The morning light filtered through the dense canopy of the Whisperwood Forest, casting dappled patterns on the ground below. The air was fresh, tinged with the earthy scent of moss and wildflowers. For the hunters of the village, it was a perfect day for their routine patrol—a chance to ensure the paths remained clear and the forest's delicate balance undisturbed.
Kael led the group, his seasoned eyes scanning the surroundings with practiced ease. Behind him, a handful of hunters followed, their tools and weapons slung across their backs. Rynar trailed near the rear, carrying a heavier load of supplies without complaint. At thirteen, his imposing frame and quiet confidence had earned him a place among the hunters, even if his role was unofficial.
"Nice day for a walk, eh?" one of the younger hunters joked, nudging his companion. "Maybe we'll even catch something worth roasting tonight."
Kael snorted, his sharp gaze never wavering. "Stay focused. The forest doesn't care how nice the weather is."
Rynar, silent as ever, felt the weight of Kael's words. His green eyes scanned the trees, noting subtle shifts in the environment—branches bent unnaturally, faint claw marks etched into bark, patches of disturbed soil. The forest felt different today, heavier, as if holding its breath.
---
The group made steady progress, cutting through overgrown trails and marking paths for the village's use. Birds sang overhead, and the rustle of small animals in the underbrush offered a sense of normalcy. Yet, the farther they ventured, the quieter the forest became.
By midday, the hunters reached a clearing where they planned to rest. Rynar lowered the heavy bundle of tools he'd been carrying, his sharp hearing catching something beyond the usual forest sounds—a low, almost imperceptible growl.
Kael noticed his son's stillness. "What is it?" he asked quietly.
Rynar's jaw tightened. "Something's off. The forest... it's too quiet."
One of the older hunters chuckled nervously. "Maybe the birds are taking a break."
But Rynar wasn't convinced. His senses, honed beyond normal human limits, picked up faint vibrations in the ground and a musky scent on the wind. He rose to his feet, his broad shoulders tense.
Kael followed his gaze, his expression darkening. "We move. Now."\
---
The group pressed on, the atmosphere growing heavier with each step. Soon, they stumbled upon a scene that froze them in their tracks. The ground was torn apart, deep claw marks raking through the soil. Trees lay shattered, their trunks splintered as if by an immense force. A sickly metallic scent lingered in the air.
"What in the gods' name..." one of the hunters whispered, his voice trailing off.
Kael knelt to examine the marks. His hand hovered over the gouges in the earth, his face grim. "This wasn't just any animal."
Rynar crouched beside him, his eyes narrowing as he traced the marks with a calloused finger. "These claws are huge. Whatever did this... it's close."
The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, a sound cut through the stillness—a deep, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate in their bones. Slowly, the hunters turned toward the source.
---
From the shadows of the forest, the creature stepped forward. It was massive, easily twice the height of a man and covered in sleek black fur that shimmered faintly in the dappled sunlight. Its red eyes glowed like embers, locking onto the group with a predatory focus.
"It's a Bloodfang," Kael murmured, his voice barely audible.
The hunters recoiled in shock. The Bloodfang was a predator of legend, known for its strength, speed, and intelligence. It was said that even seasoned knights struggled to take one down. The hunters, armed with spears and bows, were woefully unprepared.
The creature growled again, baring razor-sharp fangs. Its claws dug into the earth as it lowered its massive frame, muscles coiling like springs.
Kael raised his voice. "Defensive positions! Don't let it charge!"
The hunters scrambled into formation, their fear evident in their movements. Rynar stepped forward instinctively, his fists clenching at his sides.
The Bloodfang lunged with startling speed, its bulk moving faster than the eye could follow. The hunters barely had time to react. Spears jabbed at its sides, but the beast swatted them away with ease, sending one man tumbling into the underbrush.
Kael barked orders, trying to keep the group organized, but the Bloodfang's raw power was overwhelming. It smashed through their defenses, its claws tearing into the earth as it roared.
Rynar watched, his body tense. He saw Kael narrowly avoid a swipe of the creature's claws, his father's spear snapping under the force. The hunters were outmatched. They couldn't win this fight.
"Fall back!" Kael shouted. "Retreat to the village!"
But Rynar didn't move. His green eyes locked onto the Bloodfang, his mind racing. If they ran, it would follow. The village wasn't safe—not as long as this thing was alive.
The Bloodfang snarled, turning its attention to the retreating hunters. Kael glanced over his shoulder, his heart pounding as he realized Rynar wasn't following.
"Rynar!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"
Rynar stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "You go. I'll handle this."
Kael's eyes widened in disbelief. "You can't—"
"I can," Rynar interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The Bloodfang growled, its red eyes narrowing as it sized up its new opponent. Rynar planted his feet, his hands clenching into fists, ready for what is to come.