CHAPTER 31: CHAPTER 31 - THE WOLF’S TRAIL

The forest grew darker the deeper she pressed into it. The trunks stretched tall, closing in like pillars, the canopy weaving thick enough to form a ceiling above.

It was getting harder to see because of the limited light, but she could still see the wolf tracks; they led further in.

They cut straight through the underbrush, pawprints pressed deep into damp earth. The claws dug grooves where weight and speed drove them forward, fresh enough that the edges still crumbled when she brushed them with her finger.

[Analysis: Two sets. Juveniles. Estimated weight—120 kilograms each. Direction: northeast. Timeframe: within the last hour.]

"Two..."

She whispered under her breath, her hand tightening on the shaft of her spear. A single wolf would’ve been dangerous enough to deal with for a warrior apprentice. Two was something else.

Her first instinct was to turn back—bring her kills, keep her points, play it safe. That would’ve been the smart decision.

But safety didn’t make strength. In the words of her father, "Words aren’t proof."

No. If she couldn’t even stand against wolves, what right did she have to dream of surpassing anyone?

While two direwolves would be the death of an apprentice, that was only true for fully grown ones. As the AI had said, and previously mentioned by the Earl, the ones released in the forest were all young.

It may be a struggle, she may suffer, but it was within her capabilities to deal with them.

She quickened her pace but avoided making any sound. Every step she took was careful not to snap any branches, and she evenly distributed her weight to optimize movement. It was all part of her training, all things she had learned previously, and improved upon with the AI. The wolves had hearing sharper than the deer—sharper than anything she’d faced so far.

A stench reached her first.

Iron. No, not iron—meat. Blood.

Morena crouched low, sliding behind a thicket. The clearing ahead was littered with the remnants of a deer carcass. Stripped ribs jutted like pale fenceposts, the flesh torn ragged, the ground soaked with fresh gore.

Not long dead.

She scanned the shadows, her senses sharpening.

[Heat signatures detected. Two. One moving. One stationary.]

Two, as expected.

Her heart thudded once, hard, but she forced it steady.

The bushes rustled, and there it was. The first wolf padded into view, its fur dark gray streaked with white along the chest, shoulders broad for something still considered juvenile.

It was larger than any normal dog she had seen. If this were young, she didn’t want to see what an adult looked like. Its eyes glowed faintly gold in the shadows, a hint of clear intelligence sparking within.

It sniffed the air, ears pricking.

The second burst out before she could fully ready herself.

Her spear snapped up just in time as the first lunged, jaws flashing like knives. The impact rattled her arms, teeth clashing against wood as it snarled. She shoved with all her strength, forcing it back a step—just in time for the second to lunge low at her side.

She twisted, leather scraping as claws raked across her arm. The armor caught most of it, but the sting cut sharply beneath.

She leapt back, spear sweeping in a low arc, keeping both in her vision.

They stopped for a second as they observed her. Tall, their fur was covered in stains of red, and their mouths curled into a growl.

[Warning: Engagement odds unfavorable. Retreat recommended.]

"Doesn’t look like they’ll give me the chance."

Her voice came out tight, but steady.

The first lunged again. This time, she was prepared; she braced and thrust, the spear point glancing off its shoulder. The fur was thick, protecting it from the blade’s end, leaving only a scratch behind. The beast howled and snapped again, forcing her to retreat another step.

The second circled, its growl rumbling low, waiting for an opening.

She couldn’t give them one.

She inhaled sharply, pressing the letters within her chest into focus, gathering the elemental energy, flowing to her arms. Her next thrust cracked like thunder, slamming the butt of the spear into the ground as she drove the head straight into the lunging wolf’s throat.

It moved at the last second, but it was too late for it to fully avoid the attack, and blood sprayed. The beast yelped, legs scrabbling, before wrenching free, staggering back with crimson staining its chest.

The second came immediately, trying to capitalize. It darted in, with low, tusk-like teeth flashing. Morena spun the spear sideways, blocking the snap, and slammed her boot into its mouth. Bone crunched, the wolf yelping as it skidded back, but the teeth had pierced through her boot.

The first had already moved to attack again—she barely saw it before it was on her.

The impact threw her off balance, her back slammed against a tree trunk hard enough to jar her teeth. Its jaws snapped inches from her throat, breath hot, stinking of blood and rot.

Her spear was pinned awkwardly, useless in the tight press.

Her dagger.

She twisted, fumbling at her belt. The wolf snapped, teeth grazing her shoulder, the pain jolting through her body, but her hand closed around the hilt.

With a roar, she drove the dagger up beneath its jaw.

Hot blood sprayed across her face. The wolf shrieked, thrashing violently, then collapsed limp against her before rolling off to the dirt.

She scrambled upright, chest heaving, only to find the other one looking at her from a distance. It was much more alert now, wary. Before, they hadn’t given her any chance to react, but it had lost its companion, and it felt fear.

It shook its head, blood dripping from its nose where she had kicked it.

Her grip tightened on the dagger with one hand, spear with the other.

"Come, then."

It circled, low, growling deep. It was hesitant to attack alone, but it also didn’t want to flee; just like her, it had something to prove now. She mirrored, footwork sharp, eyes locked.

Then it lunged.

Morena braced. This time she didn’t try to block—it was too strong and her shoulder was injured. She stepped aside, sweeping the spear upward across its chest as it flew past. The blade ripped deep, tearing muscle, spinning it mid-leap.

It crashed to the ground, wheeling around, only to meet the point of her spear again. She thrust hard, once, twice, again, and again, she lost herself in stabbing, until its snarls turned to gurgles, until it went still.

Then there was silence. Not even the forest seemed to make a sound as she stopped.

Her chest heaved, blood dripping down her temple, her arm burning from the bite, but she was still standing.

Two direwolves. Alone.

[Injuries: Moderate. Energy stability—43%. Efficiency dropped after four minutes. Recommendation: further refinement of breathing during prolonged combat.]

Morena sank to one knee, dagger still in hand. She barely had the energy left in her to focus on what the AI was saying, but she glanced it over regardless.

She took a moment to calm herself, ripping a piece of her clothing off to bandage her shoulder wound and prevent it from bleeding; later, she would get it properly treated to avoid an infection.

It may leave a scar, but it was one worth having.

Slowly, she rose, carving fangs and pelts from the corpses, blood slicking her hands, her movements steady.

She had done something many would struggle with, done something that very few could accomplish alone, and with these two corpses, she should have cemented her position in the top 5 at least.

When she finally shouldered her spear again, she glanced back at the clearing—carcass, blood, and the wolves lying broken.

As she was preparing to move again, a horn sounded—long, sharp, echoing through the trees.

It was not the horn to symbolize the end of the hunt; it was something else.

A call for help.

Morena’s grip tightened on the spear. She turned, eyes narrowing toward the sound.

"AI. Mark direction."

[Direction logged. Distance estimated: 1.4 kilometers.]

She started running.