The Spine was a place of untamed wilderness, where every creature had a place, and every day was a test of skill. For Leo, now six years old, it was the perfect playground to hone his survival instincts. Today, the hunt was different. It wasn't about trapping rabbits or fishing in the stream—today, Leo was tracking something larger.
He had noticed the signs earlier: a trail of broken branches, fresh paw prints in the mud, the unmistakable scent of a bear. Roderic had warned him before about the dangers of such creatures—bears were formidable, especially this time of year, when they were preparing for the long winter. But Leo was determined. He had been taught to be patient, to listen to the land, and now he was putting that knowledge to the test.
He moved quietly through the dense undergrowth, his small frame barely making a sound. His bow was slung across his back, and his knife was sheathed at his side. Every step was calculated, every movement slow and deliberate. His father's lessons rang in his ears: Patience. Focus. Watch for the signs.
After a few hours of careful tracking, Leo spotted it—a large cave nestled in a rocky outcrop, its entrance hidden by thick bushes and branches. The scent of the bear was strong here, a sharp musk that told Leo he had found the den. He crouched low, scanning the area for any signs of danger.
The bear's nest was not far ahead. Leo's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and caution. He knew the risk, but there was something exhilarating about the hunt—the challenge of outwitting such a powerful creature.
He moved closer, his boots crunching softly against the dry leaves. He could see the large, dark shape of the bear curled up inside the den. The bear's breathing was slow, rhythmic, and Leo knew it was asleep. This was his chance.
But just as he was about to draw an arrow, a loud rustling behind him broke the silence. Leo whipped around, his heart leaping in his chest. The bear had woken, startled by the sudden sound. It rose on all fours, towering over Leo, its beady eyes locked onto him with a terrifying gaze.
In a flash, the bear let out a low growl and charged at him, its massive paws thundering against the ground. Leo's instincts kicked in. He turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, the bear's growls echoing in his ears.
The ground beneath him was uneven, the trees and rocks a blur as he dashed through the woods, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His heart pounded in his chest as he darted between trees, but he could hear the bear closing the distance, its heavy breathing growing louder with each step.
Leo's foot caught on a root, and for a split second, he lost his balance. He stumbled forward, his body crashing into the ground, but before he could recover, the edge of a cliff loomed ahead. The drop was steep, the jagged rocks below a deadly sight.
He barely had time to react before his feet slipped, and he was falling—plummeting through the air, the wind whipping past him like a thousand sharp knives. His mind raced, but there was nothing he could do to stop the fall.
The world spun wildly around him, the sound of the bear's growls fading into nothing as the earth below seemed to rise up to meet him.
When Leo finally hit the ground, it was with a violent crash that knocked the air from his lungs. His body slammed against the rocky outcrop, the pain immense. The world around him was a blur, his head spinning, and his breath ragged. For a long moment, everything was silent except for the ringing in his ears.
Leo lay still, his mind struggling to piece together what had just happened. His chest ached, and his limbs felt numb, but he knew he had to move. He had survived the fall—barely.
His hands shook as he pushed himself to his knees. His vision was blurry, but he could see that he was in a strange place—somewhere deep within the Spine, far from the safety of the cabin. His father would be worried, but he couldn't think about that now. He had to focus on surviving.
As he struggled to his feet, Leo's gaze fell upon something unexpected—something that caught his attention despite the pain.
A cave.
It was nestled into the rock face not far from where he had fallen, its entrance hidden by thick vines and shadows. For a moment, Leo hesitated. Should he approach? Was it safe? But something about the cave called to him, urging him forward.
With a deep breath, Leo staggered toward it, every step heavy with exhaustion. As he neared the entrance, he could smell something—earthy, musty, and faintly metallic. It was the same scent he had smelled earlier, when he was tracking the bear.
But this time, it wasn't a bear that awaited him inside.
As Leo stepped into the cave, his mind was still reeling from the fall. He didn't know how long he'd been walking, but the air in the cave was thick and heavy. His body ached with every movement, but the compulsion to enter was stronger than the pain.
When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the figure.
It was an Urgal.
Lying on the ground, the creature was covered in blood, its massive frame sprawled across the cave floor. Its breaths were shallow and labored, and Leo could see the scars that marred its body—marks from countless battles. The creature's eyes were dim, but they still held a glimmer of something—recognition, perhaps, or understanding.
And then, with a final, labored breath, the Urgal spoke.
"Take it... the compendium... it's yours now."
Leo's hands trembled as the dying Urgal reached out, placing something cold and heavy in his hands—a book. The compendium.
The creature's gaze flickered, its life ebbing away, and Leo could only watch in stunned silence as the Urgal gave one final, rasping sigh.
The cave grew quiet. The only sound was the heavy thrum of Leo's heartbeat as he stood over the fallen creature, clutching the compendium tightly in his hands.