Ezra stood still for a moment, breath misting in the icy night air, staring at the dozens of arrows aimed directly at him. The tips glinted under the pale moonlight like silver teeth, ready to rip him apart. Behind him, the forest stretched wide and black, a maze of snow-laden trees swaying gently in the wind. The cold gnawed at his skin, yet sweat ran down his spine.
"Well, this is definitely not what I expected," he muttered to himself, a dry, bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "A step closer to death… is just a step closer to growth."
He looked up; eyes sharper than they had been moments ago resolve surging despite the pain throbbing in his side. "I choose the wolves."
His words made the armed group hesitate. A few of them looked at one another in disbelief. Only Vera didn't flinch. Her smirk stayed, her eyes studying him like he was a puzzle she already knew the answer to.
"You sure you don't want holes in your body instead of being torn to shreds?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice carried mock concern, like she was worried for him, yet every word dripped with sarcasm.
Ezra straightened. "I'll take my chances."
Without waiting for her reply, he turned and ran.
Vera simply raised one hand. "Stand down," she ordered calmly. Her group lowered their bows as she exhaled like someone watching a child run into traffic. "Too bad…" She turned to her team, her heels crunching in the snow as she walked toward Ezra's old cave. "We'll take good care of his little hideout. Boys, girls—get to work."
Nina, still tense, frowned. "Lady Vera, shouldn't we have just finished him?"
"I told you already." Vera didn't even glance back. "I didn't feel like killing him… and besides—he's already dead. He just doesn't know it yet."
"Zack," she called.
"Yes, Lady Vera," Zack replied, adjusting his glasses like an obedient butler.
"Signal Pamela. Tell her we've handled it. I'm tired."
"Yes, Lady Vera."
***
Ezra tore into the forest, lungs burning from the cold air. His boots sank slightly with every step on the snow-crusted ground, and every jolt made his injury scream. Blood seeped from his bandaged side, leaving a trail like red ink splattered on white paper.
Then came the sound that made his blood run cold.
Awooooh!
The wolves.
Their howls cut through the night, low and primal, vibrating in his chest. Ezra didn't dare look back, he could already hear their paws pounding the snow, fast, relentless, closing the distance.
Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't stop! He screamed inside his head. His muscles ached, his breath shortened, but he forced his legs to move faster. The forest was a blur of white and black as he weaved between tree trunks, ducking low branches and leaping over fallen logs. He moved in a zigzag pattern, hoping to throw off their approach, but he knew they were fast—too fast.
The Silverback Dire Wolves weren't ordinary wolves. He remembered the encyclopedia entry clearly, one scouter to track, one chaser to push, and two flankers to finish the kill. This wasn't a random pack; it was a hunting formation designed by nature itself.
Behind him, he heard it…the deep growl of the chaser gaining ground. Its claws tore at the snow as it rushed straight toward him.
"Damn it," Ezra muttered, yanking a strip of cloth from his sleeve and pressing it tighter on his injury mid-run. Blood soaked it instantly, but he had no time to worry. His arms pumped harder, his body twisting as he slid under another low-hanging branch. His feet skidded briefly on an icy patch, almost sending him sprawling.
Left… right… don't look back…
But he had to. His eyes flicked to the sides, and there they were, two silver-lined shapes flanking him, their glowing blue eyes locking onto him through the dark.
"Where's the fourth…" His words cut short as he realized too late.
The fourth one's missing.
A shadow launched from the right. One of the flankers, claws spread wide, aiming for his throat. Ezra ducked just in time, feeling the rush of cold wind as the wolf sailed past overhead.
His path forward was blocked now, one wolf ahead, one to the right, one to the left. The missing flanker? Behind him, for sure, waiting for him to hesitate.
"Shit!" he cursed aloud, spinning toward the only open space—straight ahead to a tall tree. He could practically feel the wolf behind him preparing to lunge.
As the hidden wolf pounced from behind, Ezra made his move. He threw his dagger with precision, aiming for its glowing eyes. The wolf twisted mid-air, flinching enough to break its attack.
Ezra didn't stop. He sprinted at the tall tree, using its rough bark as leverage to run three steps upward before springing off the wolf's own massive body as a stepping stone. He vaulted up, grabbing a branch with both hands and hauling himself high into the canopy.
The wolves snarled below, the chaser slamming into the tree trunk so hard it cracked. Bark rained down as Ezra swung to another branch, teeth clenched.
Adrenaline kept him moving. He jumped from branch to branch, the cold wind biting his face, his lungs burning like fire. His training: those endless calisthenics and center-of-gravity drills…paid off now. He moved like a gymnast, swinging, grabbing, and pushing forward, but the wolves weren't far. The flankers were big enough to leap high, snapping dangerously close to his boots a few times, and the chaser rammed trees like a battering ram, shaking everything Ezra stood on.
The scouter howled, signaling every time he shifted direction. They weren't confused. They weren't panicking. They were playing with him.
He spotted it. A cliff in the distance, its edge covered with loose snow and jagged rocks. Below, faint moonlight revealed a thin river glistening like a silver snake.
"If I can just… lead them there…" he muttered through gritted teeth. "They'll fall. All of them."
His arms ached from pulling himself across branches, his hands numbed by the cold. His vision blurred briefly from blood loss, but he shook it off and pushed harder. Almost there.
The moment his boot landed on the next branch, it snapped. Ezra fell hard, his body rolling violently down the snowy slope. Branches whipped his arms and face, each hit jarring his injury open further. Blood spattered across the snow as he tumbled.
He slammed against a rock before flipping again and sliding helplessly toward the cliff's edge.
"Stop! Stop!" he hissed, clawing at the snow, but his hands slipped, ice crumbling under his fingers.
The wolves stopped at the slope, staring down as their prey slid out of reach. The scouter howled again, sharp and victorious. Ezra's body shot off the edge, spinning into the open air.
For one frozen second, the world was silent.
Cold wind tore at him as he plummeted, his eyes catching a final glimpse of glowing wolf eyes above. The thin river below grew closer, its surface black and mirror-like under the moonlight.
Not like this…
He twisted mid-air, bracing himself.
SPLASH!
The water was ice cold, punching the air from his lungs. Pain ripped through his body as the current pulled him under. He kicked upward, but the cold was overwhelming, numbing his limbs instantly. His wound burned like fire under the freezing water.
He surfaced once, gasping for air, before the current dragged him away. The moonlight faded behind splashes and foam.