Nightfall brought them no peace.
Snow and Lian sat with their backs to a massive, gnarled tree, their bodies tense, their weapons never far from reach. Around them, the remains of their battle lay in grotesque silence—wolf corpses littered the ground, their blood darkening the forest floor. The once-heavy mist had thinned, but the eerie glow of unseen eyes still flickered beyond the trees.
The attacks had stopped.
But they knew this reprieve was nothing more than the eye of the storm.
Lian wiped the sweat from her forehead, her dagger resting across her lap. "We can't keep this up," she murmured, exhaustion creeping into her voice. "If they attack again before we get any real rest, we'll make a mistake."
Snow said nothing. His sharp gaze swept the darkened forest, searching for movement, listening for the telltale rustle of leaves. Yet, aside from the occasional distant growl, there was nothing.
Too quiet.
His fingers flexed against his sword hilt. The wolves weren't retreating. They were waiting.
Still, even he had limits. With a deep breath, Snow closed his eyes, resting his head against the bark. "We take turns keeping watch," he said. "Even a little rest is better than none."
Lian hesitated before nodding. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body, shifting to find a more comfortable position. "I'll take first watch," she said, though fatigue weighed heavily on her.
Snow didn't argue. He let himself drift into a light meditation, not true sleep, but enough to recover some energy. Yet every distant snarl, every rustling leaf snapped him back to full awareness.
He barely rested at all.
The first light of dawn bled through the trees in muted rays, casting long, distorted shadows. Snow and Lian rose stiffly, their bodies aching from the night's battles and lack of rest. Their surroundings were a grim reminder of the struggle—carrion birds had already begun circling above, drawn by the scent of blood.
"We need to move. Fast," Snow said.
Their goal was clear: the western edge of the forest. If they could cross the boundary, they'd leave this nightmare behind.
The wolves returned as expected. But this time, something was different.
The first attack came within minutes of their departure. Three wolves, moving with the same deadly precision as before. Snow and Lian dispatched them swiftly.
Then another wave came. And another.
But Snow noticed it before Lian did.
The numbers were dwindling.
The wolves came in smaller groups, their attacks less aggressive, less frequent. The pressure they had felt throughout the night was easing—not because they had broken the pack, but because the wolves were withdrawing.
And that worried Snow more than anything.
By midday, the attacks had stopped entirely.
Lian sheathed her dagger, her breath still heavy from the last skirmish. "They've stopped…" she said warily. "Did we finally kill enough of them?"
Snow shook his head, his eyes locked onto the dense treeline ahead. The silence wasn't relief—it was a warning.
The pack had never been the true danger.
They had been herding them. Driving them forward.
Towards something worse.
Snow's grip tightened around his sword. His heart pounded—not from exhaustion, but from a chilling certainty.
They hadn't escaped.
They had only reached something worse
The silence weighed heavier than the battles that had come before.
Snow and Lian stood amidst the trees, their breathing controlled, their senses sharpened to the stillness around them. The wolves had disappeared, but their presence lingered like an unseen noose tightening around their necks.
No growls. No shifting in the underbrush. No red eyes watching from the mist.
It was wrong.
Lian slowly reached for her water flask, her fingers steady despite the tension coiling in her body. "This doesn't feel like victory," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Snow exhaled slowly, his grip firm on his sword. His instincts screamed at him. Not to fight. Not to run. But to prepare.
The wolves had never been hunting them.
They had been delivering them.
A twig snapped.
Not behind them. Ahead.
Lian tensed, her dagger already in hand. Snow shifted his stance, eyes locking onto the trees in front of them. The air felt different—heavier, suffocating. The wind no longer stirred the leaves.
Then, from the shadows, it emerged.
A beast unlike the others.
It was massive, larger than any wolf they had fought before. Its fur was a shade of deep obsidian, swallowing the light around it. Its eyes glowed—not red like the pack, but a sickly, unnatural gold.
And it wasn't alone.
From the surrounding trees, more figures stepped forward. Not in mindless aggression, but with the calculated movements of something that knew it owned this land.
The Alpha had arrived.
Snow's breath came slow and measured. This was its territory. The wolves had been nothing more than pawns in a much larger game.
Lian swallowed hard, keeping her stance steady. "Snow…"
"I know," he said. His muscles coiled like a drawn bowstring.
The golden-eyed beast lowered its head slightly—not in submission, but in acknowledgment. A hunter recognizing another predator.
Then it charged.
Snow moved.
His blade flashed, slicing through the air toward the beast's throat.
But the Alpha was fast. Faster than anything he had fought before.
It dodged, twisting mid-motion, claws raking toward his chest. Snow barely managed to pivot, the wind of the strike brushing past his ribs.
Lian struck from the side, aiming for its flank, but the beast turned, its tail whipping out like a battering ram. The impact sent her crashing into a tree with a sharp gasp.
Snow's eyes narrowed. It is playing with us.
Testing us.
And beyond the Alpha, the rest of the pack had returned.
Dozens of glowing eyes, watching, waiting.
They were still not out of trouble..The real challenge was now and the pack will not give them any respite..
While the Alpha was playing with them the rest of the wolves were attacking them occasionally trying to tire them
"LIAN take care of the occasional wolves attack I will take care of the alpha" before Lian could respond Snow dashed toward the Alpha