Free Mundahlia (The Mundahlian Era, #1) by RJ Gonzales Page A

devilish grin that protruded rows of glossy, razor-sharp teeth. Oh shit! I thought. This is how you repay me Zunco?! By sending a fucking wolf to kill me?! Game over. I could feel my heart pounding in both my throat and ears as the rush of panic overtook me.
    The wolf backed a few steps away—still keeping its eyes and teeth on me as I got to my feet slowly. Trying as much as I possibly could to not make a sudden movement that would entice it to attack. It shifted low into a hunch—a single trail of its dark brown fur stood—erected like a razorback, going down its lengthy spine that lead to its bushy tail. It was ready to attack. “Nice wolf,” I said slowly. “I’m not going to hurt you. So, please, please don’t hurt me .”
    We circled each other as though we were in a daring game of musical chairs. Only there was no chairs—just dirt and trees. And there was no music cue—only me and a wolf—each unaware of the other’s intent. I dared myself to take a quick glance at my cabin—nothing but a small brown dot in the distance. Should I make a run for it? I asked myself. The wolf hunched deeper and let out another menacing growl that made my heart skip a beat.
    Yes! Go, go, go! I burst into a run for the cabin, leaving the bucket with the supplies behind. I ran as fast as I could. My legs—shaking with each forceful stomp after the other. I felt a knot forming in the back of my calf ready to contract at the slightest clench. Not now! Please don’t cramp on me now! I threw my head around my shoulder and snuck a glance. The wolf was far behind, smelling the headstone then peering over to me as I made my way through the edge of the forest. “ Good!” I sighed with relief. It wasn’t following me.
    Bam! I shut the backdoor, locking both locks, and ran down the narrow corridor to my room. “I knew it!” I said aloud as I jumped onto the bed to fetch my charging phone. I was just about to dial George’s cell and tell him of my encounter when a thought lingered its way into my mind. Why didn’t the wolf follow me?”
     
    Later that night, I ate in silence at the table—which shocked both Celeste and George. Especially since I was usually the talkative one at dinner. George gave my cousin a look that said, ‘ she-sure-must-be-traumatized-by-what-she-saw-us-doing-earlier .’ All she did was shrug and wipe her mouth with a napkin.
    “So what did you do all day?” Celeste asked, poking her fork through a piece of lettuce in her Caesar salad.
    I wanted to tell them of the incident earlier, but I knew that it would sound farfetched to them. Not only had George proved to me that there were no wolves—but why did I feel compelled to fix up the headstone? And I knew if Celeste had heard that I had spent my afternoon fixing up a headstone and nearly getting killed by a vicious wolf, she would more than likely send me back home—or an insane asylum. On top of that, she didn’t need any added stress. I didn’t want her to go into stress-induced labor on my account.
    “Somethin’ wrong?” George asked, taking a spatula to go back for seconds in the tray directly under the hanging fixture that emitted a yellowish-orange light against the already golden walls.
    I must of seemed a bit off.
    “No. I’m just tired, I guess.” I twirled a fork around the remains of my lasagna. “I got a job, though,” I changed the subject.
    “Really? That’s great. Where?”
    “At Chansile Café. Sarah’s parents own it and they needed a waitress, so-.”
    “Oh, Sarah’s the girl you were talking about earlier, right?” Celeste covered her mouth as she talked while she chewed. “When do you start?”
    “Tomorrow. She’s going to pick me up in the morning.”
    “By any chance, is this Sarah the waitress girl that served us last weekend?” George asked.
    I laughed, “Yeah, that’s her. We have English together.”
    “Who is your English teacher, by the way?” Celeste interjected, putting her glass of water down