The forest seemed to close in around them as Ryn and the Spirit Fox moved deeper into the Wildlands, their steps muffled by the soft layer of moss and fallen leaves. The memory of the Gorehound's twisted form burned in Ryn's mind, its glowing red eyes a haunting reminder of how quickly the Wildlands could turn deadly.
"Keep moving," Ryn whispered, his voice tight with urgency. "If it picks up our trail, we're done."
The Spirit Fox chirped softly, staying close to his side as they navigated through the dense trees. Its glow was dim now, its usual brightness muted as if it instinctively knew that drawing attention could mean death.
Ryn's fingers tightened around the hilt of his knife. He wasn't naïve enough to think that they could fight the Gorehound and win—not now, not without a better plan and more strength.
They had to stay ahead of it.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as they pressed on, the forest growing darker and more oppressive. The faint mist clinging to the ground thickened, and the air carried a sour, metallic tang that set Ryn's teeth on edge.
Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig made his heart race.
The bond between him and the Spirit Fox pulsed faintly, a comforting rhythm that helped steady his nerves. He glanced down at the fox, its glowing eyes sharp and focused as it scanned their surroundings.
"We'll find a way out," Ryn said, more to himself than to the fox. "We just have to—"
A distant snarl cut through the forest, freezing him mid-sentence.
The Spirit Fox stiffened, its ears flattening as it growled low in its throat.
Ryn's stomach dropped. The Gorehound was closer than he'd hoped.
"Damn it," he muttered, his grip on the knife tightening. "It's following us."
The snarl came again, louder this time, and Ryn could hear the crunch of heavy footfalls on the forest floor. The Gorehound wasn't just tracking them—it was hunting them.
"We need to run," Ryn said, his voice trembling. "Now."
The Spirit Fox chirped sharply, its glowing tail flicking as it darted ahead.
Ryn followed, his heart pounding as he sprinted through the trees. Branches whipped at his face and arms, and the uneven ground threatened to trip him with every step, but he didn't slow down.
Behind them, the snarls grew louder, more guttural.
Ryn risked a glance over his shoulder and felt his blood run cold. The Gorehound was charging through the forest, its massive form crashing through the underbrush with terrifying speed. Its red eyes burned like twin flames, locked onto him and the fox with unrelenting focus.
"Faster!" Ryn shouted, pushing himself to keep up with the Spirit Fox.
The fox darted ahead, its smaller frame weaving effortlessly between the trees. Ryn did his best to follow, but his lungs burned and his legs ached, the weight of his pack dragging him down.
The bond pulsed sharply, and Ryn felt a surge of energy—an echo of the Spirit Fox's determination that gave him the strength to keep moving.
The Gorehound let out a thunderous roar, and Ryn could hear its claws tearing into the ground as it closed the distance.
"We can't outrun it," Ryn gasped, his mind racing. "We need to lose it somehow."
The Spirit Fox chirped, its glowing eyes darting to a cluster of thick trees ahead. Without hesitation, it veered toward them, its tail swishing as it flickered in and out of sight with Radiant Step.
Ryn followed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he ducked under low branches and leapt over exposed roots. The fox's movements were precise and deliberate, leading him through the narrowest gaps and sharpest turns in an effort to slow the Gorehound's pursuit.
The bond pulsed again, and Ryn felt the fox's plan taking shape in his mind.
"It's too big to follow us here," Ryn realized, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heartbeat. "Smart."
The Gorehound's snarls grew fainter as the dense trees forced it to slow down, its massive frame struggling to navigate the narrow spaces.
For a moment, Ryn allowed himself to hope.
And then the ground gave way beneath him.
Ryn hit the ground hard, the air rushing from his lungs as he tumbled down a steep slope. His knife flew from his hand, and his pack slammed into his back as he rolled uncontrollably, the world spinning around him.
The Spirit Fox let out a sharp cry, its glowing form darting after him as he finally came to a stop at the base of the slope.
"Ugh," Ryn groaned, his head spinning as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. "What the hell just happened?"
The fox chirped anxiously, nudging his arm as it circled him.
"I'm fine," Ryn muttered, though his ribs ached and his palms were scraped raw. "I think."
He glanced around, realizing that they had landed in a shallow ravine. The walls rose steeply on either side, their surfaces slick with moss and roots.
"Great," Ryn said, wincing as he stood. "Now we're trapped."
The Spirit Fox growled softly, its glowing eyes darting to the slope above them.
Ryn followed its gaze, his stomach dropping as the Gorehound's massive silhouette appeared at the edge of the ravine.
The beast snarled, its red eyes blazing as it stared down at them.
"It's not giving up," Ryn whispered, his throat dry.
The Gorehound let out a deafening roar and leapt into the ravine, its claws digging into the ground as it landed with a thunderous crash.
The Spirit Fox stepped in front of Ryn, its fur flaring brightly as it growled, ready to fight.
"We can't take it head-on," Ryn said, his mind racing. "We need a plan."
The bond pulsed, and Ryn felt a flicker of an idea—something desperate, but their only chance.
"Alright," he said, gripping the Spirit Fox's fur briefly. "Trust me on this."
The fox chirped sharply, its tail swishing as it darted forward.
The Gorehound lunged, its massive claws tearing into the ground where the fox had been moments before.
Ryn darted to the side, his hands scrambling for his knife as the fox led the Gorehound in a dizzying series of feints and dodges.
The bond flared, and Ryn could feel the fox's energy surging, its movements precise and calculated.
"Keep it distracted!" Ryn shouted, his grip tightening on the knife.
The Spirit Fox darted behind the Gorehound, its glowing tail flicking as it used Radiant Step to disorient the massive beast.
Ryn spotted his opening.
With a fierce cry, he lunged forward, driving the knife into the Gorehound's exposed flank.
The beast roared in pain, its form twisting as dark energy erupted from its wounds.
"Now!" Ryn shouted.
The Spirit Fox leapt onto the Gorehound's back, its glowing claws sinking into the creature's corrupted flesh. A surge of blue light erupted from the fox, engulfing the Gorehound in a blinding wave of energy.
The beast let out one final, furious roar before collapsing, its massive body dissolving into wisps of black smoke.
Ryn dropped to his knees, his chest heaving as the Spirit Fox trotted over to him, its glow dim but steady.
"You did it," Ryn said, his voice hoarse. "We did it."
The bond pulsed faintly, and Ryn felt the fox's pride and relief echo through him.
For the first time since entering the Wildlands, Ryn allowed himself to hope.