The old man's voice faltered, the weight of his memories overwhelming him as he spoke. "And once I ran outside to see what happened, I saw... I saw..." He trailed off, his hands trembling in his lap, eyes wide with the horror.
Amukelo placed a firm but gentle hand on the man's arm, offering a steadying presence. "I understand," he said softly. "You don't need to describe what happened to him. Just tell me what the beast looked like, and what happened after that."
The man took a shaky breath, trying to gather himself. "It… it looked like a wolf," he finally said, his voice low and uneven. "But it was way bigger, almost unnatural. Its fur was thick, much thicker than any normal wolf. And its eyes… they glowed red, like embers in the dark." He paused, his face contorting with fear at the memory. "I ran back to the house as fast as I could. It didn't follow me, but even then, I wasn't going to take any chances. I barricaded all the doors and windows that night, and I've kept them that way since."
The old man continued, his voice thick with weariness. "After that night, I sent my wife and children to Ansford. I didn't want them anywhere near this place. I've been maintaining the field on my own, but… there's nothing left now. All the animals are gone, either killed or disappeared, and I live in fear every night. Sometimes I hear scratching at the windows, or a distant howl in the darkness."
He looked up at Amukelo, his face etched with despair. "Please… please slay this monster. I just want my life back. I want my family to come home." His voice cracked.
"I will deal with it," Amukelo said, his tone firm and reassuring. He rose from his seat and offered the man a final look of resolve before heading toward the door.
The man didn't move, watching Amukelo leave with a mixture of hope and fear, as if daring to believe that this stranger could indeed restore the peace he so desperately craved. The door creaked as it closed behind Amukelo, and he stepped back out into the dull light of the day.
Amukelo took a moment to gather his thoughts before he began his investigation, his eyes scanning the perimeter of the house for anything unusual.
Almost immediately, he noticed long, deep claw marks gouged into the wooden siding of the hut. The marks were jagged, as though the beast had raked its claws across the surface in frustration.
Amukelo knelt by the marks, tracing them with his fingers. The depth and width of the claws were unusual—far larger than any wolf-like beast he ever encountered. He stood and followed the perimeter of the house, looking for more signs. His eyes caught sight of something in the distance: a field behind the house, where the ground was dark and stained with dried blood.
The sight was grim. Patches of dark, dried blood spattered the earth, and the carcasses of several animals lay scattered across the field, their bodies twisted and broken. Amukelo approached cautiously, kneeling beside one of the dead animals. Its body had been ravaged, torn apart by something feral and wild. The ground beneath it was dry, as though the blood had long since soaked into the earth. Flies buzzed around the corpses, the smell of decay heavy in the air.
His eyes scanned the area, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to the creature's movements. After a few moments of searching, he spotted a set of footprints near the edge of the field. The prints were large, far deeper than any normal wolf could make.
But something about the trail struck Amukelo as odd. The footprints weren't consistent. They would appear for a few paces, then disappear, only to reappear several feet away. Interspersed between them was another strange marking—a long, continuous line as if something had been dragged or slid across the ground, it was accompanied by streaks of dried blood.
'Is it possible that there are more beasts?' Amukelo thought, his mind racing with possibilities. The sliding trail could indicate the creature had been dragging something—or perhaps its prey—along with it.
After a few moments of consideration, he decided to follow the disrupted footprints first, figuring they might lead him to a more concrete answer.
The trail led him toward the edge of the forest that bordered the farmer's fields. The trees were thick, their branches intertwined to form a dense canopy that cast long shadows over the ground. Amukelo's movements were cautious as he entered the forest, his senses heightened by the eerie silence that surrounded him. The further he ventured in, the quieter it became.
He followed the disrupted tracks for what felt like a long while, his eyes carefully scanning the ground for any signs of disturbance. The prints grew fainter the deeper he went, until finally, they disappeared altogether.
In their place, he found something else: the skeleton of a large animal, half-buried beneath the underbrush. The bones were stark white against the dark, damp earth, picked clean by scavengers. There was no flesh left, only the bones and the faint smell of death lingering in the air. Amukelo knelt beside it, studying the skeleton closely, but there were no further signs of the creature that had dragged it here.
'Am I missing something?' he wondered, standing and scanning the surrounding trees. 'There should be more. This can't be the end of the trail.'
But the forest offered no further clues, only an oppressive silence that seemed to deepen with each passing moment. Amukelo stood there for a long time, weighing his options, before finally turning back toward the fields.
Amukelo spent the next hour painstakingly combing through the forest for any clue he might have missed. He retraced his steps multiple times, inspecting every shadowy nook and cranny, hoping to find something that would point him in the right direction. But despite his efforts, there was nothing. The faint trail he had followed earlier was the only lead, and it had gone cold in the forest's oppressive silence.
Frustration simmered inside him as he made his way back to the farmer's fields. The hunt was proving fruitless, and the weight of his failure began to settle on his shoulders. His arm, still weak from the battle with the Landwyrm, ached with every movement. Each time he flexed his fingers, it reminded him of how much weaker he felt now compared to before.
The thoughts of Pao, Bral, Bao, and Idin weighed heavily on his mind as he continued his investigation. 'If only Pao were here,' he thought bitterly. 'She would have used her spells to track the beast in no time. Or Bao… she'd have spotted some clue I missed, something hidden in the underbrush.'
He could picture them as if they were right beside him. Pao, with her patient but focused demeanor, weaving spells with precision to detect traces of magic or hidden paths. But now, he was alone. The thought gnawed at him, leaving a hollow feeling in his chest. Amukelo clenched his fists, trying to force the memories away, but they lingered, feeding his frustration and sadness.
After several failed attempts to follow different traces, each one ending in disappointment, Amukelo's frustration reached a boiling point. Each path he had chosen led him nowhere, and now the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting the landscape in deep purples and blues.
Amukelo returned to the farmhouse with a heavy heart, his mood dark and brooding. The farmer, weary and visibly anxious, greeted him at the door. Amukelo's expression must have betrayed his frustration because the old man didn't ask for an update. Instead, Amukelo spoke first.
"I'll stay tonight," he said, his voice flat. "The beast appears at night, so I'll wait for it here."
The farmer looked surprised, but there was a flicker of hope in his tired eyes. "Are you sure? It's dangerous."
Amukelo nodded. "I've faced worse. But I'll need something to attract it. Do you have any meat left? Something to lure it out?"
The old man hesitated, wringing his hands. "My supplies are almost gone… I don't have much left. But if we use the last of it and the beast doesn't come, I don't know how long I'll be able to hold out."
Amukelo's gaze softened slightly. He understood the man's desperation, but there wasn't much choice. "If the beast doesn't appear tonight, there's no telling how much longer it will continue to terrorize the area. We need to draw it out now, while I'm here."
The farmer nodded reluctantly, his fear of the beast outweighing his worry about supplies. After a moment of consideration, he disappeared inside the house and returned with a small amount of dried meat. He handed it to Amukelo, who thanked him quietly.
Amukelo took the meat and moved to the center of the ranch, carefully placing it on the ground. To make it appear as more tempting bait, he covered it with a piece of animal hide, shaping it to resemble another animal. The illusion wasn't perfect, but it would be enough to fool a hungry predator. He took a step back, retreating to a shadowy spot near the farmhouse, where he could observe the area without drawing attention to himself.
The hours passed slowly as Amukelo waited. The air grew cooler as the night deepened, and the moon hung high in the sky, casting a pale light over the fields. The silence was thick, broken only by the occasional rustle of wind through the trees or the distant creak of wood from the farmhouse. Amukelo's body was tense, every muscle on edge as he kept his eyes fixed on the bait. His breath was slow and steady, his mind focused, despite the lingering sadness in his heart.
Time crawled by, and just as Amukelo began to wonder if the beast would show at all, he heard it—a faint rustling in the distance. His entire body tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. He crouched low, eyes narrowing as he scanned the darkness. The sound grew louder as if something large was moving cautiously through the tall grass.
Then, out of the shadows, it appeared.
The beast emerged slowly, its massive form taking shape under the moonlight. It was huge, far larger than any wolf he had ever seen, with thick, matted fur that clung to its muscular frame. The fur was almost black, absorbing the light, but patches of it were streaked with what looked like dried blood. Its legs were long and powerful, each paw the size of a man's fist, with claws that glinted menacingly in the moonlight.
Its head was even more unnerving. The beast's muzzle was flat. Its eyes glowed a deep, unnatural red, the same color the old man had described, burning with a malevolent intelligence. The creature's jaws hung open slightly, revealing rows of jagged, yellowed teeth, dripping with saliva.
'A dire wolf?' Amukelo thought for a moment, his mind racing. However, something about this creature felt off. It moved with a calculated precision, as if it were more than just a wild animal. There was something almost sinister in the way it stalked forward, its glowing eyes scanning the area for any signs of danger.
As the beast came closer to the bait, Amukelo tightened his grip on his sword, his mind working quickly to assess the situation. The longer he watched, the more he became certain.
'No,' he thought, his eyes narrowing. 'This isn't a dire wolf. It's something else.'
The creature paused, sniffing the air, its glowing eyes fixed on the bait in the middle of the field.