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Torchwood Fic: Hour of the Wolf (5/10)
Title: The Hour of the Wolf (5/10)
Author: Emma
Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Torchwood Three team and their offspring
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?
Spoilers: None. This takes place in my Homecoming AU, four years or so after The Eye of Neith.
Summary: Something is happening in St. Catherine’s Glen, and whatever it is will change the Cooper-Williams family forever…
Part one is here
Part two is here
Part three is here
Part four is here
Pryce pulled aside a corner of the tent flap and peered out. “They left a guard.”
“I wonder if it’s to keep us in or keep the wolf out.” Yan picked up a small rucksack. “You’ve got your knife?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions, junior.”
“All right. You or me?”
“
He walked openly towards the far side of the small grove, making enough noise to attract the attention of the man sitting outside Booth’s tent. He moved fast, trying to act like a guy with a too full bladder, all the time praying to God the monk was buying his act. Pryce could not remember ever been as scared as he was at this point. They were in way over their heads, and all they could do was try to survive until Uncle Jack and the others arrived. He wondered if his mother had felt the same gut-churning mix of terror and adrenaline the first time she faced Torchwood trouble.
He was wound up enough that he didn’t have to fake being startled when a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” He spun around, pushing the monk away angrily. “You want to give me a heart attack?”
“Where are you going?” the man whispered.
“Where do you think?” He pointed at his crotch. “I wasn’t going to take a piss in the middle of camp, was I?”
“All right, all right.” The monk looked around nervously. “Hurry up and lets…”
He went down in a heap at Pryce’s feet as Yan brought down the heavy end of Don’s walking stick on the back of his head. Pryce and Merry dragged him behind some rocks and used his own rope belt to tie his hands and feet.
“Slow them down a little,” Pryce muttered. “Yan, go! I don't think we have much time.”
They moved as fast as they could across the uneven, rocky ground. There was just enough moonlight to let them see most things in silhouette, but not enough to dispel the shadows. They couldn’t afford to come too close to possible hiding places, so they moved out in the open, paralleling the stream, trying to gain as much of a lead as they could before Booth noticed they were gone.
After about an hour, they forded the shallow stream and followed the opposite bank until they reached a narrow track that led up into the hills.
“Torchwood House is about four miles on the other side of that hill. It’s an easy climb, but there’s no cover at all.” Yan closed his eyes briefly, visualizing the map. “Except for a couple of
Halfway up the hill they heard the first sounds of pursuit. A wolf howled once, twice, three times, and then came a shriek and loud growls.
“Move!” Pryce screamed. “Now!”
They pelted up the track, hearing the sounds come closer and closer. Pryce looked over his shoulder. He could see Booth and one of the monks running the opposite bank of the stream. They were followed at a distance by the second monk, who was lurching along, holding his side. Even at a distance Pryce could see the blood staining his robe.
He couldn’t see the wolf, but he could hear the growls coming closer. It wasn’t hunting like a regular wolf. If the Nature Channel was to be believed, wolves hunted silently, stalking their prey. This thing snuffled and growled as it went, as inexpert at hunting as they were at being hunted.
The problem was stamina. Merry was nearing exhaustion and the rest of them were not too far behind. Wolves could run for hours without resting…
He reminded himself this thing was alien. He couldn’t be sure it would have the same physical resources the terran animal would. Still, everything he had read in the Torchwood files about haemovariforms suggested that they were very powerful while in animal form.
The track turned downhill suddenly, and the going became much easier. What they could see of the glen below didn’t seem very different from what they had left behind, except for two large round hills a short distance off to the left.
“The MacLeish
“How do you know?” Don asked.
“Yan has perfect memory,” Merry answered. “If he’s seen it once he remembers it.”
They left the track and made a beeline for the
Pryce saw Don stumble and fall to his knees right before he heard the sound of rocks tumbling down the hill behind them. He grabbed Don by the back of the shirt and hauled him to his feet.
“Move it, Don!”
But Don, half-dazed, had turned around to face the other direction. Even in the weak light Pryce could see the horror in his eyes. His right hand jerked up, pointing at something behind Pryce as a strangled scream forced itself through tightly clamped lips.
Pryce turned. The werewolf stood on a rocky outcrop above them, outlined by the weak moonlight. It was a mockery of a human being and a mockery of a wolf, a two-legged thing covered with matted fur, yellowed fangs distorting its thick-lipped mouth. Long, powerful arms reached down to its knees, clawed hands and feet flexing spasmodically.
“Duw.”
The sight froze him for a moment, then he grabbed Don’s arm and started to run, pulling him along. It felt as if he were trying to tow the hill itself. Don was stiff with terror and he kept stumbling and dragging Pryce down with him.
The wolf’s howl warned the other two of what was happening. Yan and Merry started to turn back, but Pryce screamed at them to keep going.
They had almost reached the
*Uncle Jack!*
Unbelievably, the last thing he heard as he collapsed was an answer.
*Pryce?!*
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*threatens you with busted up water pipes since my plumbing decided to explode and leave me with handy weapons*
More! *begs* Please!
MB
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So does this mean that Pryce is telepathic.
Great update.
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I wonder - is Tardis Ianto amplifying Jack's own abilities? Hmmmmmmm
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Also this "as inexpert at hunting as they were at being hunted" is a beautiful observation on the differences between a hameovariform and a true wolf. You have a lovely eye for such things.
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