Aveloria stepped forward, her sword raised. The air around her seemed to hold its breath. Every sound was sharper now, the crunch of boots, the faint rustle of leaves. She could hear her own heartbeat.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then a shape lunged from the shadows.
Galen caught it mid-air, his blade slicing through its shoulder. The creature hit the ground, snarling, its body grotesque and twisted, half-human, half-wolf, eyes black as ink. It screamed like a dying animal before crawling back into the darkness.
"Wanderer!" one of the men shouted.
More growls followed. Five, seven, maybe ten, all closing in.
Aveloria's wolf surged closer to the surface, her pulse racing. She wasn't afraid, only focused.
"Tonight," she called out, her voice ringing through the clearing, "the hunt begins!"
The soldiers roared in answer, tightening their grip on their weapons.
