The Hunt Begins

Veil trudges through the forest, his breath transforming into puffs of mist. The cold gnaws at his skin, his damp clothes clinging to his body. Each step grows heavier, the snow seeping through his shoes. His teeth chatter involuntarily. Veil (panting): "It's... so cold..." A sharp crack echoes behind him. Veil spins around, his eyes wide. The wind carries a dull noise—light but steady footsteps in the snow. Veil (internal thoughts): Someone's following me? No... Not someone... something. He quickens his pace, his breathing growing faster, but the steps draw closer. The cracking sounds multiply. Low growls emerge, soft at first, then more pronounced. Veil (internal thoughts, panicked): Animals? No... This isn't good, not good at all! He glances to his left, then his right, searching for the source. Three pairs of yellow eyes glare at him from the snowy underbrush. Wolves. Their bluish fur blends into the landscape. Their teeth gleam between curled lips. Veil (cold sweat): "Wolves... No way! They think I'm prey!" He steps back, but a branch snaps under his foot. The wolves' ears perk up. Their growls deepen. A fourth wolf emerges from the thicket, cutting off his retreat. Veil (internal thoughts): I have to defend myself... I'm not dying here! His eyes dart around, searching for anything useful. A broken branch lies on the ground, half-buried in the snow, hardened by the cold. He bends down, grabs it, and shakes off the snow. The wood is cold but firm. Veil (grimly): "Alright... okay... I'll make do." The first wolf lunges. Veil reacts purely on instinct, throwing himself to the side and rolling through the snow. The cold bites at his neck. The wolf lands inches away, scattering snow. Veil scrambles to his feet, breathing heavily, clutching the branch in both hands. Veil (gasping): "Too close! Way too close!" The wolf turns, growling louder. It leaps again. Veil raises the branch with both hands and swings it down with all his remaining strength. CRACK! The sharp sound echoes, and the wolf's head hits the ground with a yelp of pain. Veil (internal thoughts): Did I... hit it? Did I do it? His eyes widen, his hands trembling. But there's no time to celebrate. Two more wolves charge simultaneously. Veil retreats, slipping on the snow and crashing into a tree trunk. The impact knocks the air out of him. A wolf lunges from the right; he rolls to the ground, the snow scraping against his face. Jaws snap near his arm, missing his flesh by inches. Veil (internal thoughts): No... no, no, no! I refuse to die here! He spots a stone half-buried in the snow. Reaching out, he grabs it and grips it tightly. He rolls to the side and rises to one knee. Veil (shouting): "TAKE THIS!" He hurls the stone with all his strength. It slices through the air and strikes a wolf's snout. A sharp yelp echoes as the wolf shakes its head and retreats, growling. Veil seizes the opportunity. He charges the wolf, screaming with every ounce of energy. Grabbing the broken branch, he swings it down in a fierce arc. CRACK! The blow lands on the wolf's skull, accompanied by a dull thud and a muffled whimper. The wolf's body collapses into the snow, its eyes staring blankly into the void. Veil (gasping): "Did I... do that?" The remaining three wolves don't retreat. Their ears twitch, their muscles tense as they circle him, trying to trap him. Their predatory instincts remain unbroken. Veil stands his ground, the branch still in his grip. Blood trickles from his forehead, the cold gnaws at his muscles, but his eyes burn with ferocity. The wolves watch him intently, their yellow eyes gleaming through the frosty haze. They don't flee. They prepare their next attack. He remains motionless, his legs trembling. The cold engulfs him, his breath coming in ragged bursts. His eyes drop to the lifeless wolf's body, the snow around it stained red. Veil (internal thoughts): I killed it... His fingers tighten around the branch. The reality hits him like a tidal wave. His body buckles, his knees sinking into the frigid snow. Veil (gasping): "I won't... DIE HERE!" His breathing grows ragged, his legs faltering with every step. The icy wind tears at his skin, but he keeps moving, one step at a time. Each step is a battle.