Free Impact by Rob Boffard Page A

him. He plunges into the trees, almost tripping over a rock, and has to put his hand against one of the tree trunks to stop himself from falling. The bark is damp and frigid against his skin, speckled with frost.
    â€œWait!” Clay screams the word, stumbling after them. Prakesh can feel a panic of his own rising, as if the presence of the others was the only thing keeping it down. He is colder than he has ever been in his life, and every breath feels like it has to physically claw its way out of his lungs. The wind has increased now, strong enough that he has to lean into it. He can hear the trees beginning to bend, the old wood creaking.

17
Riley
    I stay as still as I can.
    The animal lets go of Syria, its growl extending and twisting into a snarl. There’s a gap in the clouds, enough to let in a little light from a hidden moon. I can’t stop looking at the creature’s mouth. Its teeth are a dull white, and saliva drips from its bottom lip.
    A small part of my mind, walled off from the terror coursing through me, is fascinated. Outside of those in pictures, this is the first animal I’ve ever seen.
    As my eyes adjust further, I pick out more details. Its two ears lie flat against its head, and its eyes have a lethal, primal shine. It’s low to the ground, waist height, no more, with spiky, ragged hair–or is it fur?
    The growl comes again, and that’s when the fascinated part of me disappears. It might be the first animal I’ve ever seen, but it definitely isn’t friendly.
    Very, very slowly, I get to my feet. The beast takes a quick breath, interrupting the growl, but then it comes back at an even higher pitch. A tongue darts out from between the teeth, liquid and agile.
    Terror has a way of sharpening my senses. How many times have I felt it on Outer Earth, and how many times has it made me a better tracer? It works now, because that’s when I see the other two.
    One of them is on the edge of the depression, almost invisible in the darkness. It’s standing stock still, its head tilted to one side. The third is on my right: smaller, its fur darker than the others, opening and closing its mouth.
    I raise my hands. The white vapour of my breath is coming in quick, trembling bursts. I’m speaking quietly, nonsense words, trying to keep the fear out of my voice.
    I take a single step back, and that’s when the first animal attacks.
    It’s shockingly fast. One moment it’s motionless, and the next it’s crossed the space between us and buried its teeth in my leg.
    There’s a frozen moment where I feel its teeth crushing through the leaves in my pants. Then they pierce my skin.
    I lash out with my other foot. I’m already falling backwards, my arms whirling, but my shoe takes the animal in the head. It squeals–an oddly human sound–and lets go of my leg, its head twisted sideways.
    Wolf.
    The memory comes from nowhere. I was once ambushed by the Lieren, an Outer Earth gang intent on jacking my cargo. One of them had a tattoo on its neck. A red wolf.
    I scramble to my feet. I don’t know how fast a wolf can run, but right now speed is the only weapon I have. Ice crunches under my feet as I scramble into a sprint, hyperventilating, pumping my arms.
    Behind me, the wolves give chase, their barks echoing across the plateau.
    There might be a little moonlight, but it’s like running through a black hole. Picking out details on the ground is impossible. I barely make it twenty yards before the wolves are on top of me.
    And I’m not even close to fast enough. The wolves’ speed is unbelievable. One of them lands on my back: a huge, hot, horrible weight knocking me to the ground. I feel its breath, burning against my skin. I twist and roll, shaking it off before it can get its teeth into me.
    I spring onto my feet, legs apart, in a fighting stance. I’m surrounded–the three wolves have me in a loose circle, with a boulder at my