I roamed in the snowy woods of Boreas in my bright red cloak.
Leaping from branch to branch, I scouted the once-territory of our dear Highness. Boreas was bland unlike before. These parts of the woods, though however cold it may seem— bore beautiful flowers closest to the sun. The leaves donned prismatic colors one could never imagine.
When I used to live here, I would even sell Boreal Stones because they fetched a high price in the market as they were often mistaken as gemstones for their bright colors.
But all those vibrancy— not an ounce of it was left in these parts. One could only imagine the horrors it went through when these summery woods were plagued by the Lycan King's minions.
He himself- the one they call the King of Wolves, infested these woods and brought with him the storm and rain. And before I could blink my eye, Boreas became filled with ice and gloom.
How many years has it been since I have laid my eyes upon this mountain?
15 years?
The forest lay in a spectral hush, as if nature itself held its breath. Boreal trees stood sentinel, their branches cloaked in an ethereal silence. My gaze canvassed the surroundings, desperate for a sign of life amid the snow-laden path, haunted by the fear that my footprints might betray my presence.
The Alps loomed ahead, their majestic peaks reaching towards the heavens. A foreboding home to the infamous Weres, vile beings who had razed villages on the outskirts of these woods. I rubbed my gloves, a gift from a benevolent old lady from the inn. She had bestowed upon me these gloves after I plucked a stem of her poisonous Wolfsbane—a flower of unique beauty, its indigo to sky-blue hues resembling crystalline gems.
She cautioned me to keep it close, tucked away in my pockets, to mask my scent from the dreaded Weres. The plant, crushed and concealed, released its aroma like a silent guardian against the beasts with senses far surpassing my own.
I looked above me, staring at the Alps.
"That is the place His Highness told me... that is where Moonfyre lives."
If I remember correctly, His Highness told me to scout the area and eliminate any Were I could find. It's quite odd, however...
for some reason, I cannot find a single Were.
Not even their scents lingered in the path... and there was no sign of bloodshed.
My brows furrowed at the absurdity of the situation. The towns and villages I have passed by were empty. I assumed its inhabitants are either dead and consumed; or if they were lucky- had fled to the gate before the Weres could outrun them.
However this place...
I had surmised that deeper into the woods, I'd see signs of activity. Trails of blood, fur, bones, or flesh- none of it was visible.
"What is going on?" I was desperate. It felt like I was lost.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a chunk of cloth hung by a branch. I immediately leaped down from the tree and inspected it.
"Human clothes..."
I was ecstatic to find something, finally. However, my moment of happiness was immediately taken when I caught shadows moving from my peripheral eye.
It was that moment that I knew I had messed up.
Rustling from the thickets disrupted the eerie tranquility, and my senses heightened. I swiftly concealed myself behind tree trunks, but a misstep sent me sprawling into the snow. Pain resonated through my body as my head collided with an unforgiving rock, blood staining the pristine snow beneath.
I cursed under my breath. "Shit..."
As I struggled to rise, I was met with a grisly sight—hulking, hairy beasts closing in, fangs bared. There were five or six of them. They were white as snow and most of them had fur that blended perfectly with the trees with those brown streaks.
What the hell...
I've never heard of werewolves being this intelligent.
Panic seized me; death seemed inevitable. I frantically scanned my surroundings, desperate for an escape. But my efforts were thwarted by my own frailty.
It was either fight or flight, but flight was ruled out in my options.
A sudden onslaught of weakness—the consequence of some lingering ailment—made my muscles fail me. I was cursing nonstop when my knees wouldn't move.
This paralysis is going to get me killed!
I reached out to the compartment in my holster where my medication was. When I was about to inject it, a huge paw immediately knocks it off. The injection's body shattered into the snow, it's vial seeped into the ground.
"No!!!" I dropped into my knees as I desperately tried to dig the vial from the snow. But it was too late.
I'm too far gone.
Werewolves closed the distance, and the realization of my vulnerability paralyzed me further. My only weapons, a dagger and a cherished flintlock, were woefully inadequate. I had left some of my weapons behind in the cabin to protect the woman who had entrusted me with the Wolfsbane. I couldn't simply grab her flowers and let her fend for herself.
I should have been more prepared.
A plan formed in my mind—I would use the dagger to break their formation, find an opening, and flee to a distance my knees could bring me. I reached for the weapon at my belt, determination coursing through me. Yet, as I rose, my joints betrayed me. The dagger tumbled to the icy ground, my body refusing to respond.
I fell again to the ground, head first into the snow. My body throbbed and then, it turned numb from the cold.
Stranded and defenseless, I could only watch as the werewolves closed in. My vision spun, the pain in my head mingling with the disorienting feeling of being lifted off the ground, leaving me at the mercy of the monstrous beings in the haunting silence of the woods.
A pair of snow-colored boots were the last thing I had seen, and the chilling-deep voice of a man.
"Bring her in my cage."