to be staying at?"

"It's about a six-hour walk up the trail," he answered, steering off the narrow highway and onto a gravel path. The tires crunched softly as he parked the truck.

Turning to her with a grin, he added, "Trust me, the view's worth it."

She pouted, crossing her arms. "It better be." They both climbed out of the truck, checking their gear and supplies.

"I hope we get to see a dire wolf," Liz said with a hopeful spark in her eyes.

"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his own gaze.

"I heard they're as big as a bear," she said, her eyes lighting up as she imagined the size of the wolf.

"Well, lucky for us, this is the season they're most often spotted," he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

Once everything was packed, they set off, hiking sticks in hand. The trail ahead was rough and winding, but they pressed on, the journey unfolding with each step as they ventured deeper into the wilderness.

Wide eyes peeked from the underbrush as they ascended the trail, delicate ears twitching before the deer bounded softly into the shadows. Above, birds warbled from hidden branches, their melodies drifting through the leaves. Nearby, squirrels perched on high limbs, cracking nuts between tiny paws, their bushy tails flicking as they watched the hikers pass below.

Liz glanced over her shoulder at the towering trees, a shiver running down her spine as if unseen eyes were following her every step. The forest stood silent, shadows shifting between the trunks.

"Liz!" Henry's voice broke through her thoughts. She shook off the uneasy feeling and hurried to catch up.

The trees began to thin, opening up to a hill that sloped gently into a sprawling clearing. There, rising above the landscape, stood the watchtower. It's dark wood was worn but solid, the spiral staircase wrapping around its frame like a coiled serpent. Sunlight danced off the windows, their glass gleaming against the rugged wood. The tower loomed proudly, untouched by time, a silent guardian over the wilderness.

"Wow…" Her eyes widened as she took in the towering structure. "It's amazing."

Henry grinned, glancing at the sinking sun. "C'mon, babe. Let's get inside before it gets dark."

The couple slowly climbed the winding staircase and stepped inside. As soon as they entered, Liz let her backpack slide off her shoulders, dropping it onto the floor with a thud. She stumbled over to the bed and flopped onto it, her face buried in the pillows. "I'm exhausted," she mumbled.

"You relax. I'll get the wood stove going," Henry said with a smile. He walked over to the corner where the stove stood, its iron frame cold and waiting. He set to work, the crackle of kindling soon filling the room as warmth began to spread.

He brushed the dust off his hands and set up the portable stove on the table. With practiced ease, he began prepping their meal, the soft clatter of utensils breaking the room quiet.

Henry glanced over and saw that Liz was fast asleep. Moving quietly, he reached into his bag, pulled out his shotgun, and slid it under the bed—just as a precaution.

As soon as the food was ready, he gently shook her awake. She groaned in protest, burying her face in the pillow, but the scent of the warm meal coaxed her up. Rubbing her eyes, she finally sat up, her sleepiness melting away as she reached for a plate.

They laughed and joked, enjoying their time together, until a strange noise shattered the moment, sending a chill through Liz.

Henry's expression shifted instantly, his eyes hardening as he grabbed his shotgun with practiced ease. He peered into the darkness beyond the tree line, where a pale, skeletal figure emerged, silhouetted against the now-fully set sun.

"Henry! Why do you have a gun?" Liz shouted 

"Now isn't the time!" Henry hissed, his training kicking in. With one hand gripping his shotgun, he snatched the gas canister with the other. Without a second thought, he dashed outside, every sense alert to the danger lurking in the shadows.

The gunshot tore through the silence, its echo splintering the night. Birds erupted from the treetops, wings thrashing as they vanished into the darkness.

Beneath the tree, the shadows stirred. Massive wolves slinked forward, muscles coiled, ears twitching at The distant crack of gunfire echoed through the night. Nostrils flared—metallic, sharp—the scent of blood laced the air. A low growl rippled through the stillness.

One of the larger wolves bared her teeth, her fur gleaming white beneath the moonlight. She let out a commanding snarl, and as one, the pack threw their heads back in a chilling howl. Then, the wind rushed through their fur as they surged forward, sprinting full speed up the rugged terrain.

They arrived moments later, shadows slipping between the trees. The white wolf lifted her head, her snout parting as she issued the command.

"Fan out."

She crept closer, drawn by the thick stench of blood. The torn remnants of flesh lay scattered, a shotgun clutched in a lifeless grip, its barrel slick with crimson. Nearby, half a man sprawled across the forest floor, his body twisted, eyes wide and frozen in a silent scream of terror.

A low growl rumbled in her throat as her eyes locked on the man before her—an agent of the S.I.A. 'Great. Just what I need to worry about.'

Then, a faint sob shattered the silence—a trembling female. At least one would make it out alive. Her eyes flashed, and she whirled toward the pack with a sharp growl.

"Don't let it escape. Rip it apart."

The words echoed in the tense air, a silent understanding passing through the wolves. They surged forward, silent shadows, ready to hunt.