Free Rise of the Valiant by Morgan Rice Page B

his back, holding it out in front of him, its back atop his stomach, its
legs kicking in the air. The other beast, airborne, landed with his fangs—and
instead of finding a target in Alec, the fangs sunk into the exposed belly of
the other beast. Alec held on tight, using it as a shield, as it shrieked and
squirmed. Finally, he felt it go limp in his arms as its hot blood poured out
all over him.
    It was a moment
both of victory and of profound sadness for him: Alec had never killed a living
thing before. He did not hunt, like most of his friends, and he didn’t believe
in killing anything. Even though he knew the beast would have surely killed
him, it still hurt him to see it die.
    Alec suddenly
felt a searing pain on his leg and he cried out and looked down to see another
Wilvox biting him. He kicked his leg away before the fangs could sink any
deeper and immediately jumped into action. He shoved the dead beast off of him,
and as another Wilvox lunged for him, he scrambled to think. He felt cold steel
pressing into his belly, and he remembered: his dagger. It was small—yet it
might be just enough to do the trick. In a final act of desperation, Alec
grabbed the dagger, stiffened his arm, and held it out in front of him.
    The Wilvox came
down and as it lowered its jaws for Alec, its throat was impaled on the blade.
It let out an awful shriek as Alec held tight and the blade sank all the way
in. Its blood poured all over Alec as it finally went limp, its razor-sharp
fangs just inches from his face, its dead weight atop him.
    Alec lay there,
his heart thumping, unsure if he was alive or dead, covered in blackness from
the beast’s matted fur, which stuck to his face. He felt his leg throbbing
where he had been bit, heard himself breathing, and he realized he was,
somehow, still alive.
    Suddenly a shriek
ripped through the night air, and Alec snapped out of it and remembered: Marco.
    Alec looked over
to find Marco in dire straits: he was wrestling with a Wilvox, rolling in the
snow, it snapping at him as he barely held back its jaws. As the beast snapped
again, Marco’s hands, slick with blood, slipped, and the beast’s fangs came
down and grazed his shoulder.
    Marco cried out
again, and Alec could see there wasn’t much time. The other Wilvox lunged for
Marco, too, who lay there prone, his back exposed, about to be killed.
    Alec burst into
action, not stopping to think twice about risking his life to save his friend.
He ran for Marco with all he had, praying to God he made it before the beast
did, each of them about ten feet away. They leapt into the air at the same
time, the Wilvox to tear Marco apart and Alec to jump in the beast’s way and
take the injury in his stead.
    Alec made it
just in time, and as he did, he suddenly felt the horrific pain of the Wilvox’s
fangs sinking into his arm instead of Marco’s. He had achieved his objective,
had spared Marco from a lethal bite, but he had received a horrific bite in his
stead, the pain intense.
    Alec tumbled
with the beast, throwing it off of him, clutching his arm in pain. He reached
into his belt for his dagger, but he could not find it—and he remembered, too
late, that he had left it lodged in the other beast’s throat.
    Alec lay on his
back, barely holding back the Wilvox, now on all fours on his chest, and he
felt himself losing strength. He was exhausted from the wound, from the
fighting, and he was too weak to fight off this creature, all muscle, and
determined to kill. As it leaned in, ever closer, its saliva dripping onto
Alec’s face, Alec knew he was out of options.
    Alec looked for
help from Marco, but he saw his friend still wrestling with a Wilvox himself,
and losing strength, too. They would both die here, Alec realized, beside each
other in the snow.
    The Wilvox on
top of him arched its back and prepared to sink its fangs into Alec’s chest
with one final strike, which Alec knew he was too weak to resist—when suddenly,
it froze. He was baffled