《Wolf of the Wasteland》 Wolf of the Wasteland - 1 - Blood Trail I Wolf of the Wasteland The End of the Golden Age left the world bitter, and broken. Humanity was worse off. The surviving men were scared, and desperate and starving. Hunger drove the survivors into madness, and soon food became worth more than a life. Water became worth more than a dozen of lives. Ammunition became even more sought after than it ever was. It was a staple among Wastelanders. It was the one true currency. Everyone traded ammunition, either by bartering and negotiation or by firing it into someone that wouldn''t do a fair trade. The Wasteland had few laws and fewer law-abiders. But some good men still remained... A raven flew circling over head. A young wayfarer looked up at the magnificent bird, as she panted from exhaustion. "Simon. Can we stop? Just for the night... We''re thirsty and tired," panted the youngest of the children, Adaline, who pointed at the factory, "I''ve got enough sticks to start a fire." A company of three young children, two girls and boy, followed their guide to a dilapidated old factory surrounded by fields of endless sand dunes and rusted metal. "I promised your father that I would get you to Silver Hills. We''ve got a ways to go," insisted Simon, an old wasteland wayfarer. "Simon. Why does your leg rattle when you walk?" chimed in the curious young boy. "Prosthetic, my son." "Prosthetic?" questioned the young boy. "It''s a fake. A replacement. Lost my real one to the Flesh-eaters. I believe they call themselves the Red of Mirra now," "Gross," interrupted Charlie, the eldest of the children, "Did they eat your leg?" "Indeed they did. Right in front of my younger self," laughed the old man. Simon looked at the raven as it flew over them. He paused for a moment and looked at his young company. They were covered in dirt and filth and exhausted. "Fine. You''ve out voted me. We''ll set up shop outside of this old place. Charlie and Ada, you girls will be in charge of getting the fire going. Farron and I will scout the factory for wares, and if we''re lucky maybe some food." "Hopefully canned peaches!" Charlie piped up, "I''m starving for anything that isn''t wasteland meat. Anything else really would be amazing." Farron peered through his old detached rifle scope at the distance hills of desert sand. "Simon... I see lights. I think they''re coming this way," he panicked. Simon froze in shock staring off into the incoming lights. "What do we do? Simon?" Farron shouted. Farron tried to shake Simon but it was no use. "Girls, get in the factory!" commanded the young boy. Simon fell to his knees and placed his hands on his head. "It''s over," he muttered, "They''ve found us." "Who has found us?" questioned the young boy. "The Red of Mirra." Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. A vehicle pulled up to the factory in front of the group. The vehicle was a shuttle, a makeshift contraption that looked like a speed boat on tank treads. Five armed men exited their vehicle and approached the young party. The raven cawed loudly, flying above the men in dark red cloak. "They''ve got girls!" shouted one of the vile men. "We''re here for the meat," commanded the largest of the men, "We''ve got enough mouths to feed." The Flesh-eaters dressed in red cloaks and leather outfits, with pale skin, sharpened yellow teeth, and red skulls painted on their faces. These men were hunters of human meat sent by Bloody Mirra, heir of the Covenant of Blood; the Red of Mirra. "Let''s skin this one alive," ordered the starving bandit as he approached the young boy, impatient to wait another minute. The five hungry men surrounded their prey. "No, we''ll take ''em back. She likes it better when it''s fresh," demanded the largest of the five men. "We''re hungry now! Let''s tie the little one up and flay him now! We didn''t hunt for three moons not to eat!" shouted a defiant Flesh-eater, who approached the young boy grabbing him by the tattered brown scarf he wore around his sun-burnt face and neck. The youngest traveler, Adaline, tried to pull the young boy free from the grasp of the cannibal. "No! Simon, help him!" she screamed. Simon stared at the group of men, petrified in fear. The largest Flesh-eater, a towering man of muscle, approached the old wayfarer, and with a stern push to his shoulders he sent him to the floor. He grabbed a hold of the man''s prosthetic leg firmly and jolted it back and forth. "Here. You can eat this now. It''s already loose," pointed the towering Flesh-eater to his hungry subordinate. "Alright, yeah. Give it here!" He agreed, wiping his watering mouth, and dropping hold of the young boy. "You don''t mind, do yea'' Simon?" The Flesh-Eaters began tugging on the old man''s disjointed leg, trying to pull it free. "Why won''t it come free? Is it bolted on or something?" One of the Flesh-eaters questioned. The brawny Flesh-eater held Simon down with one hand as he tore off Simon''s prosthetic leg with his other hand. The thunderous crack of a whip hitting the air could be heard in the distance, followed by the whistle of a travelling bullet. The large, brawny Flesh-eater gargled as blood spewed from a gushing hole through his thick neck. The towering bandit fell to his knees, and rested on Simon, who appeared to be badly injured. The blood sprayed the group of travelers and the closest Flesh-eater, who didn''t seem to mind. Choking, the brawny bandit collapsed to the floor, drowning from the large hole through his throat. The young boy raised up an old revolver, trembling with fear. "Simon, Adaline, get behind me," he bravely commanded. Wolf of the Wasteland - 2 - Blood Trail II Adaline helped Simon limp away from the Flesh-eater. "Thank you, Farron. You are braver than I..." huffed the injured man. The injured man nodded to Farron. He was proud of the brave young boy. Farron held the revolver up, aiming at the Flesh-eater''s head. "He''s been bloody shot! That''s a bloody big bloody hole!" shouted the frantic Flesh-eater beside him, who was in the process of wiping the blood off of the old aviator goggles that covered his eyes. The manic Flesh-eater turned to see Farron holding his gun. The young boy had stolen the revolver from the unaware bandit. "You did that, didn''t yeah? You nabbed that off of me, didn''t yeah- boy?" Farron shook nervously as he aimed the rusty old revolver at the goggle-wearing Flesh-eater. "You bloody lil'' piggie! I''ll flay you up and hang you on a white banner, boy!" threatened the Flesh-eater, "Red of Mirra, here we are, it''ll say!" he added, shaking his head side to side furiously. The blood-covered Flesh-eater stepped towards Farron snapping his fingers. "Gimme'' that gun, lil'' boy! Give ''er back." Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The young boy pressed the trigger of the revolver, but it didn''t fire. Farron quickly pressed it again, firing the revolver unexpectedly. The bullet grazed the Flesh-eater''s cheek, who jolted his head back. The Flesh-eater stuck out his tongue to taste the fresh blood that poured down his cheek, and smiled, "you shouldn''t of done that," he smirked snapping his fingers. "Only ever got two bullets in the bloody thing. We use it for head roulette. Now give ''er here!" The deranged bandit charged over to Farron, and tossed him to the ground. "I''ll eat you here and now, no more games! First I''ll break you open with a rock and then I''ll eat your brains," he threatened, snapping his fingers followed by cackling, manic laughter. The soaring black raven cawed, circling overhead. A second crack of thunder sounded off, with a rattle in the air. It was the sharp whizzing sound of a speeding bullet from off in the distance. Wolf of the Wasteland - 3 - Blood Trail III A second crack of thunder sounded off, with a rattle in the air. The sharp whizzing sound of a speeding bullet from off in the distance. Within the instance of the Flesh-eater snapping his fingers together a large bullet entered through the top of his skull, piercing through the lobe of his brain, and bursting open from out of the back of his head. The frantic Flesh-eater shook, before dropping to the dusty floor. The boy kicked the dead bandit in the throat, and looked to the hills. Farron looked around, seeing nothing but sand and dunes for miles surrounding the abandoned factory. He could see a bright reflection off on a nearby sand hill. "A sniper! He''s going to save us!" shouted Farron as he excitedly ran over to Simon. The naive boy had accidentally alerted the remaining Flesh-eaters of the snipers presence. The surviving Flesh-eaters turned their attention to the far hills of sand. "I''ll get him with the shuttle!" shouted a smaller, frail Flesh-eater, "I''ll get him! Watch over the meat." The remaining two Flesh-eaters charged for cover from the sniper, while the frail Flesh-eater boarded the makeshift steel contraption, which resembled a strange speed boat on tank treads, and placed his piloting goggles on to protect his eyes from the sand. A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. "He''s reloading- I''ll get up on the hill and finish him! He can''t gimme'' when I''m moving," the frail Flesh-eater shouted, pointing at the hill with the light reflecting on it. The shuttle darted up and down the sand dunes towards the shining reflection on the knoll. The Flesh-eater wiped the sand from his aviator goggles. Protruding from the peak of the sandy knoll stood a long slender blade, partially drawn from its metal sheath. The exposed iron of the sword blinded the Flesh-eater at a glance, reflecting the blinding light of the bright sun into his eyes- the sniper had left him a decoy. "It''s a decoy, it''s a trap!" he shouted over the shuttle''s intercom, alerting to the rest of the crew through the speakers. The starving Flesh-eater turned the makeshift tank around. The sniper was on foot in the distance, racing towards the bandits at the dilapidated factory. He was going to save the captives. Wolf of the Wasteland - 4 - From Shadows I The sniper charged towards the remaining Flesh-eaters. "He''s down there!" the Flesh-eater screamed on the intercom, "Get him!" Both of the vile men donned thick plated wasteland armour, painted in vermilion. The furthest one had a thin body type but wore heavy armour plates with several blades strapped across the chest and waist. He covered his pale face in a protective gas mask. The closest one was heavily armoured, very muscular and wore no protective chest plates and was armed with a heavy iron axe with a makeshift rebar hilt. The sniper pulled off a long tattered cloak that was used to veil oneself from sight and the harsh sandstorms. Underneath the large cloak was a tight-fitting dark purple one-piece jumpsuit; a combat battlesuit streamlined for speed and ease of movement and worn primarily by the mech pilots during the end of the Golden Age. The sniper appeared to be a slender athletic girl in her early twenties. "Bloody... girl!" scoffed the approaching armoured Flesh-eater, as he swung wide with his left arm swiping his heavy rebar axe at the dashing girl who had entered his range. The girl quickly slid under the swing, and glided along the sandy floor directly under the Flesh-eater. In mid-slide she aimed and fired her rifle upwards at the Flesh-eater. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. The large rifle bucked with intense force as it launched a piercing round through his exposed muscular chest. The Flesh-eater began to spew blood as he clenched his flesh wound and dropped his heavy axe. Bleeding from a large bullet lodged near his heart, the Flesh-eater stared at the girl, who had ashen blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She wore thick yellow paint on her forehead down past her eyes and her fair skin was speckled with black grime; sprinkled with black oil, dirt and wasteland filth. Seeing the yellow infuriated the incapacitated Flesh-eater. The Flesh-eater tried to speak but couldn''t. "You missed me," muttered the girl. The Flesh-eater gargled his blood while clenching his fists as he attempted to take a step forward before collapsing to the floor. The sniper expelled the empty shell from the bolt-action sniper rifle with one fluid motion, and then turned her attention towards the remaining Flesh-eater, who approached cracking his knuckles with one hand and grasping at a large sword carried on his back. The sniper smiled. She enjoyed the rush of combat. Wolf of the Wasteland - 5 - From Shadows II The sniper expelled the empty shell from the bolt-action sniper rifle with one fluid motion, and then turned her attention towards the remaining Flesh-eater, who approached cracking his knuckles with one hand and grasping at a large sword carried on his back. The sniper smiled. She enjoyed the rush of combat. The Flesh-eater shook his head and pulled a large serrated knife from his leather holster at his waist. Standing directly in front of the young girl, the Flesh-eater smirked, and smacked his lips while examining her face. The girl wore thick yellow paint on her face. The paint completely covered her forehead and reached down past her bottom eyelids. "Covering up Mirra''s signature with yellow paint, are you?... The Mark of the Sun ain''t gonna protect you from us... Not from what I''m gonna do to yeah," laughed the bandit, "Can''t wait to see Mirra''s face when I bring back that head of yours," spoke the Flesh-eater, gesturing to the sniper by licking his lips. The sniper took a step backwards with her right foot, as the Flesh-eater drew a step forward with his left. "Why do you fight for Mirra? Bloody Mirra has no love you- you''re just a pawn," the girl responded, as she disarmed and swung her rifle over her shoulder using the chest strap and raised her hands up into a fighting stance. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. "She will love me!" he screamed. The Flesh-eater darted forward, lunging with the large serrated blade, as the girl paced two steps back. The Flesh-eater continued his lunge- only missing the agile sniper by a hair and landing his arm between her right arm and chest. The sniper pressed her arm against her chest, locking his arm and knife in place, and using his lunging momentum she turned sharply- charging him to the floor behind her, with her on top. While holding the struggling Flesh-eater down the girl placed her rifle against the back of his head and without hesitation pulled the trigger point-blank, spraying his blood on herself and the painting the floor- killing him instantaneously. The rifle jolted from the intense force of the recoil and became free of her tight grip. The strap of the rifle slid off her shoulder causing the rifle to fall to the dusty floor beside her. The sniper rose to her feet and began to survey the area for the final Flesh-eater and his shuttle-tank. His tread marks led away from the factory. He was in full flight. Wolf of the Wasteland - 6 - Introduction The sniper walked towards the Flesh-eater who sat in a pool of blood, bleeding out. He extended his arm towards the heavy axe beside him, failing to reach it and arm himself. The sniper pulled his heavy makeshift rebar axe out of the bloody sand and held it over his head for a brief moment, struggling to keep it still. "Mirra m''a tu¨¦" she whispered to the dying Flesh-eater in an unknown dialect, "Mirra''s mistake was letting me live." The sniper grasped the axe firmly in her two hands and began violently bashing in the Flesh-eater''s skull with his own solid weapon. She mashed his head into messy bits and pieces. The sniper laid beside the bloody mess for a few moments, catching her breath. She had waited many weeks for this hunt to pay off. The decoy on the hill, the travelers as her bait, her plan to lure out the Red of Mirra worked. A grin reached from ear to ear, as she sat down exhausted. She finally felt some satisfaction. The wounded wayfarer and his young company approached the exhausted sniper. "You''re... the Wolf of the Wasteland, aren''t you?" questioned Farron, the boy, who felt as if he was meeting a legend. The sniper turned her head away from the boy and spoke in gruff low voice. "Yeah," replied the sniper clearing her throat, "That''s what they call me." "Thank you for saving us!" shouted Adaline. "You''re really kind!" The sniper looked over at them and then turned her head in the opposite direction. "Leave your bottles of water on the floor. It''s the cost for what I''ve done," spoke the cold-hearted sniper, "The ammunition and food as well." "You''re robbing us?" questioned the surprised little boy. The boy held his finger over the trigger of the revolver and angled it up towards the sniper. "I''ll need something to trade for ammunition. I shot four rounds, and it saved four lives. Ammunition for ammunition. It''s a fair trade. These kind of rounds ain''t cheap." "This is all we have. Half a magazine for the old rifle, a dozen bottles of water, and several containers of grilled bird." spoke Simon as he took a standard issue rifle from the Old War from his daughter''s pack and emptied the contents of the tattered backpack on the floor, revealing ten portions of food, clothing, tools, containers of water and small trinkets. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. "The mag and the rifle- pass that to me," muttered the Wolf as she stared down at their rations, "Water, meat... Some of that as well." "No, we can''t afford to spare anything else..." Wolf gestured with her hand to hand the loot over, "you''ll have plenty left," she replied. "We won''t have anything to protect ourselves," replied the man as he ejected the magazine from the rifle. He quickly checked how many bullets remained in the magazine before handing both over to her. "You can''t leave us like this," shouted one of Simon''s daughters. "Chercher la petite b¨ºte," she huffed, speaking unknown words, "you all complain, but still you live." The Wolf pointed down at the rations on the floor, and gestured to the young boy to approach her. Farron picked up a portion of grilled bird in one of the plastic containers and handed it over to her along with three containers of clean water. "Fresh water...," she whispered in a soft voice, breaking character. The sniper spoke in a gruff voice once more, "Where did this water come from?" "A stream not far from here, just past the setting sun," replied Farron. Simon looked over at the boy and shook his head. The Wolf wrapped up the looted rifle, the rations, and her sniper rifle in her hefty desert cloak and swung the wrapped contents over her shoulder. "It''s been fun," she added, walking away from the group towards the tread marks leading across the ocean of sand. "Will we ever see you again?" the young boy shouted, before the older man grabbed a hold of him and covered the boys mouth from saying anything further. "Not if you still shoot like that," she replied, as she turned to look at the young boy. The boy looked down at the revolver that he still gripped tightly in his hands, and looked back up. The Wolf had vanished off into the distance, heading over to the sandy knoll where she left her decoy. Wolf of the Wasteland - 7 - Mechanized Wolf stood at the top of the sand dune overlooking the dilapidated factory. She could just barely see the travelers from her sandy knoll. One of them began to light a bonfire before the sun set while the other three scavenged the dead bodies of the Flesh-eaters for weapons, loot and wearable clothes. Wolf had never sat with company beside a fire before. She watched from a far curiously, she knew the risks of traveling with groups. Wolf looked over at her sword and sheath decoy and placed her sweaty palm against the hilt of the sword. She grasped the hilt firmly and pulled back. The sword drew from out of the sand, revealing a thin, single-edged blade of iron. She tied the metal scabbard to her belt at her waist and secured her sword in it. Kneeling down on the mound of sand, Wolf licked her chapped lips and whistled a tune. The raven soaring above descended towards her, resting on her extended arm. It cawed, stretching its wings. As the tune finished, the sand began shifting beneath her. It poured like water rushing down hill around her feet. A large metal floor emerged from under the shifting sands, and continued to rise like a sub-marine in a sea of sand. An enormous mechanical walker lifted from out of the sand, revealing a walking tank the size of a small two-story building with legs. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The shifting sand below her feet poured off of the giant contraption, lifting her up on top of the enormous bi-pedal machine. The machine''s outer metal shell was round, and crab-like in appearance, and had a large hatch built in on the roof. The tank stood up out of the sand with both arched legs extended. Wolf stood on top, high above the desert below. The winds of the wasteland swept her ashen blonde hair back and tickled her sweaty skin. She could see far down the horizon from up high. Two long-reaching mechanical arms stretched out from the side of the machine, dusting the remaining sand off the outer shell. Wolf whistled, commanding her tank to move forward. The machine stepped forward one foot at a time until it reached a steady pace following the tread marks away from the the travelers and old factory. Wolf looked at the group one last time. The four of them sat together at the bright bonfire sharing water and meat. Wolf turned her eyes to the tread marks down in the sand and then glanced back at the bonfire once more before exiting over the horizon in pursuit of her prey, the last remaining Flesh-eater. "Let the hunt begin." Wolf of the Wasteland - 8 - Family "You will fight for me, darling. You will fight for me," spoke the voice of a young girl veiled in shadow. Wolf struggled to open her eyes. She clawed at her face with her nails removing a caked on layer of candle wax. "But, I don''t want to. I want to go home," demanded Wolf as she looked for the source of the mysterious voice. "This is your home," replied the voice, "You do as I say." "It''s not," Wolf insisted, "I want to go back to my family!" "If we are not your family, then you truly don''t have a home." Wolf sat alone in a circular pool of red water. Her chains were heavy and slowly pulled her down into the red abyss. Her hands were shackled, her feet were shackled. There was no escape, no proper end. "Fight for me, darling," demanded the voice, "Die for me." Wolf''s shackles unlocked. She struggled to rip herself from out of the red water''s grasps. "Kill for me! Only then will you have a home!" shrieked the voice as if it was being screamed in her ear. A man in similar shackles emerged from the red water. He looked frightened, scared. "Stop it. Stop talking!" he screamed, "No, I won''t let her do it! I won''t die like this." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Realizing this man was insane, Wolf looked for a quick exit. The room only had walls, no doors or windows. She looked up to the ceiling. A chandelier hung in the middle of the room above the red pool, at the top was a hatch-door leading out. Wolf looked back down. The crazed man had been unshackled and stood right next to her. He stared her down with a bizarre look in his eyes. The man was frail and sickly. He was covered in scars and burns. "Shut up!" he yelled in her ear, "I can''t understand you!" "Kill for me, darling. Only then will I give you a home," insisted the whispering voice. The man reached over, grabbing and choking Wolf by the neck. Panicking, Wolf looked down at her hands. They were much smaller than she remembered. ''I''m just a little girl,'' she thought to herself, ''how am I suppose to fight him?'' "With your teeth and claws, like the wolf you are," whispered the eerie voice. Wolf shot upright. She had fallen asleep. Startled, Wolf stayed awake and watched as the sun crept over the horizon. Dawn had arrived. Authors Notes - 1 - For the Readers & Followers Hi there. I''m Fox and I love writing Wolf of the Wasteland. For the next few days I will be unable to write and release chapters. Usually I try to do two chapters a day, but soon it may have to be one chapter a day or so on as work has picked up. Thank you sincerely for the followers who jumped onboard early and for voting on the polls and commenting. I love reading and seeing the interactions/questions on the chapters. In the next chapters we will be getting to know Wolf better, her internal strife and how much she really knows about the world around her. We''ll start to see what survival in the wasteland is really like. What were your favorite moments so far? Comment below. I would love to see some opinions and reactions to the scenes in Wolf of the Wasteland. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I''m also pretty curious to hear feedback on the violence in the early chapters. Would you like it dialed down or dialed up? Was it completely unnecessary or was your heart racing as fast as Wolf''s was? Personally I love the experience of writing Wolf of the Wasteland so far. The unsettling detailed moments involving viscera and gore really pave the way for the more light-hearted experiences of almost bonding with settlers that she had just robbed moments ago. It sort of makes the small moments more meaningful. Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you are enjoying the ride. I''ll try to do these sort of segments every ~10 chapters or so. Bye for now! Wolf of the Wasteland - 9 - Heat The afternoon sun shined down blinding her view of the horizon. Wolf covered her eyes with her arm while brushing the grains of sand and dirt from her long ashen blonde hair. It heated the metal roof of her machine, burning Wolf''s rear as she sat down on the roof bathing in the warmth. Wolf placed her fingers on the metal zipper of her Old War military battlesuit and dragged it down, unzipping and exposing her upper body to the cool breeze of the moving winds. It felt refreshing and revitalizing, and relaxed the intense Wolf. Blood, sweat and sand covered her exposed skin. Wolf swept her filth-covered hands across her moist face. Wolf''s raven sat perched on the metal railing beside her sniper rifle. His head turned frantically as he examined the far hills of sand. The blend of sweat and sand began to peel and remove the canary yellow paint from off of her forehead and eyelids. A scar in the shape of a partially covered letter peaked out from underneath the layers of dry paint on her forehead. Wolf pried the top half of her dark purple battlesuit off. Her toned chest and stomach dripped of sweat. Under her unzipped suit she wore a black two-piece swimsuit. Looking up at the scorching sun she panted, exhausted by the blazing heat. Her raven flipped his wings giving Wolf a momentary breeze. "Thank you, Loki," she smiled at her raven. Wolf slipped her arms through the arm holes of her one-piece suit and peeled the battlesuit from off of her upper body, which remained glued to her lower body. She leaned over and cranked opened the roof hatch of the metal walker. Reaching down, she pulled out a thick tattered blanket and her hefty cloak of wrapped-up loot and laid down on-top of her walker. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Wolf unwrapped her raveled up cloak and pulled out the three containers of clean water. She remembered the face of the little boy when he spoke to her. ''You''re robbing us?'' she recalled him say. Wolf smiled, shaking her head. Popping off the plastic container lids she took a swig of water. The liquid moistened her dry chalky throat and her chapped lips. She felt as if she could feel the cool liquid running throughout her warm body. Wolf reached into her cloak-bag and ripped open the single container of grilled vulture and began devouring it like a starving hound. The meat was well cooked and tender. The fatty oils of the meat dripped from her mouth as she bit into it. She ate not only the meat but the gristle as well. She tossed a small chunk of meat onto the metal roof for her raven. "I hope it''s not too weird eating another kind of bird," she spoke to her bird, as he glanced at her and then at the cooked meat interested. Gnawing on the left-over bones of the meal Wolf closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep but she couldn''t. Not in this heat. Wolf listened to the stomps of her metal walker as it continued to follow the tread marks in the sand. It was like clockwork, repeating in a perfect pattern. The flesh-eater was her only way of finding Bloody Mirra. He would have to stop for gas or water. He wouldn''t be far, she thought. Beep, beep, beep, alerted her enormous metal tank as it ceased to a halt. The metal walker had detected something nearby. Wolf of the Wasteland - 10 - In the Clouds Beep, beep, beep, alerted her walker as it ceased to a halt. It had detected something nearby. Wolf darted upwards and quickly slid over to her gun which was hooked to a metal railing on the roof of her walker. Arming herself with her bolt-action sniper rifle she peered off into the horizon. Her abrupt movement spooked her raven, who flew upwards into the air. Breep, announced the walker, bree, beep. The walker made distinct sounds, noises that Wolf could interpret and understand. The walker extended his left arm which was a high-caliber machine gun, upwards and pointed Wolf in the direction of an enormous pile of trash and debris. Wolf adjusted her scope on the top of her large rifle and aimed at the garbage heap. The walker opened the palm of its right metal hand, breep, breep. Wolf nodded her head and leaped off of the metal roof and onto the walker''s open mechanical palm with her sniper rifle in hand. The mechanical walker leaned over, cranking its arm back. Wolf crouched down in the palm of its mechanical hand. The gears and oiled pistons of the mechanical arm covered her fingers in black oil and grime. Wolf closed her eyes and wiped the black grime across her eyes, marking herself with good luck. Wolf looked up to the beautiful clear sky to see her soaring raven up in the heavens. Breep, the walker sounded off as it flung Wolf straight into the air like a baseball. Wolf flew directly above the walker straight up into the air. It felt as if she was able to touch the clouds. Her raven flew in, and around her, circling the mid-air girl. Wolf peered through the scope of her rifle and surveyed the trash heap from up high in the air. She could see something scavenging through the trash behind the fields of garbage and debris. A Mannequin. A thin skeletal metal automaton scavenged through the trash. They were scavengers of valuables and ammunition. These automatons impersonated men by wearing thick garments and their outer shell was a made of a porcelain-like plating. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Wolf angled and adjusted her shot before pulling the rifle''s trigger, firing in mid-air. The heavy thunderous round darted towards the scavenging robot with a loud sounding crack. The Mannequin turned its attention to the hovering sniper in the sky. The bullet pierced and blew the Mannequin''s head clean off of its thin metal body. Black grimy oils and clear lubricants squirted and poured from the detached tubing and frayed wiring. The jolt of the fired rifle sent Wolf backwards in the air. The momentum of the walker''s throw began to slow. Wolf glanced over the endless hills and fields of sand and debris. She could see what seemed to be the shuttle, but it was far from her position. Wolf began to plummet downwards at intense speeds. Her heart raced. She tried to catch a breath but couldn''t. The cold force of air chilled her body and blew strongly against her face. She panicked as she fell from the sky squinting to see through the rushing air. Her raven darted downwards, chasing her, as she crashed towards the soft sandy terrain. Within a second from colliding with the sands below Wolf watched in slow-motion as the walker swept her up in mid-air and cradled her like an infant. Bree, bree, breep, the walker sounded as it cradled her with a sense of humour. "¨¤ la fin," she replied with a huge grin, "put me down already!" Wolf dropped down onto the sand below. Grains of sand leaped into the air as her feet dug into the desert floor. Wolf zipped up her bodysuit and brushed the sand from her hair. "Allez, allez!" she commanded, running towards the debris pit. Mannequin''s were well-known for carrying the best loot to offer in the wasteland. She was excited to examine her first mid-air kill, even though it was only an automaton. Wolf of the Wasteland - 11 - The Fray Beep, alerted her walker who pointed to a pile of debris and metal. Wolf cautiously approached the trash heap. The mangled Mannequin laid behind the trash heap beside a collection of empty aluminum cans. It shook sporadically. One arm moved, attempting to reconnect frayed wires. It looked as if it was trying to repair itself. The Mannequin''s other arm failed to move. Black oils and grease covered the spot where she hit it with her bullet and left a trail to its new resting spot. The walker pointed its large metal hand at the pile of cans. Breep, he sounded. "These are just empty cans, Goalie," she muttered to her walker. Wolf looked over at the detached head of the automaton. It stared back at her, blinking, and watching her every move. The porcelain-like plating of the automaton made the metal being look like one of Bloody Mirra''s old dolls. She understood why people called them mannequins. The Mannequin had a large sack full of trinkets and treasures. Wolf rifled through the large sack and pulled out cartridges of ammunition for varies firearms, knifes and blades, and complicated gadgets and technology. Wolf passed the heavy sack to her walker, who loaded it into its cargo hull. The walker once again pointed with its large right hand at the pile of cans. "Alright, fine I''ll check them," she replied, slightly annoyed. Reaching in to the pile of empty cans she pulled out an unopened can with no tab to open it. Wolf examined the full can and gently shook it beside her ear. It contained liquids. Unable to read the words of the can, Wolf leaned the can backwards slightly. She could feel with her finger where the thin can was weakest when the air inside rose to the bottom. Wolf pressed her finger through the thin aluminum can, creating a thumb-sized hole through it. Wolf quickly pressed the open can to her lips and drank the pouring brown liquid. The liquid was sweet and bubbly and full of sugars. It delighted Wolf''s taste buds as she sipped through the tiny hole. She had never had this sort of drink before. In minutes the delicious sugar drink was empty. Wolf laid down her rifle. She hopped over closer to the pile and began searching for more unopened ones. Beep, alerted her large machine, beep beep. Wolf paid no attention to Goalie as she dug through the aluminum can graveyard. A thin barbed metal stake pierced through Wolf''s arm. Wolf turned towards the sharp excruciating pain and drew her sword from the sheath belted at her waist. The barbed stake through her arm was connected to a fishing line. A harpoon and chain method used by Wasteland scavengers. Wolf tugged on the fishing line and followed the line with her eyes. The stake pulled her to the dusty floor of debris and dragged her through the loose trash. Wolf reached for her rifle on the ground but it was already out of reach. "Look what we have here," announced the scavenger who held a reeling rifle, a wasteland contraption that fired fine metal stakes attached to lines with an engine built-in to reel in the hooked prey. Wolf sliced the line with her sharp sword, freeing herself from being pulled any further. She pressed her nails into the dirt to stop the momentum of the sliding from the pull. A large group of scavengers emerged from behind the heaps of debris and trash. They enclosed around the wounded Wolf, armed with reeling rifles and various Wastelander favorites such as chainsaws, long single-edged blades, and lances built from sharp serrated blades welded to metal rods. A handful of the scavengers were dressed in make-shift scrap-metal armour and worn out gas masks. Wolf knew her sword was too thin and fragile to strike through their welded armour. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She licked her chapped lips and whistled a tune. Her enormous metal giant, Goalie, charged towards the large force of scavengers. The scavengers fired their barbed stakes towards Wolf, who dived to the floor, sliding towards the first scavenger who shot her arm. Her machine swept up two of the armed men and crushed them to the dusty floor with its large right hand, pulverizing them into a blend of thick red paste and mangled armour with limbs and pieces protruding from the sides of the flattened mess. The scavengers turned their focus on the large machine. Wolf used this to her advantage. Unable to reload his reeling rifle in time, the first scavenger tossed his gun to the floor and drew a slender, curved blade from the scabbard around his waist. The man swung at the dashing Wolf, who leaned over mid-dash- evading it. Another scavenger looked over at his comrade, and ran towards them to assist in the fight. Wolf charged the scavenger and aimed for his knee, dislocating it with a heavy kick. The scavenger fell to his knees, yelling in pain. The second scavenger charged into the fray with a long jagged lance. The first scavenger with no other option, swung his sword in desperation as he knelt on the floor. Wolf held her thin blade up and parried his swing- sending his sword to the floor beside her. The second scavenger jolted forward thrusting his lance at her. The thin barbed stake through her arm tore her skin as she swung her blade, causing her to miss her first swing. Wolf leaped up onto the long thrusting lance and with a quick flick of the wrist, she slit the first man''s throat with a clean swing of her razor-like blade. Noticing how ineffective his lance was on Wolf, the second scavenger dropped his lance, and drew a handgun from his belt. "Enough with this," he insisted, "I''ll kill you the easy way." Wolf darted behind the first scavenger who held his throat together with his hands as blood rushed out of the deep laceration. "Wait," he gargled, trying to speak through his neck wound. The second man fired into his comrade. The first man shook as each shot lodged into him. Wolf held up the dead scavenger as cover and reached into his holster pulling out a loaded handgun. The second scavenger fired at Wolf, piercing a hole through the dead man''s neck. Wolf stuck the short barrel of the dead man''s handgun through the fresh hole and fired back, effortlessly popping the second scavenger in the head. The second scavenger fell to the dusty floor dead on impact. "You wanted to do it the easy way," she sighed, holding the stake that penetrated her arm. Wolf slowly pulled out the barbed stake from the opposite end so that the hooks were faced outwards. The pain was excruciating. Wolf turned her attention to her giant mech, Goalie. Goalie lifted up its left arm and fired its anti-materiel Gauss cannon at the armoured scavengers, shattering their armour on impact and dismembering them. The massive rounds of its gun left them looking as if a grenade went off. He took away the fun, she thought. Goalie was surrounded by dozens of scavengers, all firing their rifles and tossing fire bottles at it. The scavengers were trying to down the enormous machine to loot its cargo and wares. The mech itself was worth a fortune in ammunition. Wolf quietly leaped behind the group of scavengers and retrieved her sniper rifle. She pulled back the rifle''s bolt and expelled the empty shell from her earlier shot. "¨¤ la vie , ¨¤ la mort," she whispered. Wolf swung her rifle onto her back with its shoulder strap. She cocked and reloaded her newfound handgun. Wolf looked over, and analyzed her targets. She briefly hesitated, and then charged towards the scavengers- into the fray. Wolf of the Wasteland - 12 - Black Feathers Wolf swung her rifle onto her back. She checked her ammunition before cocking her handgun. Wolf looked over, analyzing her targets. The swarm of scavengers kept growing in size. She briefly hesitated, before swiftly darting closer to their position. "Disable that Gauss cannon!" shouted a scavenger to get comrades as he aimed at the large mechanical walker, "Aim at the power lines- the left arm!" Wolf dashed over piles of rusting metal and withered trash, taking cover behind the shattered metal wing of an Old War plane. "We''re runnin'' low on rounds. When''s that walker of ours showin'' up?" yelled another scavenger beside the man. The sounds of clashing metal and firing rifles muffled their conversation. "We got the pilot already, right?" questioned one of the men looking around the area. The scavenger turned around and noticed the two scavenger bodies. The man stared at his two dead comrades. He reached for another magazine for his rifle in his jacket''s deep pockets. Wolf emerged from behind the trash heap slicing her sword through the reloading scavenger''s neck. His severed neck sprayed blood in the air as she decapitated him within an instant. The large mechanical walker''s cannons began to fail. It''s defenses had been breached, it''s joints became stiff. Goalie turned to Wolf''s direction, breep, it sounded. Wolf could see that her walker wouldn''t last much longer. She realized she made a mistake coming into an enclosed area. She was trapped and cornered. Wolf whistled twice loudly alerting the crew of scavengers. Goalie looked at Wolf, before charging away from the debris pit, leaving Wolf behind. She had commanded him to return to their last resting point- the old factory. Wolf watched as her walker and all of her supplies left without her. The scavengers turned, facing Wolf''s direction. One of the men fired his revolver at her. Wolf slid to the dusty floor dodging the bullet. She stumbled on bits and pieces of serrated metal shards and discarded junk. Wolf removed the sharp metal bits from her knees as she crouched. The scavenger fired another round off from his revolver as he approached closer. Wolf sprung up from her crouched position and batted the bullet with her thin blade. Her quick reflexes directed the bullet away from her but caused the razor-thin blade of her sword to shatter on impact. Dashing behind the tangled heaps of rusted girders and frames, Wolf tried to lose the men through the thick of debris. "She''s down here, over here!" shouted one of the men. Wolf stuck out her handgun out of a small gap in the debris and fired rapidly, maiming the approaching scavenger and several of the men behind him before the clip ran dry. Wolf continued to crawl under the rusted metal, digging through the heaps of plastic and garbage. A shiny panel of tin reflected the image of her face back at her. Her blue eyes were surrounded in smears of black grime. The canary yellow paint on her forehead peeled away revealing the scar of an M carved into her forehead. A sharp hook of a reeling rifle jabbed into her leg. Wolf held onto the panel of tin but it was no use. The line pulled her through the sharp metal bits and dust, exposing her to the crowd of scavengers. "I got her!" alerted a scavenger, prying Wolf from out of the debris by her legs. Wolf dragged her fingers through the loose sand. She tried to fight the wire back from reeling in but it was it useless. She pulled and tugged on the wire to get some slack. Wolf pulled the line and bent over, cutting the line from her leg with teeth. She watched as the swarm of men began to surround her position. Wolf felt the weight of her handgun. It was noticeably lighter, she had fired all of her rounds. She threw her empty handgun at the crowd of men and looked down at the shattered sword in her hand. She pressed the trigger on her sword''s hilt, releasing the shattered blade from the hilt onto the sand below. Wolf sheathed her hilt, and attached it to a spare blade held by the multi-blade sheath belted at her waist. Four scavengers surrounded the wounded, cornered Wolf, armed with serrated blades and tire irons. The men stepped forward approaching her. Wolf stepped back, cautiously. Wolf backed into the corner, her pale blue eyes began to shift colour, turning into a fiery light red like a smoldering coal. She panted frantically, breathing in and out as if she was hyper-ventilating. Cracking her knuckles, Wolf let out a sinister smile. Wolf darted abruptly towards the approaching men with sword in hand. One of the scavengers shot his reeling rifle bolt, missing the dashing Wolf. The closest scavenger swung his heavy iron rod at her, missing her as well. Wolf dived on top of the closest man and began frantically jabbing the him with her slender blade. Wolf slid her blade through his gut before charging towards the next man in her vicinity. The first scavenger sat holding his entrails from falling out as he bled out on the sandy desert ground. The second closest scavenger charged in with his medium-length blade. He swung, grazing Wolf''s cheek. Wolf attempted to evade by she swinging her head back, but caught a nick. Wolf jumped forward piercing her sword through the assailant''s chest, leaving it in briefly, before kicking him to the floor. Diving on top of the injured man, Wolf held him down, pressing her sharp nails into his skin. Wolf ripped into his throat with her teeth. Blood dripped from her lips as she stared menacingly at the remaining scavengers. Wolf pulled her sword from out of the suffering man''s chest who was drowning in his own blood from the punctured lung and tear in his throat. More scavengers flanked her position surrounding and cornering Wolf. One of the men fired his reeling rifle into Wolf''s thigh. Wolf instinctively slit the fishing line before she could be pulled. Wolf turned her attention towards him, ready to charge. The stake through her thigh bled through her dark purple battlesuit, dripping down her leg. Three more barbed stakes launched towards her. Wolf attempted to evade, stumbling from her wounds. The barbed stakes pierced through her clothes and broke through her skin. The stakes punctured her legs and arms, pulling her in opposite directions. Wolf became suspended off of the floor. She was locked in place unable to move. She felt like a helpless fly in a spider''s web. Wolf''s eyes reverted back to her normal bright blue. She looked confused, and attempted to pull herself free of the web of strung wires and lines. She stared figures standing on top of the heaps of debris. Men in black cloaks surrounded them. "No," she whispered to herself, pulling at the lines stuck into her, "Harbingers..." A loud siren blared in the distance. The scavengers turned their direction to the men in black cloaks surrounding their position. "These are our lands!" warned the scavengers, "You have no rights here!" Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Hovering ships descended down into the debris pit. The men in black cloaks cautiously approached with rifles in hand. "Any man that doesn''t surrender and lay down their arms will be shot," announced a voice over an intercom. Several hovering skiffs and floating barges swarmed in over the heaps of trash and metal, surrounding their position. "This is Aldra''s pit! This is her scrap!" screamed a defiant scavenger, "We fear none but Goddess Aldra!" The scavenger fired his handgun at one of the approaching cloaked men, killing him. The corpse of the cloaked man rolled off of the debris and onto the dusty floor creating a brief cloud of dust as he collided with the sand. Wolf tugged on the wires that held her in place. Using the slack in the line Wolf pulled it looser and cut her arm free with her blade. Wolf looked over at the dead Harbinger. He wore a strange back veil over his face and appeared to be wearing no armour. Rounds fired off from the cloaked men into the disobeying scavenger. The scavenger fell to the floor. Red ran down his chest from the many puncturing, bloody holes. He coughed, spitting blood to the floor. "Long live Aldra," he muttered before losing consciousness. A black cloaked man disembarked the barge and looted the fallen scavenger, "Filthy nomads," he spoke. "Lay down your arms," commanded one of the scavengers, "Harbingers. No one has faced the feathered-men and lived to tell about it." "Aldra will gut us. She''ll hang our entrails down into the dark pits," argued another scavenger. "The Harbingers will gut us long before then," he replied tossing his reeling rifle to the floor. A large force of men dressed in all-black cloaks disembarked their hovering skiffs. In their hands were strange, large weapons with clockwork bits. The swarm of scavengers dropped their weapons, disarming themselves and surrendering to the Harbingers. The Harbingers tied the group of men down with thick black ropes, and hung them from a mesh net under their hovering skiffs. They were now prisoners of war. "Bring that girl to me- the one in chains!" ordered the Leader of the Harbingers, who stared at the girl surrounded in massacred scavenger bodies, "Ashen hair, blue eyes and a pretty face. We''re in the graces of a legend, men. The Wolf of the Wasteland." The Harbinger men dragged Wolf through the dust pulling her by the lines embedded into her clothes and skin. The leader approached holding out his strange mechanical arm, gesturing Wolf to stand up. His face was covered by the mask of a crow or raven. The eye holes in the mask were like black chasms and showed no man behind them. "Alas, we finally meet," spoke the Head Harbinger, "I am the Overseer of the Harbingers, Thal Sirren. But, you... You need no introductions. We all know who you are," he smiled, "You are the bloody Wolf. You''re the one the slaves pray to while we drag them across the sea of sand." The Overseer stepped closer to Wolf, "You''re the one the slavers curse as you hunt them down like rabbits. I''ve seen your work in person. You gut them and dice them like a bloody butcher. Those are my men, Wolf. We''ve paid them to do a simple job, and then you come along out of the filthy sand and gut them. You''ve stolen from me, and I want it all back." A group of Harbinger men approached Wolf with a large ring device. Wolf looked down at the stakes and lines holding her down. She stared up above at her raven, who soared in circles above, as they placed a large metal collar around her neck. The man turned around facing his large fleet of hovering cruisers, "Problem with these feats of yours, Wolf... The things you do interfere with my plans. The slaves you free, the lives you think you''re saving, the men you kill while doing all of it... All of it affects my empire. The caravans you destroy affects me, the men you slay affects me." The Overseer stepped back, "Why aren''t you talking? Did these bloody scrappers cut out your tongue? Do you not see how this affects me? Do you not see how we both can not co-exist?" Thal Sirren stood in thought for a moment. "Those men you murder, the slave-masters, they are just doing simple jobs- with families they pray to return to. Now do you see the damage you cause? You rob them of that. You rob them of the chance to return home, that''s what your killing does." Wolf let out a smile, holding in a faint laugh. The Overseer looked aggravated. "Does that not make you feel, Wolf? Are you as cold as they say?" "I feel nothing for those kinds of men," she spoke, in a gruff tone. "Ah, talking. I had to be sure you could. You are right, the men I hire are monsters. They deserve punishment." The Overseer placed his hands against her face. "I realized one thing growing up in the wasteland, Wolf. I realized men don''t fear other men. They fight, they bicker, and kill each other, and they never listen. But, what men do fear- is monsters. They fear Bloody Mirra, they fear Aldra, they fear the demented, so I employ the demented. The most potent tool of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed, Wolf. I''ve wanted to have this talk with you for some time. I''ve never understood how you''ve avoided having this conversation with me." Wolf silently pulled the last wire from out of her skin while listening to the Overseer ramble on. "What I''m really trying to say is, you owe me, Wolf. That''s what it comes down to. You''ve stolen from me, and I want it all back. You fight for me and in turn together we will end the Red of Mirra. We will end Bloody Mirra''s reign together. Isn''t that all you''ve ever wanted?" Wolf looked up at the Overseer. "Why do you want Mirra dead?" she questioned curiously. "Mirra infests my lands, kills my people, and claims my settlements. The Harbingers will not remain idle any longer." "Free the wasteland of Harbinger chains and I will help you kill Mirra," she insisted. The Overseer turned and approached Wolf, aggravated. The Overseer held up his hand as if he planned to strike her. Wolf, free of the lines holding her back held her sword firmly in her hand. The Overseer placed his finger over her lips, "You make no requests. You are my slave now. You are free when Mirra''s head is on my lap. Until then you are nothing but my pet." The Overseer stared at the debris pit around them, confused. "Where is that walker of yours?" questioned the Overseer, "I was told it would be here. I believe it has some of our property. You know the machine I''m talking about. That Old War Goliath unit." Wolf looked at the Overseer and laughed. "Oh well, I suppose we have plenty of time for questions." The metal collar around Wolf''s neck began to tighten. Wolf tried to breathe, but she couldn''t. She began to feel disoriented and hazy, before dropping to the dusty floor. The Overseer looked over at his men, "Tie her up under the barge. We''ll be taking her as well." Authors Notes - 2 - Red-Eyed Wolf Discussion Hi there. I''m Fox, the author of Wolf of the Wasteland. In our last chapter (12, Black Feathers) Wolf enters another state of mind, sort of like activating an ability or going ham/super saiyan. It doesn''t really do her much good in the end. The reeling rifles disrupt her fighting style too much for her to combat the men like she usually does, which gets her trapped and desperate for the first time in the series. What are your opinions of her entering this next-level ability/form? What about that chapter? Wolf''s red-eyed mode is rather brutal. She sort of enters a primal instinct/destroy everything mode by blacking out and surrendering herself to the chaos. What''s your opinion on it? What it too gruesome/unappealing for Wolf''s character? Wolf has usually been in control of the situation until now and it made me iffy about some of those sequences. I was sitting there like ''but.. Wolf wouldn''t handle the situation like that?!'' for some of the scenes in that chapter, but she was left with not many options. She fell into a trap the moment she came into contact with the Mannequin from earlier, possibly it was being carefully watched or hunted. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. The reasoning behind her getting caught in the end is that to grow and meet others she sort of has to be forced to. We all know she wouldn''t give anyone the time of day in this period of her life- solo has always worked out too well for her, but now that she is a captive we will get to see some growth. She''s locked out of her element and there''s not much to lose when you''re a prisoner. Thanks for reading! Don''t forget to comment below! :) Wolf of the Wasteland - 13 - Dungeon "She''ll wake up soon enough." "Is she going to make it?" "She''s only unconscious. See this collar, when activated it cuts off the oxygen supply." "I mean, the wounds. She''s covered in lacerations." "They will heal, pass me the blanket. We need to make bandages." "Alright. Here''s that needle. I''ll see if I can pull some thread." "Perfect, thanks." Wolf could feel as the needle entered through her sensitive skin, repeating as they stitched closed her many wounds. "Are we going to take her with us?" "I''m not sure." "Take me where?" spoke the conscious Wolf, as she opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, looking around the room. Wolf sat in a small cell surrounded in walls and thick bars of iron. She looked at her company, a young girl and a young woman in her late twenties. The woman was very tall and slender with long black hair in a low ponytail. She had nice dark, almond shaped eyes. The young girl, who was much shorter, had dark tan skin and deep set eyes. Her eyes were a mesmerizing sharp green, and she had her long golden hair braided to the side. "H-Hello" spoke the woman nervously, "I''m Ama, Ama Terasa and this is Nissa Or''iel. We saw that you were bleeding and felt we should do what we can to stitch you up." Wolf looked down at her stitches. Her suit had been taken, leaving her bare with only her black undergarments to cover her up. The small cell had a small window for light and a single old wooden bench. The floor was made of old crumbling stone. There was a small bucket in the far corner, a thin stained blanket, and a few bones, but not much else. The room was cold and dark and desolate. "Where''s my rifle?" Wolf questioned. "They brought you in like this. Your clothes and equipment aren''t here." Wolf looked at the women and then over at the old withered bench. "We''re going to escape," blurted the younger girl, "are you in?" "Nissa, shush," interrupted Ama. "No," Wolf immediately replied. "No? Why?" questioned the curious girl, "These men are monsters. We''re nothing but fodder in here." "I''m not leaving. Not without my rifle." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "I''ve got a ship. We won''t have to worry about the feathered-men chasing us. We can get you a new rifle," Ama added. "That stitching needle won''t be able to pick that lock on these kinds of cell doors, I''ve tried it before." Wolf questioned intrigued, "How would you escape?" "Nova symbiote," Ama revealed a ball of pitch-black gel in the palm of her hand, "When I stick it against the cell walls it will deteriorate as the symbiote eats away at it." "Why haven''t you left then?" Wolf muttered, turning her head away. "On the other side of these walls are armed men. We aren''t capable fighters. We were hoping you were," Nissa chimed in. Wolf smirked, "How do you expect me to kill Harbingers with no clothes, no weapons and wounds throughout my body?" "I... I don''t know," Ama replied, sullen, "It''s all we''ve got. We don''t have any other options." Wolf tugged on the collar around her neck, "And this thing will probably kill me before any of that happens." "Here, We can fix that right now," Ama placed the Nova Symbiote against Wolf''s collar. "What is that?" questioned Wolf as she pulled away from Ama. Wolf stood up, and stumbled a step away from the approaching woman. "A symbiotic life-form," explained Ama as she applied it to the collar around Wolf''s neck, "It bonds with the consciousness of its host. It will understand that the collar is causing a negative effect and dissolve it for you." "I thought it was considered a parasite by the Ordo Solarus, Ama?" questioned the puzzled Nissa. "It''s a bit of both. It''s in the middle ground. Depending on the host it decides for itself." The Nova Symbiote wrapped around Wolf''s neck, massaging her. Wolf felt relaxed and comforted. It began to dissolve the metal bands around the collar, weakening the grip around her throat. "See, it wants to help you," Ama insisted with a big smile. The symbiote began to make Wolf feel intoxicated and dizzy. Wolf stumbled to her knees, before collapsing to the floor. Wolf struggled to keep her eyes open. She crawled towards the small window of light in the cell before passing out. Wolf of the Wasteland - 14 - The Escape Wolf rose, sitting up. She peered down at her scantily clad body, which was now covered in the Nova Symbiote''s gel-like surface. Wolf felt the collar around her neck. It was still in tact. "It didn''t work," spoke Nissa Or''iel, "The symbiote didn''t remove the collar like it was suppose to." Wolf stood up, feeling rejuvenated from her deep sleep. Her wounds had healed over night. The dark black life-form covered Wolf''s body, reminding her of the feel of her old battlesuit. It was comforting but felt so different. She placed her palm against her chest, feeling her heart. She had an abnormally slow heartbeat while wearing the Nova Symbiote. "The feathered-men took Ama. They said they had a potential buyer," added Nissa, who sulked on the bench in the back of the dim-lit cell. Wolf looked over at Nissa. Wolf almost looked genuinely worried for her safety. "C¡¯est vraiment des conneries. Will we still escape?" questioned Wolf. "We can''t. It''s impossible, and even if we could- I''m not leaving without Ama," she demanded, standing up. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Wolf let out a smirk, "We will take back nos amis." Nissa looked at Wolf puzzled, "What?", she questioned. "Our friends, our friends...," Wolf corrected herself, "your female friend and my rifle. We will take them back." "Ohhhh," replied Nissa, cluing in, "Yes, we must save Ama!" "Will this gel still bust open the lock for us?" Wolf asked. "Nope. Ama tried it while you were passed out. We are stuck." "Flies in a web," Wolf huffed, "I guess we sit and wait." "But... Ama..." Nissa approached Wolf, "we have to help her." Wolf stood silent and idle, staring at the useless objects in the small cell. "How?" Wolf questioned as she leaned over, plopping her bottom on the floor, "It''s locked." The two girls sat together in the cold, damp, dungeon, waiting in sullen silence. Wolf of the Wasteland - 15 - The Escape II Wolf sat on the window ledge, staring out of the dungeon cell''s small window. "There is nothing but sand out there," Nissa spoke as she folded the old blanket into a hat. "I miss sand," replied Wolf, "I miss feeling it between my toes. I miss brushing it out of my hair." "But, I doubt you miss getting it in your pants," Nissa laughed, placing her new make-shift hat on her head. Wolf looked at the distance horizon. A raven flew towards them, up high in the clouds. "Loki, is it you?" she muttered to herself. Nissa looked over at Wolf uncertain if she was talking to her. "What''s your name by the way?" Nissa questioned, "You never did introduce yourself." Wolf turned to Nissa and turned away, staring out of the barred window. "Do you have a name?" She continued. "I had a name when I was a young girl. My family named me after my grandmother," Wolf replied, deep in thought. "It''s hard for me to remember those days. They were so long ago," she added. "If you could pick any name, what would you choose for yourself?" Nissa asked. Wolf looked over at Nissa, "I wouldn''t," she replied shaking her head, "I wouldn''t choose one." "Why?" questioned the young girl. "Names set you up for trouble. Anonymity can be safety, especially in a place like this." "But, what do I call you then? Everything must have a name." Wolf smiled, the young girl beamed of determination. "They call me Wolf," she replied, pointing out the window, "Wolf of the Wasteland." "Wolf?" Nissa questioned, confused. "I''ve never liked it, but everything must have a name," she laughed. "Back to your cell, sweet cheeks," commanded an approaching guard, "Thal Dethrene doesn''t even want you. We might just have to keep you after all." An armoured guard walked down the dark corridor pushing Ama Terasa along. He wore heavy iron plating with a long tattered black cape, standard uniform for feathered-men dungeon keepers. Ama smiled at the two girls. She was happy to be reunited with them. "What are you looking at? You want to be put over there?" the guard scoffed, "Right, right. You''re in the next cell- with the men." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. "Hey! You can''t put her in the mens cell!" shouted Nissa as she ran to the bars, screaming down the corridor. "Shut it, slave. I can do it if it pleases me," he replied unlocking the doors to the male dungeon, "They haven''t seen a good show in months." Excited, the men in the second cell sprang up, walking towards the cell entrance dragging their shackles along the floor. "Ama!" Nissa yelled, falling to her knees in tears. She felt a sharp pain in her knees. Nissa dug her hands into the dark cell corner- a large old bone. Wolf watched quietly from her perch near the window, observing all of the emotions at play. "I''m going to gut you, you know!" Nissa screamed, cursing at the guard with the large bone in her hand. "Gut me?" he laughed. The guard turned toward Nissa, approaching her, "How would do that? You''re a little girl. A toddler! What are you going to do? Jab out my eyes?" "You want me to jab out your eyes? I will. Come here!" she replied. The guard walked over to Nissa, leaving Ama unattended. "How do you plan to do that?" he laughed, "Just saying those words to me has you right dead. I''m bringing you over to the barracks now. Tonight will be the worst of your short life. Tomorrow, even worse." Ama swiftly reached for the distracted guard''s handgun on his holster, pulling it out. Ama cocked the handgun and kicked the guard, booting him towards Nissa and the cell bars. The young girl grabbed a hold the guard''s long black cloak and tugged hard, pulling him closer and closer. Ama darted forward, pushing him and shoving his face through the short gaps in the iron bars. The young girl charged towards him with bone in hand. She began jabbing and carving his face with it as he screamed in agony. Nissa, true to her word, used the large bone to pry out the man''s eyes as he flailed, locked in place. Wolf sat back, watching the entertainment. It was refreshing to watch someone else do the work for once, she thought. Ama grabbed the singular key from the guard''s necklace and shoved it into the cell lock. She pushed the key into the lock and tried to turn it. The lock failed to turn. The doors would not open. "This guard only had the key to the men''s cells..." she replied, panicking. Authors Notes - 3 - Revival Hey there! I''m Fox. I''m the Author of Wolf of the Wasteland, Demon Saga: Phoenix Dancer, and Monolith. I''m thinking of continuingthe Wolf of the Wasteland series, but it may only be a few chapters every so often, or it may have to wait until Phoenix Dancer is done. Comment below what you think I should do. Wolf and Phoenixare a lot of fun to write and I''m glad you guys are enjoying the stories!! Wolf of the Wasteland is such a blast to think about and write. I love journeying into her desert world and tinkering with ideas and concepts. Her fights are wayy crazier than my other works. It''s like a gruesome combat commentary with fast and short sentences to show the speed at which she is fighting in. I''d love for it to become a graphic novel. Sadly, I don''t have the time to write forall of my projects at the moment with my new hours at work. It may change and I may get some more time to write, but we will have to see.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Wolf is sort of niche, especially on Royal Road. It''s hard to gain followers and good ratings with a hyper-violent action light novel, but it''s so fun to write. So I definitely want to continue it in some shape or form. If you haven''t checked out Demon Saga: Phoenix Dancer,you should! It is much lighter in tone and violence but it has a very rich world teeming with detail and fun characters. As always, thank you for being a supporter of my works by following. It means a lot! Hopefully one day I will make enough money from writing to do it full-time and not on my free-time.