What Happens Next - Aurora version

this month's lore post is a glimpse at Rory's POV leading up to a certain recent scene in Chapter 2! warning for blood and violence (approximately the same amount as in the book)

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Cammore, Arizona is a quaint little town. Rory might even call it charming. It’s really too bad she won’t be staying long, but she makes a mental note to pass back through on her way back east, when she isn’t chasing a deadline in need of big-city internet connections.

But that’s not today. Today, she’s just stopping to fill up the tank on her Harley and to find somewhere to grab lunch. If everything goes well, she’ll be back on the road before nightfall and might be able to make it to Flagstaff before she needs to stop and sleep.

She has lunch at a bar that styles itself as an old world pub--English “old world”, not Mexican “old world” like she’d expect this far southwest--and their patty melt is so good that she gets a second one to take with her and have for dinner. She settles the sandwich’s styrofoam box securely in one of the saddlebags on her bike and slips her jacket on even though it’s a little too warm here for the thick leather.

As she takes one last wistful look around the town, she notices a man approaching her at a rapid pace. Even at a distance, she can tell he’s in a panic, fear hunching his shoulders and speeding his steps. Before she’s even thought about it, Rory puts her helmet down and moves toward the man in a nervous half-jog.

“Help…” he rasps as soon as she’s close.

"Hey, easy. What’s wrong?" She puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to steady him and get his attention all at once. The man grabs her too, hands digging into her biceps hard enough to bruise, hard enough that she thinks for a second that he might somehow rip the leather.

This close, it's obvious how sickly the man is. His skin, which looks like it might normally be a warm tawny brown, is ashen and gray, and he's so skeletal she can see the knobs of his spine through his shirt.

"Help… me… please…" he says again.

But Rory doesn't want to help him anymore. Every instinct is screaming at her to leave, to get back to the Harley and leave this town in her taillights.

The man snatches her wrist as she tries to take a step back and looks up suddenly, his eyes locking on Rory’s. It takes her a moment to realize what’s wrong with them.

They’re gold. A bright, lurid yellow that almost glows in the late afternoon light. No, not almost; they're definitely glowing. There's no way that's a trick of the light.

Her heart sinks to her knees as she recognizes those gold eyes. And what they mean.

She's had this dream before. Had it every night for a month now, had almost convinced herself that's all it was--a dream. It doesn't feel quite as unreal when it's staring her in the face.

On reflex, she tries to run, but she knows it won’t make a difference. She knows what happens, has memorized every step and line in her part of the dance.

She barely feels the first bite as the man--the wolf now, she thinks dimly--sinks his fangs into her shoulder. The pain follows a moment later, bright and burning, blinding her for a few seconds.

The next thing she's aware of is the asphalt scraping against her cheek, the wolf's hot breath on her neck and distantly, the sound of approaching footsteps. She tries not to flinch when he lunges at her again.

She knows how this dream ends. She knows what’s coming, knows who’s coming, but not what it means. At least, finally, after a month of dreaming and daydreaming, Rory will finally get to know. She’ll get to see what happens next.

It's the last thought she has before the world goes black.