The wolf was still there.
Iris stared at it from the edge of the clearing, one hand clutching his basket like a shield. The beast sat a few paces away, massive body relaxed, golden eyes fixed calmly on him as if nothing strange had happened at all.
Which, in its opinion, might have been true.
In Iris' opinion, his entire life had just been set on fire.
"Okay," he said slowly, pointing at it. "You stay here. I go there."
He pointed at the vague direction of the village.
The beast blinked.
"Right." Iris nodded, as if they had reached some sophisticated agreement. "So I'm going to stand up. Like this. Then I'm going to walk away. And you – great terrifying murder-wolf – are going to stay in your murder-clearing and do absolutely nothing. Yes?"
He rose cautiously to his feet, every muscle tense. The wolf's gaze followed the motion, head tilting very slightly, ears pricking forward.
"Good," Iris said, nodding again. "Very good. Healthy boundaries. Love that for us."
He took one careful step back.
The wolf stood up.
Iris froze halfway through his second step, foot hovering above the ground.
"No," he whispered. "No. Sit back down. You don't understand. If you follow me, I will die. Not because of you. Well, maybe because of you. Mostly because my heart can't take it."
The beast padded toward him with slow, unhurried steps, the ground barely seeming to notice its weight. Now that it was standing, the size difference was truly unfair; its shoulders came up to his chest, and its head, if raised, could easily loom over his own.
Iris lifted his hands as if to halt a tidal wave.
"Whoa, whoa, hey... personal space!"
It stopped barely an arm's length away. Up close, its fur looked cleaner than it had any right to be for a forest beast. The wounds on its side were still there, but faintly sealed now, as if weeks of recovery had been crammed into minutes.
Its nose lowered. Warm breath washed over his torso as it sniffed at his shirt, his hands, his very existence.
He did his best not to hyperventilate.
"Look," he said, voice a little thin, "I get it. I fed you. You… did something… glowy. We had a weird moment. But that was a one-time thing. A forest fling. You stay in the dramatic wilderness, I go back to my boring, poverty-ridden village life, and we both pretend this neve–"
The beast stepped slightly to the side, positioning itself behind him. Its shoulder nudged his back. Gently.
Iris stumbled forward a step.
"…Did you just… push me?"
Another nudge. Firm this time, but still careful. His foot shifted again, forced to catch his weight unless he wanted to faceplant.
"You're escorting me?" he said faintly. "Oh no. No, no, no. That's worse. That's so much worse."
The wolf huffed, as if exasperated, and nudged him again.
"Fine!" Iris threw his hands up. "Fine. We walk. But if anyone screams, I'm telling them it was your idea."
He started toward the edge of the clearing, steps stilted and awkward. The wolf walked behind and slightly to the side, matching his pace with disturbing precision. It wasn't breathing down his neck, but he could feel its presence like a bonfire at his back.
Every rustle of leaves, every crack of twigs under their feet made him flinch. The forest no longer felt simply like a place full of beasts. It felt like the beasts had just received a memo with his name on it.
They emerged from the deeper shadows of the Green Maw into lighter woodland. Somewhere up ahead, the village lay past fields and the worn path he'd taken earlier.
Iris glanced over his shoulder.
The wolf glanced back, unblinking.
"Last chance to stay a mysterious figure in my traumatic memories," Iris said. "You could turn around now and live on as a legend. 'Once, I saw a giant wolf in the forest,' I'd tell people, and they'd call me crazy, and that would be that."
The beast continued walking.
"I hate this," he muttered.
As they pushed through a thicket, a low branch snapped back toward his face. He flinched too late.
Or he would have, if a massive paw hadn't shot out, claws delicately avoiding his skin, batting the branch away with absurd precision.
Iris blinked.
He turned his head slowly.
"…Did you just protect me from a stick?"
The wolf stared straight ahead, as if it had done nothing of note.
"Oh, great," he said. "Not only are you terrifying, you're chivalrous. That's just... perfect. Wonderful. This won't cause any issues at all."
They walked in strained silence for several minutes. The forest gradually thinned, the trees spreading out, more sunlight filtering through. The distant sounds of village life began to slip into the background: a dog barking, a child laughing, someone shouting about prices for turnips.
Iris swallowed.
"Okay," he said. "We're almost at the edge. This is the part where you realize this is a horrible idea and turn around. Yes? Maybe? Please?"
They stepped past the last line of trees.
The village lay ahead, modest houses clustered around a central well, smoke rising from a few chimneys, fields stretching out beyond. It was ordinary. Worn. Familiar.
Behind him, the wolf stepped out onto the open road, dark fur stark against the pale dirt and scrub.
No one was looking their way… yet.
"Listen," Iris said, spinning around to face the beast. "We need to have a serious talk. You cannot follow me home. Do you understand?"
The wolf sat down.
It did it with deliberate grace, planting itself in front of him like a furry boulder, as if to say: leaving is not on the schedule.
Iris stared.
It stared back.
"You think this is a negotiation," he said. "It's not. I am poor. Poor. Do you know what that means? I can barely feed myself. I can't feed you. You're huge. You'd eat my entire monthly budget for breakfast."
The beast blinked slowly, unbothered.
"And that's not even counting the part where you are a terrifying, mana-filled, 'oh no the forest beasts are getting stronger' monster that everyone is currently afraid of, while I am very attached to not being stabbed, burned, or banished."
He jabbed a thumb at his chest.
"Me: weak, broke villager. You: walking disaster rumor."
The wolf tilted its head, ears pricking as if trying to parse his rant.
"You can't come in," Iris insisted. "You can't come near the village. You have to go. Shoo."
He flapped his hands at it in what he hoped was a universal gesture for "go away."
The wolf did not move.
"Shoo," he repeated, feeling ridiculous. "Back. Return. Begone. Depart. Evacuate yourself. Dismiss."
One ear flicked. The beast's expression did not change, but somehow it radiated the air of someone enduring nonsense with quiet dignity.
Iris rubbed his face. "You're doing this on purpose."
A faint breeze ruffled the wolf's fur. It yawned, revealing a mouth full of teeth that could easily end his future, then closed its jaw again with quiet finality.
"That is not the reaction of something planning to leave," he muttered.
A shout drifted from up the road. "Hey, Iris! That you?"
He froze.
Slowly, he turned his head. One of his neighbors, Brenn, a man with a perpetual scowl and perpetually muddy boots, was walking toward the path, wiping his hands on a rough cloth, attention still mostly on the field behind him.
If Brenn walked another ten steps and looked up, he was going to get a very close, very personal introduction to Iris' new shadow.
Panic fluttered in Iris' chest.
"Okay," he hissed to the wolf. "Look. Stay. Hide. Something. Anything that involves you not being seen by people who carry pitchforks as a lifestyle choice."
The wolf flicked its tail once. Then, as Brenn drew closer, it… stepped slightly to the side.
That was it. No hiding in the trees. No sinking into the shadows. Just moving barely off the center of the road, like a noble too dignified to avoid being noticed.
"You have got to be kidding..."
"Iris?" Brenn called, finally looking up. "You were out in the f...."
He stopped.
His entire body went rigid. His face drained of color. His eyes locked on the wolf, widened, and then flicked to Iris with a look that clearly said, "What have you done and why are you still alive?"
"I can explain," Iris said, raising his hands.
Brenn's response was a strangled noise that might have been her name for some local deity, before it turned into a full-bodied shout. "BEAST! THERE'S A BEAST!"
Doors thudded open. Heads popped out of windows. A basket dropped somewhere with a clatter. It was as if the entire village had been waiting for an excuse to panic.
The wolf did not so much as twitch. It simply regarded the growing crowd with bored solemnity.
Iris, on the other hand, wanted to sink into the ground.
A small child pointed. "Wow! It's huge!"
"Get away from it!" an older woman shrieked, grabbing the child by the collar.
Within moments, a loose circle of villagers had half-formed at a "safe" distance, tools clenched in white-knuckled grips: pitchforks, hoes, the occasional rusty sword someone had inherited from a very braver ancestor. A few people whispered behind their hands, eyes darting between Iris and the beast.
"Is it… tame?" someone asked in a hushed tone.
"It's a forest wolf," another muttered. "Look at its size. That's no normal beast."
"Why isn't it attacking?" a third voice whispered. "Why is it just… sitting there?"
Why indeed.
Iris stood very, very still, trying to look as non-threatening as someone standing in front of a monster could look.
"Okay," he said carefully. "Everybody just… relax. It's not attacking. I'm not dead. So that's… good. That's progress. Let's appreciate that."
"Iris," Brenn said, voice a strained rasp, "why is it here? Why is it near the village? Why is it near you?"
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"Great question," he said. "Excellent question. If anyone knows the answer, please share with the class."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"It's following him," someone whispered.
"It came out of the forest with him."
"Did he… lure it here?"
"Is this his fault?"
The wolf's gaze swept lazily over the villagers, then returned to Iris as if waiting for his next brilliant decision.
He felt a sudden spike of indignation.
"Don't look at me like this is my plan," he hissed under his breath. "I tried to get rid of you. You refused to shoo."
He dragged a hand through his hair, then took a slow breath and raised his voice.
"Look, everyone, it's… not attacking. I think it's… uh… calm? Maybe injured. It's… um…"
Words. He needed words that didn't sound like "I accidentally brought a forest disaster to your doorstep."
Someone near the back whispered, "Could it be… a contracted beast?"
The murmurs intensified.
"Don't be stupid. Tamers don't live here."
"Exactly. We'd know if someone like that was among us."
"You need a ritual for a contract. A proper circle, materials, guides. The Guild regulates it."
"Then why is that thing sitting like a trained dog?!"
Iris blinked slowly.
"Wait," he said, loud enough to cut through the noise. "Hold on. Back up. You need rituals for that?"
Dozens of eyes swung to him.
"You didn't know?" one of the older women asked, half appalled, half incredulous.
"Contracts are dangerous," another elder said, stepping forward, voice shaking but firm. "You bind a beast's core to your own. If it breaks loose, it can tear your soul apart. That's why only registered Tamers perform them, under supervision. It's not something you just… stumble into."
His stomach dropped.
There was a faint, not-quite-voice echoing in the back of his mind. A sense of presence he couldn't shake, like a light under his skin that refused to go out. His heart still felt too loud in his chest, each beat thrumming with unfamiliar weight.
"Oh," he said weakly. "Well. Good to know."
One of the younger men pointed a shaking finger at the wolf. "Then why is that thing acting like his dog?"
The beast lifted its head with slow dignity and stared at the man. The poor fellow immediately shut his mouth and took several steps back.
"I don't have a dog," Iris said reflexively. "I can't afford one."
He paused.
He looked at the wolf. At its dark fur, its enormous size, its eyes that made him feel like his thoughts were being weighed and, more annoyingly, found lacking.
Without thinking, the words slipped out. "But if I did, I'd call him… Fluffy."
The forest wolf stared at him.
Not just looked. Stared.
The silence that followed somehow felt heavier than the mana wave earlier.
Iris felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
He cleared his throat. "Or… uh… maybe… Fang. Or Shadow. Or… Great Overlord of the Woods? Glowy Wolf of Impending Doom?"
The beast's eye twitched.
Actually twitched.
The crowd shifted uneasily, unable to hear his rapid-fire naming crime spree but sensing the strange tension all the same.
"Okay," Iris said quickly. "Not Fluffy. Message received. You're a majestic, terrifying entity who deserves a suitably dramatic, non-stupid name. Duly noted. Sorry."
The wolf huffed. Just once. A short exhale that sounded, somehow, profoundly unimpressed.
Iris felt something press at the edge of his awareness again. Not words, not exactly, but a distinct emotion:
Dignity.
"You're dramatic," he muttered. "And you're judging me. Fantastic. My own soul parasite is judging me."
"What did you say?" Brenn asked sharply.
"Nothing," Iris said. "Internal screaming. Ignore me."
An older man with a scarred jaw and a limp pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He was one of the few villagers who'd actually fought outside their little patch of land, back when his legs had been stronger and his patience longer.
He studied the wolf for a long moment, then looked at Iris with narrowed eyes.
"Boy," he said quietly, "when did you go into the forest?"
"This morning," Iris replied.
"And when did that… thing… start following you?"
Iris hesitated. Images flashed through his head: the glow in the clearing, the pressure, the feeling of something etching itself into his chest.
"…Recently," he said. "Very recently."
"Did you perform any rituals?" the old man pressed. "Draw any circles? Use any blood or stones or scrolls?"
"No," Iris said. "I can't even afford decent shoes. Do I look like someone who can afford a soul-binding ritual?"
The villagers exchanged glances.
"That pressure earlier," someone whispered. "I felt it. Just for a moment."
"That wasn't normal," another muttered. "The animals went wild. The birds flew off."
The old man's expression darkened, turning from suspicion to something like uneasy calculation. "If there was a contract… and no ritual… that's worse."
"Worse?" Iris echoed, voice rising. "How is that worse?"
"Because it means whatever happened ignored the rules," the old man said. "You don't want powers that ignore the rules. The rules are the only reason we're still alive."
The wolf turned its head slightly, eyes sliding away from the crowd to scan the nearby houses. Its ears flicked toward a sudden crash from a nearby yard where someone had tripped over a bucket in their hurry.
The movement made the villagers jump.
"How is it so calm?" a woman whispered. "Most beasts thrash at the scent of so many humans."
"Maybe it really is bound," Brenn said tightly.
"To him?"
The collective gaze boomeranged back to Iris.
Heat crawled up the back of his neck. "Why is everyone looking at me like I did this on purpose?"
"You walked out of the forest with a monster at your heels," someone snapped. "What are we supposed to think?"
"Maybe think, 'Wow, Iris somehow didn't die, that's impressive,'" he said. "Or, 'Hey, is Iris okay?' Or, 'Iris, here's some food for the trauma you clearly endured.' Just throwing out options."
"That's not how this works," the old man muttered.
The wolf's attention snapped back to Iris suddenly, ears pricking sharply. A second later, Iris understood why.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a blur of motion, one of the braver idiots, gripping a short spear, edging closer than everyone else. The young man's hand shook, but his jaw was clenched.
"If it's a threat, we should get rid of it before..."
He thrust the spear forward.
Iris barely had time to register the attack – barely had time to realize it was aimed past him, at the wolf – before the beast moved.
It wasn't a wild lunge. It wasn't a roar of rage. It was… precise.
One paw rose, claws glinting. The spear shaft met it mid-thrust. There was a sharp crack as wood met unnatural strength. The weapon snapped cleanly in two, the broken tip falling harmlessly to the dirt.
The young man stumbled back, landing on his rear with a yelp.
The wolf didn't growl.
Instead, it took one measured step forward, placing itself fully between Iris and the villagers. Its fur flared slightly, muscles coiling. The air thickened by a fraction, like a radius of invisible warning radiating from its body.
Iris found himself staring at the broad line of its back.
It was… protecting him.
"Oh," he whispered. "Oh, that's not going to help my case."
"Back away!" the old man barked. "Everyone back away! Don't provoke it!"
People shuffled backward in a ragged circle.
Iris took an instinctive half-step to the side, trying to move out from behind the wolf. Its tail shifted, bumping lightly against his leg, nudging him back into place.
He scowled at its spine. "Stop that. You're making me look guilty."
The beast ignored him.
"Contracts," one of the elders said, voice unsteady, "are rare. And dangerous. Tamers train for years. They have mentors. They have records at the Guild. We barely have a proper healer. We aren't equipped for this."
"I didn't sign anything," Iris protested. "No paper. No blood. No 'By accepting this, you agree to our terms and conditions.' Aren't there supposed to be terms and conditions?"
"There are," the old man said grimly. "Normally. Beasts are proud. They don't bend easy. They test their potential partners. There are oaths, binding phrases, circles inscribed with mana…"
He trailed off, staring at Iris with a look that had shifted from frightened to something almost wary.
"And you're saying," he continued slowly, "that you did none of that."
"Yes!" Iris said. "Finally, someone is listening!"
The old man rubbed his temples. "Which means either you're lying…"
"I'm really not."
"…or whatever is binding you ignored the standard systems entirely."
Iris thought of the glow, the pressure, the sense of something looping through his chest and folding his insides into a new shape.
"That sounds about right," he muttered.
The murmurs rose in pitch.
"Can it break?"
"If the beast dies..."
"If he dies..."
"Does that thing pull us into this?"
Iris clenched his fists. "Can everyone stop talking about my potential death like it's a hypothetical weather report?"
Somewhere near the back, a breathless voice shouted, "The guard! The guard's coming!"
The crowd rippled, people turning to look toward the main road.
Two figures were striding up from the village proper, cutting through the dispersing clusters with familiar authority. One was a broad-shouldered woman in worn leather armor with a short sword at her hip. The other was a younger man with a spear that hadn't been broken yet and a badge pinned to his chest a rudimentary sign of their "guard" status.
They took in the scene quickly: the villagers, the snapped spear, Iris, and the massive forest wolf sitting calmly like a dignified disaster waiting to happen.
The woman's jaw tightened.
"What," she said flatly, "is going on here?"
The villagers parted to let them through, all eyes bouncing between the beast and the newcomer with equal measures of hope and fear.
Iris swallowed hard.
The wolf flicked an ear, tail twitching once, as if acknowledging the newcomer's presence and finding it unthreatening. For now.
The guard captain's gaze landed on Iris.
"Start talking," she said. "And don't leave anything out."
Iris opened his mouth. Closed it. Glanced at the wolf.
"Do you," he asked it under his breath,
"happen to s