Kleo tightened the straps of her pack, her movements deliberate and precise. Determination was written in every line of her face. Jack watched from the corner of his eye, absently running his thumb along the edge of the dagger the chieftain had given him.


    The Woogs had been aware of the wolf and its pack for years—they were a familiar sight in the southern woods. The wolves were a potential menace but rarely disturbed the village. An uneasy truce existed between them, maintained through distance and respect.


    But now, something had changed. A malevolence had grown in the southern woods, a palpable force that seeped into the air, reaching even the edges of the village. The pack had not been seen for some time. The great wolf hunted alone, its behavior erratic, its instincts corrupted into something far more sinister.


    Rumors swirled about the source of the evil emanating from an abandoned fortress deep within the forest. Once a military post and later a waypoint for merchants and adventurers, it now seemed to harbor something dark that poisoned the land around it. Ever practical, the Woogs had stopped venturing near, leaving the mysteries of the South to fester in shadow.


    Kleo couldn’t leave it alone. The presence needed to be confronted and the truth uncovered. Jack respected her resolve, but it didn’t make him less uneasy.


    “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice reluctant.


    “I have to be,” Kleo replied, glancing at him. “Something is wrong out there, Jack. I can feel it. It could grow worse if we don’t act—it might reach the village.”


    “My only reservation is that you banned me from using magic,” Jack countered, his tone teasing but laced with sincerity.


    Kleo’s expression hardened. “You know why. We don’t understand your magic yet. It’s unpredictable, and we can’t afford unpredictable right now. I need you to trust me on this.”


    “I do,” Jack said earnestly. “I just wish I trusted myself.”


    The chieftain had joined them earlier that morning, insisting on inspecting their preparations. When he’d seen Jack’s so-called weapon—a rusty old knife that looked better suited for chopping onions than warding off wolves—he’d given a disapproving grunt and disappeared, returning minutes later with a sword.


    “This blade,” the chieftain had declared, holding the blade aloft, “will serve you better than that sorry excuse for a knife.”


    Jack had hesitated, his hand lingering over the hilt. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take something important to you.”


    The chieftain waved him off. “It’s no heirloom. It’s a tool. Tools are meant to be used. And if you face the wolf, you’ll need it. That blade will bite deep. That rusty toy of yours won''t even scratch it.”


    Jack accepted the gift, marveling at its balance and craftsmanship. For the chieftain, the sword might have been a fearsome weapon. For Jack’s larger frame, it felt more like an oversized dagger—but one with a wickedly sharp edge and a reassuring heft.


    <hr>


    The early morning was cool and dewy as Chester and Willard led them to the edge of the village. Across the grassy field, the trees of the southern woods loomed dark and foreboding like a barrier between worlds, shadow hiding whatever lay within. The air felt heavy, as if the forest exhaled its dread into the open.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Chester gestured to the far treeline.


    “Head straight across and into the woods. The old fortress is along the eastern edge, about fifteen kilometers south. You''ve gone too far if you reach the bend in the river. Double back from there—no more than two kilometers.”


    Kleo adjusted her gear, her movements brisk. “Got it.”


    “We’ll wait here for your return,” Chester said, stamping his spear.


    Jack took a deep breath and turned to Kleo. “Ready?”


    Kleo nodded, her gaze steady. “Yep.”


    Stepping into the field, the rising sun cast long shadows across the grass. The forest loomed ahead, dark and silent, and Jack hoped they were prepared for whatever awaited within.


    <hr>


    Their first glimpse of the wolf came mid-morning.


    They had been walking steadily, limiting their conversations to hushed whispers. Jack watched the west, his eyes darting back and forth, while Kleo scanned south and east with sharp precision. The weight of the forest pressed in around them, amplifying every creaking branch and the constant rustle of leaves.


    They descended a shallow incline when Kleo stopped, holding up a hand.


    Her voice was low but firm. “Eleven o’clock. Top of the ridge.”


    The wolf sat along the crest of a ridge about twenty meters ahead. Its massive form silhouetted against the gray-blue sky.


    Jack’s throat went dry, and he swallowed hard.


    In daylight, the beast''s full scale was terrifying. Jack felt an icy chill crawl up his spine, its vibrant purple eyes piercing through him.


    The wolf rose, its massive form uncoiling to full height. With a sinking feeling, Jack realized its head would easily reach his chest. Kleo and the wolf would almost stand eye-to-eye.


    Then it snarled, the guttural sound shaking the air around them. Whipping its head from side to side, it flung thick strands of saliva that scattered on the rocks. Jack froze, fear rooting him in place, his heart hammering in his chest.


    Kleo’s hand touched his, pulling him back to reality. “We’re moving,” she whispered. “To the right. Up that side of the ridge. We’ll close the distance.”


    Jack gave a jerky nod. “Okay. I’m right behind you.”


    Kleo studied him, her eyes narrowing as if searching for sarcasm, but Jack’s face was earnest, if pale.


    “What?” he asked, confused by her scrutiny.


    She shook her head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”


    She stepped forward, deliberate and steady. Watching them, the wolf’s ears twitched, and then, without a sound, it turned and vanished over the ridge. Kleo cursed under her breath. “Same plan,” she said. “Stay sharp. It’s testing us.”


    They climbed the ridge, eyes scanning every shadow and hollow. When they reached the crest, the wolf was gone. Faint indentations marked the spot where it had lain. There was no sign of its direction; the dense forest obscured whatever path it had taken.


    Kleo sighed, brushing her hair back from her face. “We keep heading south, but slow and careful. It knows we’re here and waiting for the right moment. Stay alert.”


    Jack nodded, scanning the trees with apprehension. His stomach growled, cutting through the tense quiet. With a sheepish glance at Kleo, he reached into a pouch and pulled out a handful of Woog dumplings. Stuffing all four into his mouth, he chewed vigorously.


    Kleo turned, her expression incredulous. “Four? At once?”


    Jack shrugged, trying to swallow before answering. “Unlike Woogs,” he said around a mouthful of food, “I’ve got a big mouth.”


    Kleo arched a brow, a mischievous smile creeping across her face. “Isn’t that the truth?”


    Jack’s chewing slowed, his expression flat. “Really?”


    She laughed, the light and infectious sound cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “What?” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “You walked right into that one. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t take a swing at my husband when he presents an easy target?”


    “A good one?” Jack said, forcing down the last bite.


    Kleo feigned a wounded look, clasping her chest dramatically. “And here I was, thinking I married a man who could take a joke.”


    Jack shook his head, smiling despite himself. The brief levity settled into a renewed focus as the forest loomed ever darker around them.


    Together, they resumed their pursuit of the wolf.