The wind howled through the trees of the White Wilds, a biting chorus that steadied Areius's nerves.
The sound of snow crunching beneath his boots as he led the hunting party forward, brought him clam.
His breath curling in the frigid air like smoke from a dying fire. Behind him, the other Krags moved with practiced stealth, all but one.
Talon.
The younger warrior lingered a step too close, his presence a thorn in Areius's side. He didn't need to glance back to feel the weight of Talon's gaze, sharp as a blade testing its edge against his spine.
It was the look of a man measuring the distance between ambition and bloodshed.He wants my place. It won't be shocking for a challenge to come, if not today, then soon.
But a war chief did not cull rivals out of fear. He tempered them in the fires of the White wild. Let the fire reveal what lay beneath be it steel or slag.
Areius halted at the edge of a frozen thicket. His voice carried just enough to reach the others without echoing.
"The forest is hungry."
The Krags stilled. Even the wind seemed to listen.
"We hunt the stripped stag. Its meat will feed the clan, its hide will honor the ancestors." A worthy task, one that would force Talon to prove his mettle or expose his frailty.
Talon's lips twitched, a flicker of defiance. "And if the stag's smarter than your hunters?"
Areius turned slowly, the snow beneath his boots crushing like a warning. His eyes meeting the younger Krag's gaze. The others stilled, tension thickening the air until even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Snowflakes dusted Talon's shoulders like a mantle, as though the Wilds themselves sought to crown him. A bold thought, one Areius crushed with a smirk.
"Then we hunt whatever the forest offers." His hand drifted to the hilt of his blade.
"Beasts... or fools."
A beat of silence. Talon's jaw tightened, but he dipped his head in submission...at least for now.
Satisfied, Areius turned back to the trees. The hunt was on. And so was the game between them.
---
The deeper they trekked into the Wilds, the heavier the silence grew. Areius's boots punched through the snow's brittle crust with each step, but strangely his mind circled back to the ratling in their camp.
Those eyes...too clever, too calculating for something like a Ratling. It was almost Like a .... human, and Vagra's interest in the creature gnawed at him. What does she want with it? He had never seen her interested in much, now all of a sudden she claims it.
Behind him, two hunters muttered, their voices low but carrying.
"He won't last a day," one said.
"Vagra's got him now," the other replied with a dark chuckle. "You know how her kind plays with prey. Doubt there'll be enough left to bury."
Areius's lip curled, exposing the full length of his tusks, and a warning growl rumbled in his throat. The chatter died instantly.
He exhaled sharply, forcing his focus ahead. Yet the ratling's face lingered, that unbroken gaze, even in bondage. There was something there. Something… interesting.
I'll see what Vagra makes of him, he thought, pushing deeper into the forest. Either way, the creature's fate was no longer his burden.
-------
The trees thickened as they pressed deeper into the forest, their branches clawing at the sky. The snow here seemed to sparkle, a pristine shroud over the land, until now.
Areius crouched, his fingers brushing the faint indentation in the powder. A hoofprint, fresh. The stag had passed this way recently. Its trail was a whisper of the wilds, but Areius and all hunters worth their name had spent a lifetime learning the language of the Wilds.
He raised a fist, and the hunting party froze.
The forest became a tableau of held breath and poised steel. Only Talon shifted, his boot grinding against the ice. Impatient and reckless, the boy had a wolf's hunger but none of its patience.
Areius shot him a glare that could flay skin, then turned back to the trail.
The wind had died.
Silence smothered the woods. Thick suffocating silence the kind that pressed against a man's eardrums until his own heartbeat roared like a drum. The trees stood skeletal, their branches clawing at a sky bleached pale with cold. Even the ravens had gone quiet.
Then....a snap.
Something moved ahead. A flicker of shadow between the trees, too large for a hare, too fluid for a bear. The stag. Its antlers cut the air like a crown of bone, its coat the same ghost-white as the snow. A king of this frozen waste. And it knew they were there.
A phantom stag, not what they came for but it would do nicely.
Areius unslung his spear in one fluid motion, the leather strap whispering against his skin. He flicked two fingers which was a sign to fan out and flank it and the Krags dissolved into the forest, silent as smoke. All but Talon.
Testing me again.
Areius bared his teeth and jerked his chin toward the eastern thicket where the undergrowth grew dense as a wall. "Go."
For a heartbeat, Talon stood poised on the edge of defiance. Then, with a glance that promised later reckoning, he vanished into the trees.
The chase began.
The stag wove through the pines like a needle through thread, its hooves barely skimming the earth. Areius tracked it by the shudder of branches, the fleeting flash of its tail, white on white, a phantom slipping through the world. His breath burned in his throat, his muscles coiled.
This was the heart of the hunt. The moment before the kill, when the world narrowed to predator and prey, to blood and breath and the raw, animal truth of survival. When even time seemed to pause, waiting for the strike.
And Areius?
He lived for it.
"AHHHHH"
Talon's voice.
The stag bolted, a streak of white vanishing into the trees. Areius cursed, surging forward, but the beast was already gone, swallowed by the forest. He spun, fury hot in his throat, ready to throttle the fool....
When a second cry ripped through the forest.
This one was raw. Guttural , the sound of a man who'd just learned what his own bones looked like.
The Krags moved as one, crashing through the underbrush. Areius reached the clearing first and froze.
Talon knelt in the snow, clutching his left arm. Or what was left of it. Blood pulsed between his fingers in thick, rhythmic spurts, painting the ground in lurid crimson. His face was corpse-pale, lips peeled back in a silent scream.
And standing over him, muzzle dripping...
...was a wolf.
No.
Not a wolf.
The creature's ribs jutted against its patchy pelt. Its muzzle dripped red, strings of saliva swinging from yellowed fangs. Its muzzle peeled back, revealing more of its fangs, that was longer than a man's Palm. But worst were its eyes...burning with a feral, calculating hunger . All too sharp and too knowing.
The Elders had whispered of such beasts around dying campfires. The White Wilds' hunger given flesh. A thing that shouldn't exist.
A mutant.
The beast's head snapped up, Its gaze locked onto Areius.
For a heartbeat, the world held still..
Then it charged.
---
The beast moved like a white blur of matted fur and snapping jaws, closing the distance between them in three terrifying stride.
Areius planted his feet and rammed his spear haft into its mouth just as fangs snapped shut. The impact went through his arms. Hot drool splattered his face, reeking of rotting meat. The force drove him backward, boots skidding through bloodied snow.
To his left, one of the younger Krags, Vorsk barely sixteen winters old, loosed his spear. It struck the wolf's shoulder with a wet thunk.
The beast didn't even flinch.
Its yellow eyes flicked toward the boy, and Areius saw death in that glance.
"Scatter!" he roared.
The hunting party broke apart, but Talon still knelt in the snow, gripping his mangled arm. The wolf's bite had torn through muscle, leaving puncture wounds that welled crimson. His green face was corpse-pale, breath ragged, but his free hand clutched his spear
Fool. Still trying to prove himself.
The wolf lunged again, this time at Vorsk, who stumbled back, his blade still sheathed.
Areius didn't think.
He wrenched his spear free and drove it into the beast's flank.
A mistake.
The wolf whirled, its claws raking across Areius's chest. Pain seared through him, but worse was the unnatural strength behind the blow. No direwolf could strike like that. His skin split open, and warmth spilled down his ribs.
The beast twisted with grotesque speed, claws slashing toward his face. He barely jerked back in time, but he felt the whoosh of air as claws parted the space where his eyes had been. It landed with a snarl, already coiling to spring...
But Talon was moving.
His spear flashed, stabbing for its ribs.
The wolf bent like smoke mid-air, evading the thrust. A paw hammered Talon's chest, hurling him into snow.
The other Krags fired arrows. One grazed the wolf's shoulder.
Vorsk charged, knife raised, but the beast caught his wrist in its jaws.
CRACK!
Vorsk screamed, but it was cut short as the wolf shook him like a ragdoll, sending him flying into a tree.
Areius didn't wait. He charged forward, then drove his spear straight for the wolf's eye. The beast dodged, but not fast enough, the point scored a deep gash across its muzzle.
Black blood sprayed, sizzling where it hit the snow.
Enraged, the wolf lunged. Areius barely got his spear up in time, the shaft cracking between its jaws. He kneed it in the throat, to no effect. Claws tore at his legs, shredding leather and flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain and shoved, using the broken spear to force the beast back.
Talon was up again, breathing hard but moving fast. He snatched Vorsk's blade and swung it one-handed at the wolf's spine. The blade bit deep, but the wolf rounded on him with a snap of its jaws that would have taken his hand off if he hadn't let go of the blade.
The embedded blade slowed it and Areius seized his chance.
He abandoned his shattered spear and drew his curved blade from his belt. When the wolf turned toward Talon again, Areius leaped onto its back, locking his legs around its ribs. The beast bucked violently, but he held on, driving it's blade into its neck once, twice
The wolf howled and rolled, crushing Areius beneath it. His Ribs cracked and white pain flashed behind his eyes. The blade slipped from his grip.
The Krag hunters didn't waste this opportunity they charged. with their spear, having abounded their bow, they stabbed the beast sides. It managed to struggled away, allowing Areius to get free and charge at the mutant again this time, grabbing his blade to slash at the eyes of the wolf. The mutant injured, was still able to step back in time.
One of the Krags, Ova charged with his spear behind the wolf, his spear seeking tendons. The wolf kicked out like a stag, its hind claws scoring deep grooves across Ova's thigh. The warrior went down hard, but as he fell, he threw his spear..
only for Talon to snatch it mid- air and plunge it into the wolf's side of its rib, it howled in pain The beast rammed its shoulder into the boy's chest. Talon flew backward, skidding through the snow until a tree trunk stopped him with a sickening thud.
Areius saw red.
He drove his blade at the wolf's throat. The beast jerked its head aside, but not fast enough, the blade grazed its throat, shearing off a chunk of it's flesh. The beast gazed at Areius with hate and opened its mouth.
A frosty force gathered within, swirling like a storm.
But before it could do anything, it staggered....then collapsed. Its massive body, battered and bleeding, finally fell still.
Silence.
Then..a wet cough from Vorsk. A groan from Talon. Areius spat blood and hauled himself upright, every breath stabbing his ribs.
The mutant lay dead.
The forest seemed to exhale.
The wind returned in a slow, shuddering breath, rustling the pine needles like a chorus of hushed voices. The scent of iron and wet fur clung thick to the air, mingling with the sent of tree water. Around them, the trees stood silent sentinels, their shadows stretching long and jagged across the bloodstained snow.
The other Krags crept forward, weapons still raised, their hands slick with sweat. No one spoke. The only sound was the crunch of snow under cautious boots and the labored rasp of Talon's breathing. Their eyes never left the beast's massive form, waiting, expecting those eyes to snap open, for its ruined chest to heave one last defiant snarl.
Talon slumped back into the snow, his body a map of pain. Every gasp tore through him, his breath fogging the air in ragged, uneven bursts. His fingers twitched, whether from the cold or the fading adrenaline, Arieus couldn't tell. When their gaze met there was no fire left in it. No challenge. Just exhaustion so deep it felt like drowning.
And something else.
A flicker. A tilt of his eyes barely there. Respect? Or the grim acknowledgment of a debt that would have to be repaid?
Areius wiped his blade clean on the wolf's pelt in a slow, deliberate motion The steel came away claened, the last of the beast's life smeared across its fur.
"Bind his wounds." A nod at Talon. "We leave."
The hunt was over.
Yet as they dragged the carcass behind them, its massive limbs carving deep, furrows in the snow. The wolf's head lolled, tongue lolling between dagger-length fangs, its remaining eye milky and staring as if accusing him.
Areius's jaw tightened
He couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't an accident caused by a lack of grace by the gods.
No,the beast had died too easily, and it was already malnourished and weak. But that raised another question, What could reduce a mutant to such a state?
"Seems like he was right," Areius muttered, then grinned savagely. "It means I must prepare as planned."