I don't quite know what pushed me on. Maybe it was the persisting fear of what my mother would do to me, or the shock of the attack. Or maybe it was the thought of the beast coming back to finish the kill. I could almost picture it prowling the overgrowth to my right, silent and waiting. Up until that point, I had never resented someone for leaving their yard so overgrown. But at that moment, I felt it immensely. That thing could be following me, and I would have no idea.

I sucked in a breath. But what troubled me the most was the recollection of what I'd seen. I thought poured over every detail, trying to match any features of that beast to anything I'd seen before. When my analysis kept coming up empty, only one question sat on my mind -- what had attacked me? It had looked so wolf-like, but it had been far too big and bulky be one. Not to mention the uncanny glow of its eyes. I'd never seen an animal's eyes glow so red like that, let alone burn with such ill-intent.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus my jutting vision. Turn back, the rational part of my mind demanded. Turn back, you dumbass. What the hell are you doing still walking to this party?

Even through the haze of my trembling and shaking, I knew my reasoning was correct. A tongue-lashing was one thing. A deadly infection was another matter entirely.

Sweat beaded upon my forehead as I tried to recall my many mundane lessons in biology class, though that proved difficult through the fog of my mind. An infection was bad, yes, but it could be treated with the correct antibiotics -- any infectious disease could. Besides, its teeth hadn't cut deep. So long as I kept my wounds covered, I would be fine.

Assuming that a disease hadn't already made its way into my body.

I shivered at the thought, but still I forged ahead, tuning out the rational voice that screamed lyrics of my stupidity. I was committed now; no turning back. Besides, the ground before me was beginning to rise, and the houses on either side were starting to look neater and tidier than the last. I was entering the hills. I was so close, I couldn't afford to stop now.

My determination made me stupid. Or perhaps it was my pride.

At some point of the walk, I'd shrugged off my jacket and tied it around the wound, hoping that would aid as an extra layer of defence against any potential abrasion. If the canines had indeed not penetrated any further than a couple layers of the skin, then I would need to keep the infection outside. Scraping the wound wouldn't help. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

My stomach churned with every step I took, all my muscles impossibly tense. I periodically glanced behind me to check that the beast wasn't following, and though I spotted no red eyes, my fears persisted nonetheless. The relief that flooded through me at the sight of my destination was impossible to describe -- well, to someone who hadn't been chased down by a wolfish beast, anyway.

There was only one word that could describe the house before me: grand. The white sandstone structure seemed to gleam silver in the moonlight, as though made from moonstone itself. Pristine pillars supported the jutting lip of a second floor balcony, several colours flashing through the large-pane windows overlooking the yard below.

The oak doors were thrown open, revealing an inside that was just as grand as the exterior. I glimpsed people milling about a space at the end of the entry hall, bumping into the golden-wrought tables and silver-framed paintings. Decorative jugs rattled with the beat of the music, a quiet hum to the melody of jeers and whoops.

I hesitated. I was out of place with my tattered hoodie and plain clothes, very different from the fancy evening dresses fluttering inside. Looking at my ripped denim, it occurred to me why I was rarely invited to parties; I never dressed the part. Hell, the only reason I'd been invited to this one was because it was a pre-graduation party. Any other circumstance and I would have certainly been barred from it.

I sucked in a deep breath. I'd literally been bitten by a feral animal to get here. Why the hell was I fretting over my appearance now? The irony in itself enough got me moving.

The golden tables lining the halls hosted various foods and drinks. Garlands hung upon the white-plaster walls, reflecting an array of colours as light flashed around the room. I kept on, stopping only once I came to the edge of the crowd. The room was large, and judging by the crystal chandelier and wall-mounted television, I could only guess this had once been a living room. Any couches and tables had been pushed to the edges, a make-shift dance floor taking their place. People milled about the space, too drunk or too invested in conversation to notice my presence. I supposed it was a blessing.

I let out a long breath and weaved my way around people. To my surprise, the room was quite spacious. A minibar had been erected to the left, where many adolescents were sculling drinks or stumbling like idiots. Lights flashed throughout the smoke hanging in the air, the warbled booms of tunes and voices alike making my head spin. Music blared in my ears, and I could feel an ache forming at my temples. As soon as I discovered the set of glass doors leading to the back garden, I wasted no time and made my way outside.

The outside was much quieter. People talked in hushed tones -- some cuddling on the couches whilst others lingered around in small cliques. The loudest ones were the girls squealing in the pool, which had been lit up like a Christmas tree.

My eyes roved the space. Some people had taken notice of me and glanced my way. A few wrinkled their noses, whilst others didn't pay me a second glance. I didn't care. I just needed to find Alia and let her know I was here.

"Kyra!" came a cheery voice from behind.

I whirled.

I didn't recognise her at first. She looked totally different. Her shoulder-length hair had been plaited around her head, as though she wore a crown. Her face had been done up artfully with makeup, but not the type of makeup that looked layered and cakey. It looked professional, real, as though her cheeks were really as sharp as the contours suggested, as though her skin really was naturally clear. I found my gaze drifting, settling at the floral dress that reached her ankles. That was perhaps the only thing I recognised as 'her'.

Her brown eyes twinkled, noticing my gaze. "What do you think?" she squeaked, smiling down at her dress.

I shook myself from shock, feeling slightly light-headed. "Yeah... yeah! It's lovely, Al." I swallowed, hating the painful pang in my temples. "I've never seen you so done-up before. Did your mom do it?"

Alia shook her head with a giggle. "No, my mother hired a makeup artist. She was fantastic, Kyra! She did such a good job. I mean, just look at me!

I nodded in agreement. I often forgot that Alia's family had the money to spend on commodities like that. She didn't act like a spoilt rich girl, at least not like the others in my grade. Perhaps that was what had drawn me to her in the first place.

Her eyes lit up again, sliding to the punch tables lined up inside. "I heard there's drinks in there. Like... real drinks." She said it with a grin that barely contained her excitement. I returned her smile, and for a moment I forgot about everything that had been tugging at my consciousness. My mother, the bite from the wolf, the punishments of sneaking out. For just a moment, seeing Alia so happy made everything so worth it.

"So," she chirped, swaying her hips. "Are you ready to par-tay?"

I couldn't help the grin. "Of course," I supplied, trying to ignore the growing pressure in my head. I could've sworn my knees were shaking, too, but I put it down to the vibrations of the music. I went to move when a lilting voice stopped me.

"Well, look who made it!"

Shit.