"Bravery isn't the absence of fear—it's moving forward despite it."
Evanna shifted uncomfortably on the creaking wooden cart, her gaze fixed on the looming shadow of the Wildlands ahead. The gnarled trees twisted together like skeletal hands, their dense canopy swallowing the sun. Even the wind seemed hesitant to pass through.
"Not exactly welcoming, is it?" she muttered under her breath.
The merchant driving the cart chuckled nervously, wiping sweat from his brow despite the cool morning air. "You'll get used to it... or you won't," he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Honestly, I'm just glad this'll be over soon. Once we reach the drop-off point, I'm turning this cart around and never looking back."
"Such confidence," Evanna said dryly. She looked at the two soldiers riding alongside them. Their hands gripped their weapons tightly, their eyes darting at every rustle in the undergrowth. "What about you two? Feeling brave?"
One of the soldiers, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, scoffed. "Bravery won't save you in the Wildlands, girl. Out here, the beasts don't care how tough you think you are."
"Thanks for the pep talk," Evanna shot back, crossing her arms.
The other soldier, younger and visibly shaking, leaned closer to his companion. "Do you think... do you think the Beastlord's real?" he whispered.
"Shut it, Mik," Scarface snapped. "Talking about him'll only bring trouble."
Evanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of—what are you all so scared of? They're just animals. Dangerous, sure, but predictable. Not some mythical, bloodthirsty monster."
The merchant gave her a sidelong glance. "You don't understand, miss. The Wildlands aren't like the village. Here, the rules are different. And if you're not careful..." He trailed off, gripping the reins tighter.
Evanna didn't reply. She could feel the weight of their fear pressing down on her, but she refused to let it sink in. She had made up her mind: she would survive this journey, find out the truth about the Beastlord, and end this ridiculous tradition.
---
As the day wore on, the scenery changed. The barren fields surrounding Briarmoor gave way to lush greenery. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves glowing faintly as sunlight filtered through the canopy. Vines hung like curtains, swaying gently in the breeze.
Evanna couldn't help but marvel at the untamed beauty of it all. "It's... not what I expected," she admitted.
"Enjoy the view while you can," the merchant grunted. "It gets worse the deeper you go."
Scarface snorted. "Much worse."
The sound of rustling leaves snapped everyone's attention to the right. The younger soldier, Mik, nearly dropped his spear.
"What was that?" he hissed, his voice trembling.
Scarface unsheathed his sword, his eyes narrowing. "Stay alert."
The merchant pulled the cart to a halt. "This... this is where things get tricky," he muttered, scanning the treeline. "They're watching us."
"They?" Evanna asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
Her question was answered by a low growl. Shadows moved between the trees, yellow eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Wolves," Scarface said, his voice grim. "Big ones."
A pack of dire wolves emerged from the undergrowth, their hulking forms bristling with muscle and fur. Their snarls filled the air as they surrounded the cart, their teeth bared and dripping with saliva.
Mik's spear trembled in his hands. "W-what do we do?"
Scarface squared his shoulders, though his grip on his sword betrayed his fear. "We fight. What else?"
"No," the merchant hissed. "If you attack, they'll tear us apart!"
"And if we do nothing?" Scarface shot back, his voice rising. "You think they'll just let us go?"
Evanna stood, her movements deliberate. "Put the sword down," she said, her voice calm but firm.
"What?" Scarface barked. "Are you insane? You'll get us all killed!"
"Trust me," she said, stepping off the cart.
The wolves snarled louder as she approached, their hackles raised. The largest of the pack—a black-furred alpha with scars crisscrossing its face—fixed its piercing gaze on her.
Evanna took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She knelt, lowering herself to their level. "I'm not here to hurt you," she said softly, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her. "I know you're just protecting your territory."
The alpha growled, but it didn't move.
The merchant whispered frantically, "What is she doing?"
"Dying," Scarface muttered, though his grip on his sword slackened.
Evanna held out her hand, palm up. "You don't need to fight us. We're just passing through. No one here wants to hurt you."
The alpha took a step forward, its massive paws silent on the forest floor. The other wolves watched, their growls subsiding.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then, the alpha sniffed her hand and let out a low huff. It turned, padding back into the trees. One by one, the rest of the pack followed, disappearing into the shadows as silently as they had appeared.
Evanna exhaled slowly, rising to her feet.
Mik's jaw dropped. "How... how did you do that?"
Scarface sheathed his sword, his expression unreadable. "Lucky, that's all."
The merchant stared at her, his face pale. "That wasn't luck," he said. "The Beastlord... he chose you for a reason, didn't he?"
Evanna frowned. "Don't start with that nonsense."
But as she climbed back onto the cart, her thoughts churned. She couldn't deny the strange connection she had felt with the wolves. It wasn't the first time she'd calmed an animal, but this was different.
As the cart rolled forward, the forest seemed quieter, almost as if it were holding its breath again.
From somewhere in the distance, a pair of golden eyes watched her.
---
Evanna thought the wolves were a test—but the real challenge was waiting deeper in the Wildlands.