As he was sitting under the tree, he thought of putting up a barrier magic around his whole area but decided to put it only around his house.
The next day, Fayne woke up groaning softly and sat on his bed, watching as sunlight filtered through the cracks of the wooden wall, casting warm patterns across his face. For a moment, he just sat there — silent, half lost between sleep and thought.
Outside, birds chirped faintly, and the forest air carried the scent of dew and earth. He rubbed his neck and muttered, "Still sore…" remembering the fight from the previous night. His eyes drifted toward the door — the new scratches still visible on its surface.
He stood, stretched, and walked outside barefoot. The morning was cool. He raised his hand slightly and murmured an incantation under his breath. A faint shimmer rippled through the air — the barrier activating, forming a soft, invisible dome around his cabin.
The spell hummed faintly for a moment before fading from sight. Fayne nodded, satisfied.
"Should keep unwanted guests out," he said quietly.
He took a slow breath, looking toward the dense forest ahead. There was always something moving out there — eyes he could feel, but never see.
Still, he picked up his spear, slung it across his back, muttering,
"Another day, same silence."
The barrier behind him pulsed faintly once, then settled — a quiet reminder that home was still safe, for now.
Fayne walked deeper into the forest, his boots brushing against damp leaves. He followed the narrow trail he'd carved over the years, one that wound between moss-covered roots and ancient stones. The forest was alive with morning light, but even beauty couldn't hide the unease that lingered there.
"The woods had been too quiet lately", he said to himself quietly.
He stopped.
A faint sound — a rustle — came from ahead. Not a sharp movement, but something light. He tightened his grip on his spear. From behind a tree, a small creature stumbled into view. Its fur was white, streaked with blood. At first glance, it looked like a fox — but its eyes shimmered faintly blue, he lowered his stance, his eyes narrowing. The creature looked fragile, trembling as it tried to stand.
He glanced around. No growls, no movement.
"If it had been attacked, its pursuer was gone — or watching"
Cautiously, he approached looking around. The creature flinched and bared its teeth, but its strength failed, and it collapsed onto the cold earth.
Fayne stopped a few paces away and spoke softly,
"Easy there buddy… I'm not here to hurt you or something."
The creature whimpered.
He glanced toward the deeper forest, where the light seemed thicker, heavier — like the air itself was watching.
The creature made a soft, pained chirp, snapping his attention back. It was fading fast.
Fayne sighed, kneeling beside it. "You're trouble, aren't you?" He pressed a hand over its wound and whispered an old healing phrase. A faint green glow spread from his palm, wrapping the creature in light. Its breathing slowed, then steadied.
The blue in its eyes flickered — then dimmed.
It looked up at him, weak but alert. Fayne leaned back, watching the faint shimmer of residual magic drift from its fur. "You're no ordinary fox," he murmured.
A gust of wind passed through the trees, and the forest suddenly fell silent again — not peaceful, but tense.
Fayne's hand moved back to his spear.
"Whatever did that to you…" he said quietly, scanning the shadows,
"…might not be far."