Chương 108: Chapter 11: Instincts of the Wild - Part I

The first several minutes pass exactly as I expect them to. The Hollowmane darts through patches of fern only to reappear moments later, pausing every so often to make certain I am still following before bounding ahead again with the carefree enthusiasm only a cub seems capable of possessing. I allow it the freedom. The forest around us has already begun settling after the battle, birds cautiously returning to the canopy while the breeze carries away the lingering scent of blood.

Eventually I notice something that draws my attention away from the cub. We are no longer walking toward Fallowspire. I slow. The familiar game trail leading back toward the southern road has long since disappeared behind us, replaced by narrower animal paths winding between ancient oaks whose trunks are thick enough that three men could scarcely encircle them together.

"The city's that way." The Hollowmane glances back. Its ears twitch once. Then it continues walking as though I have said nothing at all. I wait. Surely, it'll realize- it doesn't. Instead, it stops beside the base of a weathered pine, lowers its nose to the earth and sniffs with remarkable concentration before continuing deeper into the forest. I watch it for another few moments.

"You're not wandering." The realization comes quietly. You're following something. The forest changes gradually as we move. The undergrowth grows thicker beneath the towering trees, while moss blankets fallen trunks that must have lain undisturbed for decades. The air feels cooler here, carrying the scent of damp earth and old bark rather than fresh-cut timber. Sunlight still filters through the canopy, but only in scattered shafts that paint shifting patterns across the forest floor. The Hollowmane slows again.

This time it circles a patch of exposed soil before stopping altogether. Curiosity gets the better of me. I crouch beside it. The tracks are faint, nearly invisible beneath the carpet of leaves, but years spent hunting through Elarion's forests have taught me to look beyond the obvious. Something large passed this way recently.

The impressions are broad, each claw leaving a deep groove where it dug into the earth, while the surrounding vegetation bears the unmistakable signs of something forcing its way through rather than stepping around it. The cub sniffs one print before lifting its head. Its ears rotate slowly. Listening, testing the air. Only then does it continue. I rise and brush the dirt from my hands.

"So that's what this is." I find myself smiling despite the circumstances. For all the confidence with which the cub follows me through the forest, I have unconsciously assumed our roles were fixed. I was the hunter. It was the curious companion content to tag along wherever I happened to go. It seems the cub has reached a different conclusion. For the next half hour, I say very little, content to watch. The Hollowmane never rushes.

Whenever the trail becomes uncertain, it slows to investigate broken branches, disturbed moss or the faint scent lingering upon the breeze before confidently choosing a direction and continuing onward. More than once I fail to notice what caught its attention until I kneel beside the same spot and examine it for myself. A claw mark across the bark of a pine; fresh soil overturned beside a root; the remains of a deer, picked clean except for a scattering of bones hidden beneath the undergrowth.

Each sign means little in isolation. Together they form a story. Something has been hunting this part of the forest with remarkable consistency. I glance toward the small predator padding silently ahead of me.

"I suppose this isn't your first time following a trail." The cub glances back briefly before making a soft chirping sound that I decide, perhaps optimistically, to interpret as agreement. We continue deeper into the woodland until even the distant sounds of woodcutters disappear. Only the forest remains. The steady whisper of leaves high overhead; birdsong drifting through the canopy; the quiet rhythm of countless living things going about their day.

Then the Hollowmane stops so abruptly that I almost walk into it. Its posture changes completely. The easy curiosity disappears, replaced by a stillness that seems almost unnatural. Every hair along the dark ridge of its neck rises, while its golden eyes remain fixed upon a narrow gap between two ancient pines. I follow its gaze. At first, I see nothing. Then my attention drifts lower. The tracks, these are different.

The impressions sink much deeper into the earth than the ones we have followed all morning, and each claw mark is broader than my hand. One tree bears four parallel gouges carved so deeply into the trunk that fresh sap still glistens along the exposed wood. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I step closer, resting my fingers against the marks. The bark is still damp, recent, very recent. A slow breath leaves me.

"This wasn't made by the one we killed." The Hollowmane doesn't take its eyes off the trees. Neither do I. If the first Veyrakh had been responsible for the attacks near Fallowspire, then these tracks should not exist. Unless, my gaze follows the trail disappearing deeper into the forest.

"There's another one." The cub lets out a low rumble that vibrates somewhere deep within its chest. For the first time since leaving the city, I hear no curiosity in the sound. Only instinct. I follow the tracks deeper into the woodland, though the Hollowmane no longer moves with the careless confidence it had shown earlier. It keeps close to the ground now, its nose occasionally brushing the leaves as it follows the scent, while I remain several paces behind and let it choose the path.

The signs become easier to read the farther we go. Trees bear fresh scars at shoulder height, patches of moss have been torn away from fallen trunks, and several saplings have been broken completely rather than bent around. Whatever made the tracks is larger than the Veyrakh I encountered earlier, and judging by the depth of the impressions, considerably heavier as well. The forest grows quieter around us.

Even the smaller animals seem to have moved away from this particular stretch of woodland, leaving an unnatural stillness beneath the canopy. The Hollowmane appears to notice it as well. It slows whenever the wind changes, raises its head to taste the air and then continues once it seems satisfied with whatever information it has gathered. I begin to understand why. This isn't simply a hunting ground. Something has claimed it.

We travel another few hundred paces before the trail opens into a broad depression between the trees. The ground here is heavily disturbed, with several patches of earth turned over and roots exposed where something has dug into the soil. A fallen tree lies across the center of the clearing, its trunk broken almost cleanly through, and beside it rests what remains of a deer. I stop. The carcass is considerably fresher than the one we passed earlier, though there is little left of it now.

The ribs have been broken apart, the bones stripped almost completely clean, and the earth around the remains is marked with several deep impressions. I crouch beside them. The tracks are unmistakable. Veyrakh but these are larger than the others, much larger. I place my hand beside one of the impressions for comparison and stare at it for a moment.

"You're following something much bigger than the last one." The Hollowmane stands several paces away, staring toward the opposite side of the clearing. I follow its gaze. Nothing moves, still, the feeling of being watched settles over me. I rise slowly and let my awareness spread through the surrounding forest. The land answers with its usual quiet impressions, though something about this place feels disturbed. The trees remember movement. Heavy movement.

Something has passed between them repeatedly, and the impressions are stronger here than anywhere else along the trail. Then I notice the trunk of an ancient pine. Four long scars run across its bark, beginning almost at my shoulder and descending toward the roots. They are deeper than the marks we found earlier, and the bark around them has been torn away rather than merely scratched. I approach the tree. The Hollowmane remains behind me. I run my fingers along one of the gouges.

"That's considerably larger." A low growl answers from behind. I turn. The cub isn't looking at me anymore. Its attention is fixed upon the trees beyond the clearing, its body lowered and its mane standing high along its neck. It takes one cautious step backward, then another, without taking its eyes from the darkness. That concerns me more than the tracks. The cub has shown very little fear since we left Fallowspire.

Even when the first Veyrakh attacked, it remained close enough to watch the fight, and when the creature fell, it had been more curious than frightened. Now it wants distance. I reach for the hilt of my sword. The forest remains still and then I hear it. A branch snapping somewhere beyond the trees. I turn toward the sound. Another follows, closer this time. The Hollowmane moves behind me.

I draw my blade as something shifts between the trunks, and for several seconds I see only darkness and drifting leaves before a massive shape slowly emerges from the undergrowth. The creature is unmistakably another Veyrakh. Yet it bears little resemblance to the one I killed earlier. This one is older, larger and considerably heavier, its body carrying the scars of countless fights.

Several old wounds cross its flanks, some faded almost completely beneath the scales while others remain raised and pale against its darker hide. One ear is notched along the edge, and one of its forelegs bears a long scar that disappears beneath the fur around its shoulder. It stops at the edge of the clearing. Its eyes settle upon me. There is no hesitation in them, no curiosity. Only the cold certainty of a creature that has spent years defending its territory and has no intention of surrendering it now.

I tighten my grip around the sword. The Hollowmane gives a quiet warning growl behind me. The Veyrakh lowers its head. I understand the situation immediately. The first creature wasn't the master of this territory. It was simply living within it. This one is the reason the territory exists. The alpha takes one slow step forward, and the ground seems to grow smaller beneath its weight. I breathe out slowly.

"All right," I adjust my stance as the creature's shoulders lower, "I suppose the contract isn't finished after all."