The Teenager And The Spirit

The teenager ran through the alley, their panting making as much noise as their footsteps that echoed through the night. Behind them, they heard the sound of more folks, angry shouts, still closing in on them. They dove around a corner, hoping for a place to hide, only to be met with a dead end. Normally they could have tried to climb a fence, but not tonight, not exhausted as they were.
With the footsteps just around the corner, all they could do was back against the wall, staying quiet in the hopes the pursuers would run past. No such luck. "Ah, there you are, ya freak. What, no mumbling now? How about you just give up and get over here. Who knows, maybe we won't punish you too much."
The teen looked at the clubs in their hands, wielded with clear intent. Yet the teen was already too exhausted, any attempt at magic would likely cause them to fall unconscious, be at their mercy. There was only one option left. As the pursuers approached, foul grins on their faces, the teen called upon something far bigger than they had ever tried before.
And it called back. A mixture of rage, spite, cruelty, so many emotions. And an undertone of pity.
"So quiet, so quiet, is th- what the hell!" The teen suddenly coughed up blood, yet even before it hit the ground, it boiled away as fire materialized in front. The night turned to day, as a firey wolf came into being, as tall as a troll and longer than a car. Flames dripped off its snarling teeth, leaving scorch marks on the concrete. The heat radiated off it and blackened the nearby walls.
As the teen wiped away the blood from their mouth, they looked at their pursuers, eyes filled with murderous rage as they gave the one order they had managed to obtain. "Kill them all."