His Destined Mate

The wind swirls around an alluring feminine figure, forcing the rain into her face so that it slaps at her cheeks. She is small, short, and slender, her eyes a dazzling green that glows like emeralds. However, large spectacles cover their amazing beauty, with lenses that reduce her eyes' brilliance and hue. Her silky, wavy hair is a stunning red, cutting off abruptly at the shoulders, giving her a youthful face to match her juvenile figure.

She is seated, her thin clothing sticking to her moist flesh as the rain pounds even more determinedly on her shape, on the muddy ground. Thunder roars over her head, crackles of lightning striking the air. All she sees is darkness. For her, there is nothing but darkness.

She knows she is at risk of dying. The lightning is close, and if one tree catches on fire, the whole forest will burn. She has nowhere to hide if that happens, no one to call for aid. Her cell phone lies beside her, dead from the steady water shower. However, it is easy for her to keep calm.

Life is no longer essential to her, so she does not care if she sizzles away.

A solitary tear evacuates her eye, gliding down her face, joining the torrents of water that rush down her body. A living nightmare surrounds her, the awful breeze pounding the rain into random destinations, the plants trembling. A tree is near to toppling on her, leaning her way, uncomfortably close to breaking free from its trunk.

She scarcely recognizes that she is crying heavily, her tears accompanying the storm's efforts to make her as uncomfortable as possible. She feels dirty, the muck giving her a horrible feeling in her stomach. On a whim, she desires a hot shower, with warm steam engulfing her.

Movement is impossible for her.

She wants to finish it here. Right now. It would be so easy... so pleasant as the miseries of life would slip away. She wonders why God gave her the ugly face, the infantile figure, and the snooty attitude that made so many people detest her.

Why does she have to be the unlucky one?

Now she cannot see, the rain blinding her. Her spectacles drop off her nose, sliding to the ground, the glass immediately sinking into the dirt. Unbelievably, the water starts to pour even harder from the frenzied heavens, the temperature lowering by the second. Goosebumps develop on her arm. Her breaths become apparent, clouds emerging in wisps just in front of her.

The cold grows worse.

She glances at the ground, uncertainty on her features. Is she ready to let herself die here? Is it time for her to exit this world?

A little sliver of fear enters her thoughts.

She understands instantly that these may be her last breaths. She tries to relish each of them, reaching with a delicate hand to attempt to grab the clouds that lingered before her. The question pounds in her skull, making her dizzy.

Is she ready to die?

The thunder draws closer, the clouds overhead splitting a little. Through the crack in the clouds, she can see a full moon. She stares at it, astonishment blazing through her at its beauty. It certainly is a magnificent sight, the perfect circle illuminated by pure white light, the only incandescence currently in her universe. It is symbolic of hope to her, hope that she will carry on. Hope that everything will be okay.

Suddenly a hard rock pounds on her shoulder. She gasps in pain, her shoulder hurting from the collision.

The moon evaporates as the gloomy clouds steal it away from her.

Another object lands on her knee, and the same discomfort reoccurs. The child remains in her position, pain etched on her face. She grabs the unusual pebble, holding it near to her eyes so she can view it. Her eyes expand.

"Hail," she whispers as another rock comes rushing towards her. It is large, roughly the size of a nickel, plummeting at an unbelievable pace. It is aimed towards her head.

She sees it approaching, an astonishing ball of energy, ready to give the fatal blow. She is frozen. Death is finally coming to take her away. This is what she wants, right? She should be happy. Deliverance from the pain, the continuous suffering, is arrived.

The fear is the thing that is taking away her happiness.

There is a brief quiet, and then there is a howl in the night as the awful ice rock clamors to reach its goal.

***

He can hear it. Its increased respiration pounds in his ears, suggesting its proximity.

He ventures closer to the presence, the creature that dares to be in his area at this time. It is a horrible time for the intruder, whatever it is, for tonight he is at his strongest.

Tonight is the night of the wolf.