The first day passed without incident, but as night fell, the forest took on an even more ominous feel. They set up camp in a small clearing, the fire crackling softly as they sat around it, taking turns on watch. Arak sat near the flames, watching the shadows dance along the trees, his mind still racing with worries about the village.
"We should reach the river by midday tomorrow," Joran said, breaking the silence. "Crossing it will be tricky, especially if the currents are strong, but after that, it's a straight path to the Ember Tribe's territory."
Mari stretched her legs out in front of her, leaning back on her hands. "Let's hope the river's kind to us. Last time I was out this way, it nearly swept me off my feet."
Niko, who had been sharpening his blade in silence, glanced up. "We'll manage."
But even as they tried to keep the mood light, Arak couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The forest was too quiet. He had expected to hear the usual sounds of wildlife—birds, insects, the rustling of small animals in the underbrush—but there was nothing. Just silence, thick and oppressive.
He glanced at Joran, who was staring into the dark treeline, his hand resting on his spear. "You hear that?" Arak asked quietly.
Joran frowned. "No. That's the problem."
The others fell silent, their eyes scanning the darkness beyond the firelight. The air seemed to grow heavier, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Mari stood up, her bow in hand, eyes narrowed. "Something's out there."
Arak rose to his feet, his hand going to his blade. The others followed suit, tense and ready. For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, just as Arak was about to speak, a sound pierced the air—a low, guttural growl that sent a chill down his spine.
The firelight flickered, casting eerie shadows as the growl grew louder. From the edge of the clearing, a pair of glowing eyes appeared in the darkness, followed by another, and another. Slowly, figures began to emerge from the shadows—large, four-legged creatures with matted fur and gleaming fangs. Their eyes burned with hunger.
"Wolves," Niko muttered, stepping forward with his blade raised.
But these weren't ordinary wolves. They were larger, their bodies twisted and deformed, as if the wilds had warped them into something more dangerous, more deadly.
"We need to move," Joran said, his voice low but urgent. "Now."
But before they could act, the wolves lunged.
Arak barely had time to draw his blade before one of the beasts was upon him, its teeth snapping inches from his face. He dodged to the side, slashing out with his blade and catching the creature across its side. It yelped in pain, but more were already closing in.
Mari's bow twanged as she fired off arrows in rapid succession, each one striking its target with deadly accuracy. Joran and Niko fought side by side, their weapons flashing in the firelight as they held the wolves at bay.
But for every wolf they cut down, more seemed to take its place, their glowing eyes surrounding the camp like a sea of fire.
"We can't fight them all!" Mari shouted, knocking another arrow. "We need to retreat!"
Arak knew she was right. They were outnumbered, and the wolves showed no sign of relenting. But where could they go? The forest was thick, the darkness pressing in on them from all sides.
Suddenly, Joran pointed to a gap in the treeline. "There! A path! We can break through!"
Without hesitation, Arak shouted, "Go! Now!"
They ran, pushing through the undergrowth as the wolves chased them, their snarls echoing in the night. The trees blurred around them as they sprinted through the forest, the sound of the wolves growing fainter behind them.
Finally, they burst out into a small clearing, the wolves seemingly having given up the chase. They collapsed to the ground, panting and exhausted.
Arak looked around, his heart still pounding. They had escaped for now, but the danger was far from over. The forest was proving to be just as treacherous as they had feared, and they still had a long way to go before they reached the Ember Tribe.