Artemis’ POV
A wolf jumps on me and knocks me to the ground. I am determined not to kill if I don't have to, but some of them leave me no choice. This creature is at least three times as big as I am, and its paw digs into my chest, cutting off my breath.
The wolf raises its head, ready to take a bite out of my neck, but I let a current of fear flow toward it that is so atrocious that it recoils in an instant with a pitiful screech in its mouth.
Then I rush at him and without thinking, I plunge a dagger into his side, dodge the defensive attack, climb on his back, and slice his neck with the other knife.
I have never liked killing, and even more so now, when it feels so different, but the enemy has not come to play. In just a few minutes, they have shown that they have a clear intention to finish us off.
I notice that Beck's pack is taking care of neutralizing the enemy, either by incapacitating them or by ending their lives if there is no other choice.
