The sound rolled through the forest, scattering birds from the canopy and rattling leaves in their branches. Woden didn't flinch. He simply shifted his stance, lowering the spear until the golden tip hovered an inch from the soil.
Mike moved first this time. He launched forward in a burst of heat, his claws flashing toward Woden's throat. The vessel didn't retreat, he stepped into the strike, deflecting the claws with the shaft of his spear and twisting it to rake the butt end across Mike's temple.
White light burst in Mike's vision, and before he could recover, the spearhead hooked around his ankle and yanked. Mike hit the ground hard, dirt exploding around him. Woden didn't follow with a killing thrust. He stepped back, giving Mike room to rise.
"Run," Woden said quietly. "Make it interesting."
Mike's jaw locked. He rose slowly, blood dripping down his cheek. "You want a chase?"
"I want the satisfaction of breaking you as you let Hecate break him." Woden's voice was low, venomous.
The massive bearded man moved again, impossibly fast. Mike met him head-on, ducking under the spear and slamming his shoulder into Woden's chest. The impact was like hitting stone, Woden barely moved, then drove an elbow into the back of Mike's neck, forcing him to stumble forward.
Mike spun, claws raking for Woden's face. The god's antlers caught the blow, runes sparking as Mike's talons glanced off. In the same motion, Woden swept the spear across, catching Mike in the ribs. The force lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into a tree, splintering the trunk.
Mike hit the ground on one knee, breath hissing between his teeth. The whispers inside his skull surged: burn him, tear him apart, make him feel what you feel. But he pushed them back just enough to keep control.
Woden stalked forward, his expression unreadable. "He screamed for you, in the end. Did you know that? He begged for me to save him."
Mike's vision tunneled. "You weren't there."
"I didn't need to be. I felt it. Every breath. Every cut. And you turned his body to ash when faced with the guilt of his death."
Mike's roar answered him, molten black and red fire pouring from his mouth. Woden slammed the butt of his spear into the ground, a shockwave rippling outward that split the flames around him, leaving him untouched.
The fight turned into a blur of movement. Mike lunged, Woden deflected, the spear flashed, claws tore. Every time Mike thought he had an opening, the god slid out of reach, punishing him with brutal precision strikes.
The forest floor became a battlefield of churned earth and shattered roots. Mike's breath came ragged now, his arms heavy, muscles burning. Woden was still steady, his movements as deliberate as they had been in the first exchange.
"Almost done?" Woden taunted. "He lasted longer than this against Hecate."
Mike's vision flickered with memories from Hecate. Hunter's face. Hunter's screams. Hecate's laugh.
Something inside Mike cracked. His body rippled as more of the dragon forced its way through, black scales spreading down his arms, his jaw reshaping, his tail slamming into the earth hard enough to crater it.
When he came at Woden this time, it wasn't with precision. It was with sheer, overwhelming force.
Woden blocked the first strike, parried the second but the third slammed into him like a battering ram, sending him skidding backward through the dirt. His cloak shredded on the roots.
Woden's smile returned. "Good. Now it's a hunt."
Mike came at him like a storm. His claws tore gashes in the soil as he drove forward, every strike a devastating blow. Woden's spear moved in tight, precise arcs, blocking, deflecting, and striking back with bone-shaking effeciency but for the first time, Mike saw him yield ground.
They burst through the treeline into a stretch of open field, the grass blackened and brittle from old fire. Here, there was no cover, no shadows for either of them to use. The sun bore down, glinting off the gold of Woden's spear and the jagged black of Mike's scales.
Mike's tail swept low, ripping up dirt and stones, forcing Woden to leap aside. Mike closed the gap, jaws snapping, catching the edge of the god's cloak. He yanked, spinning Woden, but the god twisted with it, driving the butt of the spear into Mike's knee.
The joint buckled, pain lancing up Mike's leg, but he didn't fall, he used the momentum, spinning with a roar and raking his claws across Woden's chest. The blow shredded cloth and bit deep enough to draw blood.
Woden's grin widened. "Finally."
The next exchange was nothing but visceral carnage, spear against claw, gold against black flame. Each impact sent shockwaves through the field, flattening the grass around them. Mike slammed a claw down, Woden stepped inside it, driving his shoulder into Mike's sternum before shoving him back with an upward spear strike.
Mike staggered, caught himself, then surged forward again and this time, his hand closed around the spear's shaft. He ripped it from Woden's grip and snapped the haft across his knee.
Woden didn't falter. The god's antlers flared with light, and in his hands, the weapon reformed, golden and whole again. "You can't break what I am."
They circled each other, both breathing hard now. Mike's scales were scorched in places from glancing blows; Woden's arm bled freely from a deep cut, dripping onto the blackened soil.
Then the air changed.
It was subtle at first, like a shift in pressure, but Mike saw Woden's head turn slightly, his expression sharpening. Somewhere far away, a horn sounded deep and resonant, not mortal.
The god's eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped. "Another hunt calls me."
Mike stepped forward. "We're not finished."
"We will be," Woden said, and there was something in his tone that made it sound like a promise, not a threat. "But not today."
"This is not the last of The Wild Hunt you will see. He will continue hunting you." Bahamut growled in a low tone. His voice finally reaching Mike through the whispers.
Light flared around Woden just enough to burn away the edges of his form. In the space of a heartbeat, the field was empty except for the scorch marks, the churned earth, and the lingering smell of smoke and blood.
Mike stood there for several seconds, chest heaving, his claws still trembling from the fight. The whispers in his head hissed at him to chase, to tear the god apart, but Woden was gone.
Finally, he let his dragon form recede just enough for the pain to register. His body ached. His leg throbbed. The cut on his shoulder bled sluggishly down his side.
Still, he turned west and started walking again.
Somewhere ahead, the road would take him to a settlement. Somewhere ahead, there'd be a way for him to contact Hamza or Binyai.
And somewhere behind him, in another realm, a god with antlers was waiting for the next hunt.