Chapter Ten : basic training
His stomach growled a thunderous protest. With a shaky breath, he pushed himself to his paws and staggered towards the river. The cool water was a balm to his parched throat. He drank deeply, the icy liquid soothing his burning insides.
Hours later, the moon hung high in the sky, casting eerie shadows through the trees. A strange metallic scent filled the air, a sharp contrast to the usual earthy aroma of the forest. It was a scent he recognized, a scent of blood. A shiver ran down his spine. He was no ordinary creature; he was Subject 427, an experiment, a being with heightened senses and an unnatural understanding of pain and fear.
The scent led him to a gnarled old tree. A dark shape lurked behind it. Adrenaline surged through him as he crouched low, his muscles tense. His heart pounded in his ears. But after a long moment, there was no movement. Cautiously, he circled the tree, finding a gap in the undergrowth.
A man lay slumped against the tree trunk, his eyes closed. A dagger, still embedded in his shoulder, glinted in the moonlight. The man was pale, his breathing shallow and labored. Despite the man's imposing figure, with his black hair, toned arms, and remnants of armor, he looked vulnerable and broken.
A flicker of compassion stirred within the creature. This was no hunter, no threat. This was a wounded being, just like him, fighting for survival. The forest was filled with whispers, a haunting melody that sent shivers down his spine. He was not alone in this world, and the darkness was watching.